It's been 13 years today since my father passed away. I'm always so careful to only say good things about my dad's death, since I really do feel so comfortable with it; I know it was supposed to happen. I have found a great deal of happiness in spite of his passing. And really I just don't want to dwell on the past to much, because the future is so lovely, and there's so much to look forward to.
But I had a thought. Now that I'm a mom (the first anniversary that I have a child of my own), and I can only think that he probably didn't want to go. I mean, I am certain that there is a plan for our lives, and when we have lived a good life we move on and feel great peace. But no matter how great the peace that he felt, I am sure part of him wished he could stay with us here in mortality and see us grow. I say this now, because that's exactly how I feel about my little girl. I pray every day that I won't be taken away from this life because I need to be here, I want to see every moment of her life. And I imagine my father felt the same.
I don't say this to feel sorry for myself, or even for him, but rather to have a greater understanding of what it means to be a parent and how precious our time here is. To cherish each smile, each laugh, and to cuddle away every tear. I am so grateful for my father's wonderful example. His life remains a defining aspect of my life, and of my testimony of Eternal families.
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Oh my gosh, I think these exact same things. I will occasionally think about how our family would function if one of us was "missing". Although any loss is tragic for a family, I think about how bad I would feel for James if he lost David or me. It makes me be more careful about the things that I do. Great post, Amanda. :)
ReplyDeleteThere are no words, except that you are amazing! Great post. I remember when your dad died, and how tragic that was, for all of us even. He was a great man, and he raised a great daughter! I admire your strength and testimony!
ReplyDeleteAmanda, thank you for sharing this sweet post. Becoming a parent puts so many things in perspective doesn't it? Sometimes I think that we need to hurry up and get a will drawn up in case something happens to both of us and then I think about who I would want to take care of Janen. It sounds depressing, but you really have to think about those things. I appreciate what you said about cherishing every moment. Ain't it the truth?
ReplyDeleteAmanda, I completely understand what you are saying here. Now that I have a baby of my own (7 weeks old), I find myself recalling my mom's last weeks here. She often expressed how badly it hurt to know that she wouldn't be here to keep developing relationships with her children and my dad, but that we would all continue in our relationships with eachother. The thought of passing away now, and not getting to raise my daughter and be there for her (the way no one but a mother can), makes me sick inside.
ReplyDeleteI find it refreshing how open you are in talking about your dad's death. I still remember talking about it with you at opera workshop; it was wonderful. Thank you for that!
I don't know how I managed to miss this post but this is absolutely beautiful, Amanda. I, too, often have thoughts of how saddening it would be to miss out on watching my little boy grow up. There are some days when I just get frustrated as a Mommy or a Wife and then I remind myself, "what if this was our last night together? How do I want us both to remember this?"
ReplyDeleteIn some ways I think we really do continue those relationships, even in the times we are apart. I know it's not at all the same thing but when I was a little girl I would talk to my Grandma Amy. I never met her. She died when my dad was 12 years old. But from how people would talk about her I knew I wanted to know her. I would talk to her and ask Heavenly Father to tell her things for me and take care of her. At some point I started to "grow-up" and think that was silly. Now I wish I'd never stopped. I like to think she, in some way, was doing the same for me on the other side of the veil and that someday when we meet, we will know one another.