Milestones
I have been noting certain milestones since my Dad passed. One month. Two months. Other milestones or notable events have transpired or are coming. Christmas. Birthdays. My Dad's birthday. My Mom's. Their anniversary. Today is my oldest son Henry's birthday (March 9).
My parents together were really faithful at sending cards and calling on grandchildren's birthdays. My Dad was really thoughtful about the messages he would write in the cards. He would make drafts on scrap paper or in notebooks, talk about it with my Mom, and then once he was happy with the message he would transcribe it onto the card.
This practice started to waver as he got sick and felt worse and worse. After he passed, we found cards that he had intended to go to certain people, but didn't feel well enough to finish. It really tore him up that his capacity for these things started to fall away.
The intention and execution of this habit is notable. I intend to "text" people all the time and find that two weeks will go by. It is one of the easiest things to do and I don't follow through.
A couple weeks ago I was going through one of my drawers and found the last four birthday cards that my parents sent. My Dad's handwriting. It struck me that while I will still get cards from my Mom, and they will be special, but they will also be different. His unique imprint will not be on the cards. I grieve that.
There will be hundreds and probably thousands of instances that will turn my thoughts to my Dad. The things I love about him and miss. There are however, two effects after losing my Dad that I wouldn't take away. One, I feel like I have become more introspective. Slowing down and meditating on my life and how I am living it. Two, it has opened my eyes to look for those who are hurting around me. Providing a greater compassion as I realize what others have gone through or are currently going through. It has exposed how pathetic of a friend I have been for others when they have lost someone.
Action must adorn intention. Being a person of faithfulness requires both. I'm grateful to my Dad for teaching me that, through something as simple as mailing birthday cards.
