Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Year of Fear - April

header for blog series - year of fear

I have a bunch of ideas for my monthly fear challenges but they haven't been slotted into any particular month, just waiting for their place.  One idea was public speaking (I hate public speaking) and I had been talking to Ben about how on Earth I would make that happen - soap box in the middle of town?  When Dad died, it made sense this would be my April fear.  So many others fears this month that I hadn't even contemplated.  Having someone, who potentially loves you the most in the World, simply vanish hadn't crossed my radar and obviously, I'm glad it didn't, the impact in the moment and the aftermath was grand enough for my little heart.

After Dad's funeral on Tuesday, the director came over and told me that they film each ceremony and that my tribute was lovely and that I should watch it.  I've only watched a little, so hard to watch on a bunch of levels but I'm popping up the link and the access code for anyone else to watch and I'll post my actually words below as well.  I practiced with Ben the days before.  At first it was hard to read and then it was easy and at the funeral it was impossibly hard.  I know I did the best I could.  I left the funeral with a strange sense of happiness, knowing it was a great send off for Dad.  It wasn't sad seeing his body going into the ground, it's the space between his spirit and me that creates a lingering sadness, although I feel him close, I'd love him closer.  I'm moving forward with all the practical things that need to be done following a death, it keeps the heart from wallowing and grows the spirit, or at least that's what I'm hoping for.


(click on 'live stream' under 'service venue')
PIN:  7588

MY WORDS:



my face tells my chest
tells my heart that sadness
is coming and we hunker down
together as the wave of grief
moves through and vanishes and
comes back around again.

Dad's optimism travels through my soul, it tells me tomorrow is another day, another day to be generous and kind, strong, forgiving, courageous, to see the humour and use my Harding brain. I feel his warmth.

The clouds and the sky following dad's death were hauntingly beautiful, they changed colour and tempo and just when the sun has decided to stay, the rain fell heavily from the sky as a gesture to honour my inner dialogue. Angels in clouds and rainbows upon rainbows and a smoke detector going off in the middle of the night that we renamed the ghost alarm.

I sat on the patio that night, the night I found out dad had passed, it was so still and I searched for the stars. If I managed to not let my mind wander and just feel the moment, it was incredibly peaceful and the convos I had with Dad were reassuring and beautiful. He didn't want to leave, he reminds me to do my daily tasks, he's so happy about the house and he tells me I have spirits all around me. I always thought that would be incredibly scary but it isn't because I'm not actually 100% in the world myself. I'm trapped by choice, in a place that isn't the happiness of the past nor the future riddled with absence. I talk with Ben who lives in the future and he tells me he will keep offering me life lines and it's okay if I don't accept them. I finally agree to a bowl of icecream. I haven't been eating and I'm not even sure I like icecream but Ben has loaded it up with peanut butter and chocolate goo and I eat it and it makes me happy.

Things I know that are true.
Dad didn't want to leave
He left peacefully
His physical heart had reached the end
His spirituality gifted him protection
He was so happy, so happy.
He loved loved loved loved Andrew, Matty, J and myself
and he wasn't ready to leave us

Thank-you Dad for your kindness that wraps around me so tightly offering protection and guidance. Thank-you for reaching out your hand to me and taking me on an adventure that saw me seek a deeper kindness and a capability to tackle mountains that I wasn't sure my body was ready for. Thank-you for sharing my hobbies and geeking out with me and gifting me your time, your spirit, love and joy and knowledge.

Life's wheels didn't just fall off when you left, my whole universe vanished beneath me. Dad gave me so much in the physical world that it still remains with me and helps me get up on days I don't want to. I'm forever grateful to have been gifted such a wonderful dad who showed me the joy in the moment, right now.


You're lovely dad and I love you and I miss you.


5 comments:

  1. I absolutely adore your writing, I just wanted to say that. Even though I don't know you I truly do feel WITH you. For personal reasons I couldn't bring myself to watch the memorial but your words that are written here are just lovely.

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    1. Awww you are so so so sweet and it's nice to feel connected with others and I hope you, yourself are okay xoxox Life can be tough sometimes hey! Thanks for taking the time to leave your comment!

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  2. So beautiful Fee, I feel your loss through this piece but in the most lovely of ways. Love lasts so far beyond life and death, which is both comforting and heartbreaking all in one go. You've captured that so well for your Dad here. May he rest in eternal light and - maybe not even rest, but adventure, and continue on. Sending love to you xx

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    1. Thank-you, gosh that completely sums up my experience and feelings. Really so many thanks for your words. It's this incredible gift to peer into another plane and I think I've only truly been able to do that because I just let my body go into the deep place of grief where my physical body and all the happenings of the physical world lost all purpose. I can see now that you really can't live there. I felt very connected to Dad there but I think that's for another time and for now I'm just working on living back here, right now, slowly but surely moving forward.

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  3. Sending you love. What a beautiful tribute Fee <3

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