I stood over my father’s coffin and opened it.
I held his hand and tried to understand why the tears?
I felt grateful…
Grateful…
For having known him,
For his insatiable desire to be close to me,
For how hard he worked to be a good man,
For how far he came…
For being his son…
For more memories than I could hold in my mind and heart…
For how rational he was…
For having him as a father.
And, I felt sorry…
Sorry that I had not been more patient during our daily calls,
That I hadn’t worked harder to help him build a connection with his grandkids,
That I hadn’t told him more often how much I appreciated him…
That I couldn’t have one more conversation with him to say THANK YOU!
That I had spent so much of my life blaming him for my own disharmony,
That I had spent so much of my life trying to keep an emotional distance from him…
I have no regrets with my father… or virtually none.
It’s funny, we talked about his death almost every time we talked, and yet somehow I feel like I remember so little from those conversations.
It’s funny in a strange way, I feel like at the age of 50 with my father’s passing, I just now became an adult.
I loved him more than I realized.
I loved him more than I was probably willing to admit to anyone.
I loved deeply him because I saw him… and, while it’s true there was much about him I did not like… that didn’t seem to interfere with loving him.
He was ready to die. I know that.
As crazy as it sounds, I am not sure I was ready to never see him again.
I will miss his unwavering and unconditional love.
I felt it.
The thought that filled my head all day and I could feel the energy and the words flowing through my arms as I held his cold body…
“It’s not about how we die, IT’S ABOUT HOW WE LIVE.”
I kept saying those words in my head… it was so clear to me
“It’s not about how we die, IT’S ABOUT HOW WE LIVE.”
What matters is what we do with our days.... with our time... with our breaths.
I could feel the reality of that thought ... it was so clear - I felt like I could touch it.
I don’t know exactly why my tears flowed yesterday and why with certain thoughts they flow now…
He lived a full and complex and meaningful life.
He lived much of it in disharmony.
And, he had more than his share of moments… in harmony.
I am much more grateful than sorry.
I thought about my father’s death more times than I can remember.
I thought I was ready…
I wasn’t…
But,
I am now…
and I will miss him
...forever.
In harmony,
Nestor