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This picture is one of my true favorites. It was taken at Final Review, when I became a 'Zip' and reached the pinnacle of the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets. It also reminds me of a great time in my life, before life really started to test me. May 1996.
I was reminded this past few weeks of how truly blessed I was to have such caring, loving, patient parents. Since Valentine's Day this year, 2011, I've been approached, written to, called, and just generally reminded from people far and wide about the joys and blessings Mom and Dad were to people, how they afffected lives, and just how good of a job they did raising their two kids.
I know these things, and I guess, really, I knew these things all along. However; at certain times in your life, you are reminded of how special and precious live can be.
My father Bruce passed away this year in the early morning of Sunday, February 13. For about two and a half years, he really didn't have a good quality of life. See, he lost the love of his life, my Mom, Jo, in December of 2008; at that time he began pretty much round the clock oxygen to assist breathing. Dad had congestive obstructive pulmonary disease, also known as COPD. For about the last year, he lived within a 30 foot radius at home.
I really expected to lose it when that day came. I expected to be a ball of nerves, and be overwhelmed for a few weeks at least. I told friends that I hadn't yet grieved from my Mother, and when Dad went to join her, I would grieve for both. I'm actually trying to figure out why I seem to be dealing much better than I expected.
First, I think that the fact that both of my parents dealt with a huge amount of pain in the last few months of their lives, and they both passed to a place without pain is a true blessing. My first thought, actually, upon hearing the news of Dad's passing Sunday morning, was "I can see them dancing."
Second, I think I grieved in a way for the last few years. I felt like I had spent good quality time with Dad in the past year. I have not been working for awhile for a variety of reasons, or at least in an official capacity. I was able to spend an entire week over Christmas this past year with him, just sitting next to him, chatting, talking, enjoying. It was not the best situation, with him napping a good part of the day because of medications and his condition, and with the constant rhythm and hum of the oxygen concentrator merely feet away, and but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I got back home to Houston on Saturday night. My sister, her family and I spent the last two weeks taking care of the arrangements, getting things in order, and making some emotional decisions of which we both know is just the beginning of the process. We are meeting back at the end of the month to continue preparing the house for the next generation, and to continue the business of the Elmquist estate.
Friends that really know me have called to check on me, and make sure I'm ok. I now believe that I have grieved for Mom; and that I really have grieved for Dad for the past few years, too. I get emotional at times, and I'm sure that I'll have my moments from here on out. Truth is, I miss them. I miss calling them on the phone to ask them stuff that didn't really matter in the great scheme of things anyway.
I believed that my Dad didn't really grieve for my Mom like I would have. I think the grieving process has a lot to do with memories, with sharing why they were great people, why they chased you down the street, or why they made me do certain things to raise me better. Or how they taught me how to treat people by example. Or maybe the fact that I have three boxes of penguins in every size that shows how much Mom really loved being the mother of a son with a corps nickname of questionable source. Or how proud they were of Son and Daughter and bragged every day of their lives about us.
I will grieve. It's time. And even though Dad really didn't enjoy the last months as much as I wish he could have, I know he's with his bride, who loved him, and they're dancing. Yeah.
Miss You, Mom. Miss You, Dad. I love you both.
Someone recently asked me about the picture below. It's my Dad at an Aggie Football Game. My parents held season tickets while I marched in the Aggie Band, and I knew how proud they must have been, trying to follow the instructions from their son as to where he stood on the field, and if they lost him during the halftime drill, where he would be in the block T as we marched off the field. These past few weeks have shown me, I really had no idea how proud.
To Mom and Dad: I'm proud to be your Son. And Dad: I will never forget your sense of humor. As twisted as it was sometimes, it was all yours. Rest in peace, and give Mom a kiss for me. :)
