The Right Heart

Every human being must find his own way to cope with severe loss, and the only job of a true friend is to facilitate whatever method he chooses.
Caleb Carr 

          My father was Military man through and through. He loved life even when it confined him to a wheel chair.  I can remember his practical jokes, his smile, and his ability to tell me the truth in a way he knew it would reach me.  We had our share of disagreements along the way, some political, some ethical, some born out of the sheer nature of the father/daughter relationship.  He taught me that he was a man that he his share of mistakes and often told me to remember after he died to remember that  which made life easier but not to lose sight of the truth.

          So here it goes, he was absent most of my growing up.  I spent a great deal of time with my Grandmother in my yearly years because he was serving in Vietnam.  Now I am not a product of the revolution against war so please, save that fight for another day.  He did what he felt he had to do in service of his country. He returned home and eventually married a very wonderful woman, Doris.  They had a seemingly good life until he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease.  He would spend the next decade in out of treatment and hospitals.  He still managed to love, laugh and live.  He taught me by example that laughter was a great cure for most of life’s issues.  He was a proud grandfather. Doris, well in my book anyway, she was a cross between Florence Nightingale and Saint Christopher. The Lord knows she was his strength a great deal of the time. In the end, he had his good days and his bad ones.

          Many years have passed since we laid him to rest in Quantico National Cemetery. I think of him every time one the boys pull a practical joke and I know he is laughing.  I see him the face of my daughter as she smiles and she does have her Grandfather’s dimples.  I believe that he is finally at peace.  I imagine him looking down occasionally and shaking his head asking, “Ruthie Ann what are you thinking?”  For the most part, I find a great joy in my thoughts of him though I have moments of sadness. I hate that Jbear never got to know each other because I know they would have hit it off.   Sad that Kyrie did not get to the living example of a good man. Then I pick myself up and wipe away the tears because he would have hated them. It is time for some laughter.  I mean after all what can one expect to think of man that would sing It is Me Again Margaret by Ray Steven in the church’s talent show. 

          I think Daddy was my first real loss.  My grandmother Ruth passed away and at the time, finances did not work for me to attend the funeral so in my mind she is still somewhere sewing on her antique machine madly pushing the pedal making doll clothes or anther quilt.  I can remember I just could not really face him lying in that casket but it did not seem ultimately over until taps was being played and the sound of gun shots were echoing through the air. Whether it was a conscious decision or unconscious one, to this day, I am unsure but the result has been the same. I think of him somewhere watching us, playing practical jokes, and having a good laugh.  I have a notion that when things fall into the great black hole his mischievous side has helped misplace them.  That is the way I deal with death.

          It is hard for me when I have seen people lose parent, when I lost my Aunt, or they suffer the loss of their beloved pets. I want to find that something that seems like the right thing to say. For me to say you have my condolences seems like the tripe and dribble of someone that could care less when in fact is the farthest thing from my mind. I have come to realize everyone deals with loss in his or her own way. Each instance has to be different and each expression of grief to that person has to be one they can accept.

          My best friend Barb lost her mother this year.  We talked everyday and you have to know her but she is by far the best organizer I have ever known.  I knew she could not possibly need my help but every day I checked on her and we talk and I knew when we hung up she felt loved. All she truly needed was to know that someone was still there to hold her hand and help talk her through the awkward moments. That was easy.  I love her and we have been friends for twenty-two years. 

          My friend Stephen was a bit more difficult.  He lost his beloved Tripod, beautiful three-legged dog that he rescued and raised for ten years. They were exceptionally close. One day they were moving and he was fine and the next he was sick.  The passing was devastating.  I was so humbled when this normally strong, truly Zen man was so obviously in a great deal of pain. I did not really know what to do or say but then I realized he just wanted to talk about it.  He wanted me to listen and listen I have tried to do.

           The grief in each case was tremendous while they are categorically different losses to each of these individuals.  To be honest, as a friend, I felt totally helpless to do much of anything to avert their suffering. I think I will always be the person that struggles to find that path of consolation. Maybe we all do.  I do realize that my heart never ceases to give the valiant try though because in the end I value my friends dearly.  To me, most are family.  So if I do not say the right things, or understand the need to mark each anniversary of their death, It is not because I do not understand the grief involved, I do.  I am just uncertain what you need from me in order to process your grief. As a friend, as a family member, the best that I can offer is to say that I am trying. I think that is a better resolution than empty sentiments.

           

It did however remind me of a lesson I learned many years ago. Our days are numbered.  We never truly know when we have reached the last one until that second just before we have gone when it much too late to do anything about all the things we meant to do while we here.  I know that I am not alone in this eternal struggle. It something we all face eventually. I do have a little wisdom passed on to me that I would like to share. Send the flowers while they are alive. Tell them they are loved and share what they mean to you on a regular basis. Agree to disagree in order to solve the argument. Let them know that even when you argue, that you care. Celebrate the small events.  I would rather have a drink and sit down to dinner with you now than for you to do it alone  after my funeral. We all take for granted that people know what we feel a times. We assume that by our actions or deeds they got the point.  Well, sometimes, that just is not the case. Sometimes it requires the words.

When the hear and now has passed, and all that is left is goodbye.  I hope that you will look back with no regrets as I intend to do also.  We all deal in different ways and you may not always know what to say but if you give your heart, you will find a way. Allow them to guide you and they will tell you how they need you. It is never about the words but about the heart. That is the measure of a true friend.