My father made his final passage just over two years ago. The man who lives on in my heart and mind is a composite of memories from my earliest days to the last time I saw him in the flesh.
It is altogether fitting that he is made up of images, moments, events, tokens, all combined with a proper share of personal mythology. This blend of reality and memory is much more real to me than the frail old man's body that housed his essence as he began to slip away from his family.
I guess that is why it is so easy for me to file away, if not just let go of, the difficult moments. It also allows me to forgive myself for dwelling on his shortcomings (and my own--for we all own our fair share) instead of looking to the good, which was always there in greater abundance. When I look at the sum of all things that were my father, they add up to a remarkable human.
One of my father's favorite pastimes was grilling. In his honor, and with the pleasure it brings to me, I have fired up my smoker/grill the last 2 years on Father's Day. I know he would approve. I think of him and smile, as my eyes well up--only partly from the smoke billowing off of the grill. The wound that is his loss will always be with me. My memories are the salve.
If you have lost your father, I feel with you. If your father is still here, call him, or better still, hold him close while you still can. Happy Father's Day!
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