Six Months

Six months;

yesterday marked six months since my father passed away, half a year measured by his absence — and yet his presence still fills my days in so many obvious and often deeply subtle ways. From the casual pass of happy memories, all the way to the more haunting days of his final care — I am shaped by every moment, that the person I am now is largely made of his influence and the that love he gave me. In the six months since his death I’ve reflected mostly on our last few months together, of the lessons he taught me through courage and example, most especially of the grace he showed by letting go of each physical loss without complaint, and yet demonstrating too the importance of being engaged and active with the time and people still present in his life. His was not a passive surrender, it was indeed the grace and courage of quiet acceptance through every circumstance that his final days offered, and all without sacrificing his deep appreciation of simply being alive, present, of being loved, and always giving love in return.

six months sometimes doesn’t feel like very long, not always, but sometimes it seems like forever since I had that purpose of caring so deeply for another, involved in the rituals of maintaining his well-being and waning strength, and being concerned with the daily affairs of health, needs, and comfort. I miss every aspect of my father, from the strength of his years…