(Warning-Mom-you will cry when you read this. Get a tissue or skip it)
Back in February we had a dance recital for Miss Emily. It was on Saturday. We did this and that before we needed to have her to Layton. We watched the entire recital(I actually fell asleep during some of it!
We went home and then just did normal everyday Saturday things. Laundry, dishes, tinkering. It was a pretty average, uneventful Saturday.
Sunday morning I startled awake realizing that the date for this Sunday morning was February 12th. That means that the day before was February 11th.
Twenty four years ago on February 11th my Dad tragically took his own life. Life for our family has been permanently altered and sent on a different path than it was on before.
I remember thinking that I would never ever have a year that I wouldn't think about my Dad's death on the day he died. I would always remember and always call my Mom.
On this February 11th day, twenty four years later I forgot.
At first realization I was shocked and saddened that I had forgotten. Then a feeling came over me that I am grateful for. I had the strongest feeling that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. Living my life. Watching my daughter dance. Making lunch, dinner and doing dishes. I had a very, very ordinary day.
I don't think that a day has ever passed that I don't think of my Dad. I have pictures of him in my house. I see things while driving that remind me of him. I say things that I learned from him. However, these things are almost always about his LIFE not his death.
I think that my Dad would be glad that I had this day. That I have been able to have a life, a good life. I am not healed from his death, but the scab has healed nicely. It rarely bleeds anymore. Even more rarely is the scab ripped off and left raw and gapping. I am grateful for this, it is hard to LIVE when one is raw and bleeding all the time.
I decided that perhaps the lesson that I learned from February 11, 2012 is that I want to remember my Dad for his life not his tragic death. I want to celebrate all the wonderful, ordinary days that I got to spend with my Dad.
Those are the blessings.
2 comments:
Man, that is just so, so hard. Hard enough losing a parent to illness, but losing someone in this way can be such a trial of our faith. I have lost several people in my life this way, and it has taught me so much about the Atonement. Mercy -- it is such a great, great gift. I know that Heavenly Father truly knows our personal struggles, and loves us enough to provide a Savior that makes up the difference where we lack. And it is true for those who are so tormented that they take their own life.
I remember how guilty I felt when I first forgot the day my dad died, and even more guilty about missing his birthday. But then I realized I think about my dad so much throughout the year that just because I didn't remember him on the day of his death or his birthday doesn't mean I don't love him or miss him terribly. I don't need a day to remind me that I miss him any more than I already do. It's the memory of the person that matters not the day.
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