One Word At A Time: Emptiness
Wednesday, June 2, 2010 at 7:00AM MAD21 By MAD21
This time of year brings mixed emotions for me. I love the warmer weather and as I wrote about on Friday, all the fresh fruits and veggies. I love all the time I get to have with my kids and family and the fun things we get to do together. But underneath the joy I feel this time of year, there is also an emptiness. A deep sadness that lingers like the residue in a cool glass of tea. It's not bad enough to ruin the day, but you know it's there.
My dad and I were fairly close all my life. Like my oldest is my "mini-me," I was my dad's. We had a lot in common. We both loved cars, traveling, people watching and a good hard days work. I looked just like him and his family. In fact, if you compare my baby pictures to my aunt's (his sister), you can barely tell any difference. Aside from the age of the picture itself giving it away, you would think it was the same child.
Growing up, summer time always meant a trip to visit my dad's family. They lived in a town a long five hours away from us. But it was worth the drive because I loved my aunt and her family. We had a bond that miles couldn't break. I have so many memories as a child going camping with my parents and my aunt and uncle. Going fishing on my uncle's boat and being the only one that ever caught anything. My aunt wearing jeans, sneakers, and my uncle's shirts and cooking something over the fire (and telling my dad what to do!).
When my parents and I moved to the eastern side of the country in 1987, those trips to visit his family every summer stopped. I was able to get back to visit with them a few times, not nearly as often as I would have liked, but time gets away from you... as it has a habit of doing when you get older. It was always good to at least have the possibility of visiting, and I enjoyed getting a few letters from my aunt a year.
My dad's favorite holiday was Independence Day. He just loved everything about the 4th of July. The all-day picnic with friends and family, the fireworks, and of course, corn on the cob... lots of it. His birthday followed a week later which usually involved more barbecuing and more corn on the cob.
I got the first phone call the Sunday after Thanksgiving 2005. It was my dad. I could tell by the sound of his voice that something was very wrong. He called to let me know that my aunt had suffered a stroke and passed away. I could barely breath. To make matters worse, we were supposed to fly out to visit her the previous summer, but had something come up that prevented us from making the trip. A decision that I will regret for the rest of my life. She was 94.
The second phone call came in August 2006. It was my sister calling to let me know our dad was in the hospital. He had a blood disorder that he'd been fighting for years. In the year previous to this phone call, he had had some pretty difficult health concerns to deal with, but seemed to always come through okay. This time was different, though. In the month prior to this, I had talked with my dad and the conversation had me a little more concerned than usual. You could tell that something wasn't right, but of course, when asked if he was okay, the answer was his usual response, "I'm fine. Really, I am."
But not this time. Initially, my dad told me not to fly out. He really thought they would get things under control and he didn't want me to go through the trouble of getting myself and my family out there (my children were two and five months at the time). About three weeks later, my dad called to give me the results to some tests they had done. The news was bad. It was time. Time for me to gather my family together and fly almost 3000 miles to say good-bye.
My dad was an amazing person. He touched the lives of everyone he met and had many friends who loved him. He was the kind of guy who was on a first name basis with every store clerk/waitress/cashier at the places he frequented. I am very proud of his love for our country and his 41 years of full-time military service in the Army National Guard (1950-1991). I honor my dad as often as I can, standing in his stead during ceremonies like the one I attended Monday for Memorial Day. I am proud of the kind of soldier my dad was. And considering how many phone calls I received after his death from his comrades from all over the country, it's pretty safe to say they agree.
It's been almost four years since my dad died, and almost five since I lost my aunt. They say the first two years are the hardest after you lose someone close to you. For the most part I agree. In all honesty, I'm not sure what I thought would happen after those two years passed by. I don't feel the urge to call my dad as often as I once did. But it doesn't take much most of the time for my heart to start aching again. Though the grief I feel, and have actually always felt, was not really so much for myself as much as for what my children have lost. They feel an emptiness, too. They know that something is missing.
My oldest who was two and a half at the time my dad passed away, still has memories of visiting him in the hospital. We had her dress up as a different animal for each visit. We talk about it every now and then, and look at pictures. I know most of those memories will fade over time, but I want for her to hold onto whatever imprint she can of the love her grandfather had for her. Even if it's just remembering that he called once a week to hear her songs, or that she dressed like a bunny and bounced her way into his hospital room to make him smile.
My youngest has a picture in her room of my dad holding her. She loves it and talks about it often. One day she will know how much it physically hurt him to hold her in his arms at the time, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know that no matter what, he loved her. And by the long, intentional gaze she had as she made eye contact with him, in her five month old wisdom, she knew.
God is in the rain.
God is there, you know. He lives in these empty moments. It is in these moments that we can feel such a deep emotional connection with him. This world will always have emptiness. Hurt. Pain. But even when we are neck deep in it, we always need to remember... God is there. Waiting and willing to give us peace when the time is right.
This post is a participant in a blog carnival over at Bridget Chumbley's One Word at a Time.
Be sure to go and check out what everyone else wrote on: Emptiness.
Emptiness, Faith, Family, One Word At A Time in One Word At A Time
Reader Comments (10)
Wow, Ginny! I think this is my favorite post you have ever written. SO amazing!
I'm sorry for your losses. I still feel the losses of my grandparents and my favorite uncle (whose funeral was one year ago yesterday) and I fear the day that I will mourn the loss of my parents. When that day comes, please feel free to remind me that God is in the rain.
((HUGS))
So I start the day off with tears. Guys aren't supposed to do this - especially in the office -- unless they run into a particularly piece of powerful writing. Which I just did in this post.
Sweet writing from the heart.
This is a beautifully written post, full of love, honoring your father.
I know all the feelings. My father dropped dead on a July day and at my home, within 15 minutes of my getting in from work; my grandmother died of a stroke a few weeks later. That was 20 years ago this August and yet like yesterday. And I lost my brother to cancer last May. So spring and summer, times of renewal and vivid life, are colored with these memories. Pain of loss is always with us, though we tuck it inside a place in the heart for safekeeping, where it hurts perhaps a little less.
I wish you peace in your heart.
WOW, Ginny! Just wow. This is the best thing you've ever written. And what fantastic pictures!
My heart hurts. The depth of feeling in this post is so real , raw, and sad.
Thank God for our memories and love to get us through loss
Thank Him as well for the certain belief that we have our PERSONAL
guardian angels who watch over us as Just any random guardian angel
could not.
Kristi
Ginny, I have to agree that this is one of my absolute favorite things you've written. So powerful, real, and honest. Thanks so much for sharing this with us. Hugs to you, my dear friend.
I've been reading your blog for a LONG time now, and although I rarely pop over and leave a comment, I had to on this one. It is by far my favorite post of yours.
And I'd be lying if I didn't say it made me tear up a bit.
"God is in the rain."
I'll never forget.
You brought so many emotions rushing back with this, Ginny. Simply beautiful. I will never stop missing my dad and you will always miss yours. It just wouldn't be right if we didn't.
What a sweet and straight-forward story. So touching. Your Dad sounds like a real treat of a man... and when I think of mine I always also think of heaven. When Paul said that he wanted to be both places, heaven and earth, the older I am and the more family and friends are with the Lord, the harder it is to be solidly nailed to the ground. That takes some of the emptiness away.