Month: June 2020

My Father found death very difficult.  He once told my mother, at a time when one of his relatives died, that he would not attend the funeral.  My mother said:

“Norm, you have to go, it’s family”

To which dad replied, “Why?  He won’t be coming to mine!”

He was a builder.  He built everything from tables to cars but his specialty was relationships.  There are some people who love unconditionally and without reservation. My father embodied this. He believed that a stranger was a friend you had not met and that family and friends were one and the same.

He taught us to laugh. In his last year, their roof needed replacing and the salesman was explaining the difference between a 20 year roof and a lifetime roof. My father stopped him quick and said;

“Good God man, I don’t buy green bananas, why would I want a 20 year roof?”

My father was my hero.  He left this earth just before his first granddaughter was born. I believe he went to pick her out for me. That was 25 years ago.

We keep him alive through stories and he lets me know he is near with a fallen feather found on my walks.  He is always loved, always missed.

On this day, the day to celebrate the man who helped raise us, I just want to say; “Thank you Dad”.

The last kiss I gave to my son was at the crematorium.  I whispered into his ear, “Please find a way back, I need you.” 

As we were leaving the building I stepped over a piece of paper lying in the middle of the doorway.  My husband picked it up and handed it to me.  First, it was odd to see; the building was quiet and it was an extremely clean, new building.  I’m not sure how the paper got there at all.  Second, I didn’t understand why my husband felt the need to pick up a piece of litter and then hand it to me to deal with! 

By now we were in the parking lot and the sun was shining.  I looked down at the paper and it was a sticker.  It had a little boy on it that had Zane’s hair color and a dog beside the boy, much like our own dog.  And the sticker read, “Just yelp for help.” 

I laughed.  Our whole family laughed.  I looked up to the skies and said;

“Ok Zane, I ask for signs you are still with us and then I step over the first one!  I promise I will always look for your signs!”

When you are grieving you always look for signs.  The need for confirmation that our loved ones are still with us becomes an obsession.  Signs bring comfort, they bring hope.  Not many of us grief warriors will accept a more rationale like once you start to notice something you see it more often.  We believe that the signs come from our loved ones to remind us they are near or that they have a message for us. This belief is much more palatable. 

I call them postcards from my son.  Some of them make me cry, some of them make me laugh and all of them make me feel more connected to him.