This will be the eleventh year without my dad. I don’t wail out loud anymore on significant “Dad” days, but there are still times I really miss him. I don’t miss his pain and suffering he experienced in the last 10 years of his life. I do miss how much he tried hard to enjoy life with my mom, traveling to Maine and Colorado, visiting family members, and doing things I am not sure I would do in his condition. I’m always Looking for ways to celebrate my deceased dad and make sure I don’t ever forget him.
I miss his long-winded stories, his love of the “old days” and the little pats on my leg which was his way of telling me, “Everything is going to be OK and I love you.” That was just enough.
As I edit this blog, I am feeling the tears welling up and my throat tightening its grip around my internal voice. Transferring him to a skilled nursing facility was the
worst day of my life as it was admitting that my family was not able to take care of his medical needs and work full-time. The wound care, the transferring, the twice-daily zipping of his lower body into a compression suit to help with circulation. Helping him get in and out of his binder that held in his enormous abdominal ventral hernia. The pain of his own grief after my mom’s recent death. Driving four hours back and forth every week for three months to close up the house, manage the property, and get ready for an estate sale. Overwhelming.
Sadly, I know many families do the job, and looking back with the knowledge and resources now, we could have done better. In retrospect, for me, his death was a blessing and for our spiritual beliefs, we know my parents are in heaven, driving down the road, holding hands in their old white Cadillac. I have joined the ranks of those with a deceased dad, and I know he is now at Peace.
Jerome was my Dad. He was the Dad I learned more about after his death as I read letters from his early years as a college-bound farm boy. I learned his real middle name was Charlie, not Charles. His dream after high school, was to be an auctioneer but he continued with his higher education still hoping that one day, his dream might come true. In college in the 60s, he went so far to start an auctioneer’s schooling, just in case. Sadly, he did not finish as he realized he would not make enough money and he was called to move on to graduate school. Jerome Charlie was the young man who had a pretty poor command of the English language but who later typed a beautiful letter to his middle-school educated parents sharing his new writing and typing skills explaining how important it was to write in a business manner.
He was the Dad who went to great lengths to buy ponies for my sister and me at the Canton Flea Market. He was the Dad who loved gardening and building brick walkways in the backyard and the Dad who truly loved his work at Community Services in Corsicana helping others achieve their dreams. The Dad who showed me what compassion is. The Dad who built me bluebird houses for my Campfire Girl project. The Dad who sat through (and sometimes slept through) my piano recitals – but he was always there and present in some form! The Dad who could be difficult at times but let me learn life my way – the harder way! – but was always there when I needed to figure things out. In all honesty, most of the very personal things we retained from the estate were from my mother.
There were a few tangible “dad” treasures such as his wallet and coin purse, a silver dollar collection, and a lot of work-related awards, but few things in comparison to my mom or related to them as a couple. I don’t know if this a “guy” thing or just the way it worked out. I most treasure his love for Colorado and how much he teased us about flipping pancakes in Estes Park for his retirement gig. He didn’t get a chance to do that, but now I live in Fort Collins, and when I look at the mountains to the west at Mount Meeker and Long’s Peak, I know he is there.
I treasure what he did give me and that is an appreciation of my cultural heritage and some interesting words of wisdom like, “he who waits, gets best.” Regardless of whether your Dad is alive or deceased, re-discovering your Dad and showing your appreciation is what Father’s Day is all about.
15 Ways to Celebrate Your Deceased Dad This Coming Father’s Day – the usual
- Visit his grave.
- Give a donation to his favorite charity.
- Donate flowers at church.
- Spend special time with your mom or siblings.
A little more out of the ordinary – 15 ways to Celebrate your Deceased Dad on Father’s Day:
- Carry one of his personal items such as his wallet, book, pen, prayer beads, or Bible.
- Enjoy his favorite refreshment and make a special toast to his remembrance.
- Enjoy his favorite dessert.
- Take 10 minutes and enjoy an album of old pictures.
- Create a video frame collection of special pics for the day.
- Watch his favorite or listen to his favorite music. Review online some of his favorite places to go or wish he had gone. Today, I am warmed by the fact my dad wanted to retire in Estes Park and flip pancakes and I am less than an hour now from the park.
- Visit a place, virtually or in person, that was on his bucket list.
- Change your PC or phone wallpaper to a favorite pic of your dad.
- Write your dad a virtual thank you note.
- Start a memory book.
- Plant a tree or shrub in his honor.
- Enjoy an element of his favorite hobby – photography, boating, hunting, gardening, attending sporting events – and if it is one you picked up, remind yourself it was because of him!
- Write down your strengths and identify which ones may have come from him.
- “Jerome’s been here.” Identify a funky habit of your dad’s that is appearing in your life. For us, when empty water glasses start lining up on the counter instead of moving to the dishwasher, my husband and I have a fun moment and say, “Jerome’s been here!”
Remember, it’s OK to grieve, smile, and hopefully – celebrate!
Many blessings for an enriched Father’s Day!
Need to start a memory book? Here are some of my favorites!
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