Keeping Company With My Father

A while ago I met a woman whose mother had died recently. Her mother owned a holiday apartment not too far away from here. This woman had gone to the apartment for the first time since her mother’s death, to see how things were and try to decide what to do with the things in the apartment.

During our conversation we talked about material possessions of a deceased person: how it is difficult in times of mourning to differentiate between things that have material value, sentimental value, possible further practical use, and how, in the end, things are really just things. We also talk about how perhaps the only good thing about someone dying, is they are no longer bound by the material world, and thus, they can be with us anywhere, at any time.

In this manner, my father lives in my heart. He no longer just emails me from Grenada, or calls from some tiny port on the west coast of Canada. Instead, he witnesses all of my family’s daily struggles and joys. He laughs, in that manner he has, at the funny occurrences that transpire, the curious encounters that happen, and the wonderfully crazy people who touch our lives.

His presence makes burdens easier to bear; for he points out how rich I am in love and spirit. This is due in part to his continued presence in my heart, in part to the love and joy my husband and the children bring into my life, and also, in part though my own intelligence and creativity. He is not my guardian angel as much as my constant companion.

In this festive season it is possible to lose sight of why we are celebrating birth and reflecting upon death. I spent a few hours yesterday visiting little Lina in the hospital. What a precious gift she is to her mother, sister, and papa and already such an integral part of the family. My heart sang with happiness. I’m also going to spend some moments in the days to come, to visit with my father, my constant companion, in quiet contemplation. Moments spent thanking him for the strengths he gave to me, and for ignoring all (most) of my weaknesses.