The Life of Bon: THREE

Sunday, November 18, 2012

THREE



Today marks three years since my dad's death.

It is all at once dumbfounding and alarming how that much time has passed.  Wasn't it just yesterday he was video recording my sister and I laughing at the burger joint, just yesterday I was handing him nail clippers in his podiatry office, just yesterday I received long, detailed letters from him while I was serving a mission?

But it wasn't just yesterday.  In fact, by this point, it was thousands of yesterdays.

I always find it tricky to know what to say about my dad on this blog.  To know how to share that bit of my life with readers without it turning into a pity party or a sob fest.  To be vulnerable without making others uncomfortable.  I suppose I may say things that are too personal, but more than any other event, my dad's death has affected, shifted, alternated my life.  And so I suppose every year I will write this post that marks the numbers of years that have passed since he left us.  Because I love him and miss him and because so much about the way that I am is because of my dad.

In days that are especially difficult, when the pangs of missing are extra sharp, I think about what it would be like to see my dad again in this earth.  I'm not greedy- I wouldn't ask to have him back permanently.  But how about once a year?  How about a two hour lunch with my dad- a time to catch up, to feel how much he loves me, and to be daddy's little girl again?  What would I say to my dad if I could talk to him again, if I were to catch him up on everything about my life?

Dad- did you know I got married?  Of course you do.  I felt you there that day.  Did you know I'm a teacher?  Of course you do- I know how proud you are of how hard I work.  Did you know that I am writing regularly- and that hundreds of people read what I write?  I think you would be really proud of this.  Did you know that we all miss you so much even though sometimes we just don't talk about it because it's easier not to?  Did you know that last night mom and all your kids that could got together and Phil made your pizza recipe and we talked about the good old days and mom told us about when you two were dating?  Did you know that mom is so strong?  That she carries on and serves other and never feels sorry for herself.  I feel sorry for myself sometimes, but then I look to mom's example and remember that we have been so blessed.  Did you know that Mary is a missionary in Argentina and that all of your kids went on missions?  You left that legacy to us.  You always had that passion for sharing your beliefs, and did you know you passed it on to all of us?  Did you know that you have so many grandkids, and even two more on the way?  Did you know that a Mormon ran for president?  Did you know that we all carry a part of you, that all of your kids do things that they learned from you?  Did you know that we love you and miss you?

And yet, I suppose I could never really feel justified in asking for this.  I don't need a lunch date with my dad, because I already see him regularly.  My dad lives in the shadows of my life.  I see him, I feel him, I hear him oftentimes when I least expect it.  The times when I feel him closest to me are the times when I am doing the things he loved to do.  One morning in the summer I was staying at our cabin and woke up early to make french toast.  I was the only one awake and the sun was just beginning to shine its brilliant rays on us.  I stood there, in that kitchen my dad loved so much, where he laid the tile with his bear hands, feeling the early morning sunshine that he couldn't get enough of, and I felt him there with me, lurking in the shadows.

The other night I was watching a television program and the dog, Buddy, was sitting on my lap.  I needed to get a glass of water so I patted the couch next to me and said, "Hop off pop..."  telling the dog to hop off of me.  I was immediately taken aback.  Where had this phrase come from?  I hadn't heard it in years.  Memories surfaced of me as a little girl, sitting on my dad's lap to read the comics with him.  And when we were all done, and it was time for me to get off my dad's lap, he would always command me to "Hop off pop."  And here I was, years later with that phrase resurfacing to the forefront of my memory.  I couldn't help but smile and feel my dad close to me.

A couple of weeks ago, the heavens unleashed on us, and 8 inches of snow mercilessly dumped down.  I came home from school that Friday and noticed the driveway, covered in inches and inches of seemingly harmless snowflakes.  I thought, "Heck!  I can shovel this up for my mom, no problemo!"  I put some gloves on, whipped out the old, trusty shovel, and set to work. 

About three minutes in I was completely exhausted.  "Wow!  Shoveling inches and inches of snow is hard work!" I thought.  "How have I lived to be 26 years old and never know how bad this sucks?"  Instantly, I thought of my dad and the countless times I had seen him shoveling driveways, porches, patios, and walkways.  I remembered a huge snowstorm where my siblings and I rushed out to the back yard to make snowforts, snow angels, and snowball after snowball after snowball.  My dad shoveled while we played.  We made a snowman and he shoveled.  He engaged in a furious snowball fight.  He shoveled.  Long after we were exhausted and frozen and inside warming up ourselves with hot chocolate, my dad shoveled on.

How many thankless hours had he spent shoveling snow?  Or doing some other work to give me such comforts in life?  Weeding gardens or planting potatoes or clipping toenails or chopping firewood?  How many things had he sacrificed in his life to give his kids and wife the lives we now know?  How much money did he spend on us, how many tuition checks did he write, how many cars did he endlessly repair on account of his eight kids?  It was almost a revelation to me, that Friday afternoon, as I shoveled that driveway- my dad must have done so much to make my life comfortable that I will never be aware of.  That I will never be able to thank him for.  He gave everything for us.  It is difficult to explain how something as everyday as shoveling snow can become so sublime and even spiritual, but I felt my dad's presence there with my so strongly that afternoon, felt him in the shadows, shoveling with me, thanking me for helping my mom, and telling me he loved me.

And so, even though I yearn for that lunch date with my dad, long to have him here again making pizza for us, daydream about a conversation we might have, I will continue to thank God for putting my dad right where he is.  In the memories, in the family get togethers, and even in the snow.

In the shadows of my life.

For more posts on my dad and dealing with death go here, here, and here.

37 comments:

  1. Praying for you in this difficult time. I lost my best friend almost five (wow) years ago, and it truly does feel like yesterday. It's easy to overlook those little things and take them for granted. Stay strong, Bonnie!

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  3. Very rarely do I cry reading blog posts. My dad lives on the opposite coast and I do take for granted all of the adventures we had as kids. Thanks for reminding me to call my dad!

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  4. My prayers go out to you and your family, dear. My father passed a while back, and while I know every situation is different, it's never easy to lose a father and I feel that pain.

    XOXO.

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  5. Bonnie, that was incredibly sweet. I really enjoy reading your blog.

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  6. Its been almost 20 years ago that I lost my dad and 2 months since my mom passed away. Its always the small things that have been the hardest or that will put me in tears. This is a great post

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  7. Funny thing, they are always with us. No matter what. We just have to listen.
    I lost my mama 12 years ago and my nonna about 18months ago. Losing them was tough, but its the memories that keep me through.
    Your words are wonderful and just remind me that we have to look at the little things that keep the memories alive.

    Sending you love and prayers...
    xoxo

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  8. Stay strong girl. Keeping you in my thoughts. :)

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  9. Beautiful. You're dad would be proud!
    ~Jessica

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  10. Such a beautiful post! I love reading your blog. Stay strong.

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  11. I think it's brave that you are able to be so transparent on here. Thanks for sharing sweet memories of your dad with us. He sounds like a great man. I'll be praying for your family.

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  12. Gosh Bon you are so brave. I teared up reading this, but not because of feeling bad for you. But feeling like I don't treasure what I have nearly often enough. We are only blessed with this life for so long. Thank you for inspiring me. XO

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  13. It is, the little things that keep them alive. You are so blessed and we can sense your gratitude. It is beautiful.
    Of all the words you shared with us...asking your dad if he knows your mom's strength, is the most powerful to me. After watching your parents work together for years upon years it must be amazing to see how one can continue on from the strength left behind from their partner, their best friend. Keep going strong, and listen for him after the lunch bell.

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  14. My mom died when I was 8 years old. Those small things that bring them back and remind us of them are so precious. I'm so glad in the journey of grief there is always hope.

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  15. It's been a while since I stopped by and wow way to tug at my heart strings...I'm sorry for your loss and I'm glad you have found all the happy memories of your dad to reflect on. I definitely appreciate my dad as I get older.

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  16. It's been a while since I stopped by and wow way to tug at my heart strings...I'm sorry for your loss and I'm glad you have found all the happy memories of your dad to reflect on. I definitely appreciate my dad as I get older.

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  17. After this weekend I realised I don't know if I will be able to survive if anything had to happen to one of my parents.
    I'm sorry for you loss.
    http://johced-ourjourneytoeverywhere.blogspot.com/
    xxx

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  18. That was so sweet! I know your dad is so proud of you. Xoxo, Karen

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  19. Beautiful post Bon. It's been almost 24 years since I lost my dad and I still have days where I miss him terribly.

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  20. What a beautiful and moving post. Sending prayers your way!

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  21. This is an incredibly touching post. I am so sorry for your loss, but so glad you are able to feel your father still in your life.

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  22. I understand how you feel. My dad past away 9 years ago this month. It was hard for me one day when I realized I couldn't picture his face in my head anymore. I take comfort knowing I will be with my father one day in heaven but until then I love when I have a dream and he is there. It's like a little extra visit before eternity.

    My heart goes out to you.

    Laura@Mice In The Kitchen

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  23. I love this so much. Knowing he lives in the shadows of your life...yes. And aren't those the places we need our loved ones the most?
    xoxo

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  24. You are amazing. I lost my Mom when I was 16, she never knew her grandchildren. I know right where you are, and you wrote it out wonderfully! Make it a good Monday, praying for you.

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  25. It's been almost a year since my sister passed away. It blows my mind how fast time has gone by, but it feels like it's already been forever since I've seen her.

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  26. Praying for you! You're an amazing woman Bonnie!
    Ps...I think you would be great at writing a book! You know how to capture the essence of things, what's important. You'd be great at it.

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  27. Tears. This is such a sweet post, and I am so sorry you lost your dad. I can tell reading this you two had such a special relationship, and he is definitely still with you to this day. Xo <3

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  28. It sounds like your father was an amazing, Godly man. Praying that your family be filled with the peace and joy that can only come from our Heavenly Father during this hard time.

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  29. You are so strong. Wish I could give you a big hug! You really do have 2 fathers who are in heaven watching over you. :)

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  30. Thinking about you Bon! You are one brave lady... so sorry for the loss of your father, but so glad you had such a beautiful relationship with him.

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  31. This made me tear up. I think about my own dad and how much I love him, how hard he worked to make my life comfortable. This was a beautiful post.

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  32. Bonnie...such beautiful words. But with all of your comments about ME being strong, remember...YOU shoveled the snow. We all were strengthened by dad's influence.

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  33. That was beautiful! My best friend just lost her dad and I can't wait to share this with her. He sounds like an amazing man.

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  34. Bon, this is beautiful. Your father sounds like an amazing man, and your post made me want to go hug mine and thank him for all the things he does for me. Thank you for reminding me of how amazing fathers are :)

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  35. This is beautifully written. Really.

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  36. Bonnie, thank you for writing this. This was so beautifully written and heartfelt. One of my biggest fears in life is losing a parent, and I'm daddy's little girl, too, so this made me tear up a little! I think that your dad would be proud of all you've done and I'm sure he watches over you!

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