I received two letters in the mail. The first I actually got at work – it was sent to my office by the Knights of Columbus council in Somerset that my Dad had belonged to and was a charter member of. My office had collected some money to donate to them in his name after he passed away and this letter was acknowledging that donation. But it also said something else. They created a fund in my Dad’s name, which will house any money that is donated to them in his name, and any distributions to charitable organizations will be done in his honor. The first time I read it, my boss was sitting on the other side of my desk and I did my best to hide my tears. 24 hours later I am still in awe that they have done this for him and for his memory. That was the first letter that made me cry; I cried every time I read it yesterday.
The second letter came to my home from the church in Somerset. They refunded the money we paid for the organist and cantor; the pastor basically said they wouldn’t take our money. The woman that wrote the letter, a nun, had been the principle at the school at the time that they built an expansion onto the building. My Dad was a part of that building committee and was involved in creating and approving the plans; the principal was also on that committee and she commented on the fond memories she had of him from that time. She went on to say other things, wonderful things, that I couldn’t read because of the tears in my eyes. I cried every time I tried to read it yesterday; I’ll try again when I get home today.
And here I sit today, revoking the words I wrote before those letters arrived. Yesterday, I cried a lot. I even cried when Rob read the letters; he read them because I couldn’t tell him what they said. As I tried to, I started to cry; and when he started to talk about how wonderful my Dad was and what an impact he made on his community, I cried more. What makes me cry the most often are the words of others about my Dad. I knew he meant a lot to people and that people appreciated him but to hear the words or to read them, or to see that a fund has been created in his name, just brings it home as being real. I know that a lot of people are sad now that he is gone; I know that my sorrow is shared by more people that I probably even realize. He was loved and appreciated so very much and now, he is missed just as much. And that makes me sad, too. To know that so many people miss him, so many people are sad now. I know that he was sick and tired, and tired of being sick, and I am sure that it was just his time – there was such a risk with the last surgery that this, I think, was the inevitable outcome. He had been through so much over the past few years that his heart was just done and I think his soul was just done and he let go, he stopped fighting – which I know I will accept one day. But still. I had wanted him around for at least another year so that I knew for sure my daughter would remember him and so he would know that she got into a good school and she was going to have a good, happy, successful life in a nice home. And even though, on that day as I left my house to go see him at the hospital, I said to the universe or to God “if he’s going to go, please just take him today and stop his suffering because this isn’t fair”, I still wasn’t ready for him to leave us just yet. I had wanted him around for so much more and I know that a lot of other people feel the same way. I laugh but it’s true; he’s turned into ‘the man, the myth, the legend’. And I’m okay with that. He was great, and he is missed.
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