Remembering A Very Special 'Soul' On All Souls Day
Dad died young; and I was too young when he died.
He was 56; I was 14. Just when I had begun maturing to the point where our relationship could grow stronger through true adult friendship, he was gone.
In this week’s “Connecting Faith and Life” column, which also appears on this page, Denise Anderson says this in a reflection on All Soul’s Day, which is Nov. 2: “Grief can last days or years, so it is important to give ourselves time to recall all of what we miss and give it to God once again. The saints are our models and support to guide us in our faith, grief, and journey home to God.”
My first thought, upon reading that, was that I can’t miss what I never had. Dad never talked to me about what he thought I might – or should – do with my life. He never listened as I shared “girl problems” because I never had any before he died. Being 14 in 1970 was a whole lot different – and way less adult – than being 14 today.
He never heard me play in a band. My affection for music came at least partially from him, but he didn’t encourage me to pick up an instrument or play in bands. That all happened after he was gone. Same with my decisions to pursue a journalism degree, and to follow the career path that I have.
Elsewhere in this issue, Tyler Tenbarge writes about the encouragement to discern his vocation to the priesthood that he has received from his family, friends, pastors and teachers. Dad used to get up early to get me to school in time to serve 6:45 a.m. Mass, but he never mentioned anything if he had an idea that I should discern a religious vocation.
It has occurred to me many times over the past almost-45 years that God the Father impacted those decisions, not my biological father – and that if Dad had lived longer, I might not realize today how important the guidance of the Holy Trinity has been – and is – in my life.
I regret not having any of the opportunities to share with Dad that are mentioned in the past few paragraphs – let alone all of them. I never got angry over missing them – I never blamed God or told Him that He messed up.
Instead, I thanked Him for not forcing Dad to suffer longer than he did. About this time in 1969, he started having intense pain in one shoulder blade. Turned out a lymphatic tumor was causing that – because the cancer that had developed in his lungs had spread to his lymph nodes. He went from being what we thought was perfectly healthy to dead in about nine months.
I actually grieved – in the moment – over his suffering. I wished and prayed that he didn’t have to go through it.
Today, as I remember him, I don’t grieve over that suffering because God ended it it June 1970. I don’t grieve over what I missed.
Instead, I thank God for giving me more than 14 years with a humble, faith-filled man who always put the needs of others before those of himself and, sometimes, even of his family – and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. I can’t remember how many times dad would come home one night during the weeks he worked day shift in the coal mines and take me to the basement with him while he was troubleshooting someone’s TV set that stopped working – or the times he would go to a neighbor’s house to help with a remodeling project (he apparently was a good electrician) or be in our driveway under some neighbor’s car fixing something or other.
I also thank God that Dad and my Mom never once told me I couldn’t do or be anything. I have achieved a lot, with God’s help, because of that.
Playing off last week’s column – don’t grieve this All Soul’s Day. Instead, celebrate what those loved ones – now in Heaven – left behind as treasures that you enjoy and benefit from.
