of fathers and fatherhood

Can't help but being a little sad today, what with all of the reminders of fathers and fatherhood...

It's not that I'm not grateful for my own father. I love him dearly and I most certainly appreciate his presence in my life. But he's far, far away. And he has been for many years. Spending this day with him has not been a part of my yearly cycle for at least a decade.

And I'm also grateful for my dear, sweet husband, because he will be a wonderful father when the time comes.

It's just that I miss my father-in-law on this day dedicated to Dads. Spending the day with him, hubby, and my mother-in-law had become an important ritual in my yearly cycle 'lo these past 9 years. Although John is no longer with us, I'm grateful for the wonderful in-law relationships marriage has brought me; I know not everyone is completely accepted and wholly welcomed into the fold of the family they marry into, and that I've been very fortunate in this regard. (Indeed, it's precisely because of the love John and Irene have given me that this Father's Day pains me.) And, of course, I'm thankful to John's memory that he did such good work fathering Adam. But all of this gratitude doesn't fill the void left by John's absence.

Alas, the hurt is part of the healing, so I'll let myself feel it. And I'll remain grateful for the love I knew from my dear father-in-law, and do my best to stay strong for hubby's sake. This day is certainly more difficult for him than it is for me...

the days roll by disconnected

More than a week has passed since I became closely acquainted with death, and still I'm struggling to come to terms with this turn of events. Time seems to have taken on a different character; each day seems to last an eternity and it's become so easy to loose track of how much time has actually passed since that endless night when the sun set forever on John's life.

I did well enough the first few days; I think I was on auto-pilot to get through the funeral. And then we came home, which, for some reason, has been the hardest part. It's like it wasn't real to me while we were in Jackson; it was more like some hazy dream. It wasn't until I got back on the well-worn streets of New Orleans that it hit me with the force of a hurricane: I'll never again go home to see my dear sweet father-in-law. And then the tears came in a flood.

The tears have since dried up, but the sadness lingers. I feel immensely apathetic and the simplest tasks require me to summon super-human strength. Or so it seems.

I know there's nothing to do but work through it. I'm not pushing myself too hard, though; I'm temporarily lowering my expectations of myself, telling myself it's okay to feel this hurt and emptiness, and that I shouldn't be expected to bounce right back to my usually over-achieving self. Because I know that this sadness will pass; the void will always remain, but the acute pain of the loss will ease with time. And so it will go that, in time, I will bounce back to my usual level of productivity.

For the time being though, I'll let myself take it slow, and let the sadness wrap me in its misty embrace. As more days turn into more weeks and those weeks turn into months, it will get easier.

a loss

My father-in-law died last night. Hubby and I were there, along with my mother in law. It was quiet and peaceful. And it was time. The cancer he had been battling since May of 2008 had finally made living difficult for him, so we can only be glad that he went quickly and quietly after the decision was made Friday night to only give him palliative care.

Even still, the loss is hard to bare. I've never before experienced the loss of a close family member. And it's tough.

I thought I'd have more to write; writing usually helps me cope with difficult emotions. But here I find myself at a loss for words. Maybe it's too soon.

Johnny Eugene Hammack
05/15/1941 - 06/05/2010