Sunday, November 10, 2013

Ethyl's Birthday

Ethyl Johnson Cooley - circa 1920s
Great-Grandma Ethyl was born one hundred and fourteen years ago today in Vandalia, Missouri to Edward and Pinky Johnson.  She was ahead of her time and most certainly can be described as a phenomenal woman.

This Journey...


Richard, Loretta and Lou
 I had a dream about my Dad last night, which was the first time I've dreamed about him since his death.  It was very comforting to see and talk to him in my dream.  I never doubted he was "okay or in a good place," but the dream reassured me all is well.

I've learned so much about myself, my relationship with Dad and the relationship with members of my family and friends, since he took his last breath on September 14.  I have a better understanding of my FAITH as well.  For you see, FAITH is the one and only thing that allows you to continue to move forward.  Hoping/wishing/expecting people to be supportive in trying times will only add more grief to the grief one goes through when a loved one dies.  Trust me, this I know all too well.  Some of the people I thought would be there jumped ship quickly and hurriedly.  Granted - we all have lives to life, places to go, things to see, etc.  But as my friend Rodney explained, "It's like making a deposit in the bank.  You expect to be able to make a withdrawal at a time when it's needed, only to learn you can't."  That best describes how I feel.  I've been (and I'm not tooting my horn - I'm stating truth) supportive and encouraging to people in times when they needed a shoulder, an ear, money, a HEART.  I turned to them when I needed an ear, a heart to discover they couldn't be found.  No phone call, no text message, no love.  That's a hard pill to swallow, but I did.  I have a greater understanding and know how to proceed from this moment on.  To those that were there, those that offered encouragement, love, laughter or an ear to listen to me - there is no possible way to thank you enough.  I don't have anything nice to say about the others, so I'll STFU.

Dad and Mom out and about with a couple of friends - 1960s
One thing I noticed not long after Dad died was how he always showed me he loved me.  Dad wasn't one to say, "I Love You" very often, but he did show me he loved me all my life.  So many events over the years I had forgotten came forward at that time and are still coming forward today.  Two days before he died we had a good conversation.  One where we could express our feelings, one that let him know how much I loved him, and one where he told me he loved me.  I will always remember that chance we had to talk, to say to the each other, "I Love You."  I'm grateful we had that time together to make clear how we felt. There wasn't any doubt, but saying and hearing the words brings comfort to me.
My Dad
It will soon be two months since Dad died and I find this journey without him to simply BE.  There are days when I'm okay, doing fine, not having any difficulties at all.  The days when it's so hard and painful are the ones that force me to recall the good times that much more.  I found laughter to be the key to help me deal with Dad's death.  I've cracked jokes and laughed my way through some emotionally draining days.  With that said - it's still a new way of life in which I must learn to live.  I'll be honest, I didn't think I would miss him so much, but I do.  I've heard many, many, many, many, many times about how he's in a better place. How the body, the human experience is what has passed.  The soul/spirit/essence of  him lives on.  Uh huh - I know.  That doesn't stop me from missing him.  Not one bit.
moments with My Dad
So I pick myself, dust myself off, get it together and keep on keeping on.  I've said this before and I will say it again, FAITH is what will see you through the difficult times.  Your family and friends can't always (and in some cases they simply don't give a shit) be there when you need them.  I've learned to accept people for who they are, what they are and where they are - period.  This is what I've done and this is what I will do from this moment forward.  Yes, Dad's death taught me many things about myself and others.  These are the "lessons of life" you'll never forget.  Keep your head up!