It’s about time

14 months ago today, on July 14, 2016, my dad died.

As far as I can remember, this is the first time I’ve written that anywhere.

Why did it take me this long to write that? What is different today that I want to write it? I don’t know. I haven’t really wanted to write about much of anything for a while. Well, I want to but haven’t…or maybe I just want to want to write. Why haven’t I? Is it tied to dealing with his death? I don’t know that either. I guess I suspect so.

I do know that I’m on sabbatical spiritual renewal leave, (There is a difference, at least officially in United Methodist polity. More on that another day.) maybe that has finally given me the space and time to be ready to write that.

When my leave started I set a goal to write regularly. My initial plan was one post the first week, two the second, three posts the third week… But as my once-again-ironically-named blog shows, that didn’t happen. All the usual doubts and self recriminations set in: you put it off yesterday, you can skip today too. You’ve got nothing worthwhile to add to what has already been said by the world on Twitter. No cares what you have to say, anyway… Like that.

But screw it. I’m done with that crap. Today I face that truth that has affected me for months:

My dad is dead. I miss him.

Maybe for today at least, just sitting with that is enough.

5 thoughts on “It’s about time

  1. Duane Buerstetta

    Dave, many of us have experienced a process of sorely missing a dad. While your experience would be uniquely your own, I’m sure there would be significant parallels with our experiences. One of those is, at some point, “sitting with”, as you say, the reality of it. I believe there is no time frame that grieving fits neatly within. Each of us must take the time that is necessary…for us I suspect that maybe because, given your calling, you expend so much energy helping others deal with their particular circumstances that prior to your spiritual renewal opportunity you have had insufficient time to adequately process your own feelings. In any event, from those of us who know and love you, there exists a large pool of empathetic understanding of what you are saying and where you are. You are not alone. Love, Uncle Duane

  2. Kathy Manderfield

    Dave, I loved hearing that you’re taking a sabbatical… DESERVE this time to rest, reflect, & recuperate (RR&r)…..and, to think ahead to your pastoral duties!! I know first hand…how difficult it is to lose ones parent…..and, all the memories that resurface….especially during that first year. 😦 I wasn’t ready to lose my Mom (1976) or Dad (2014) when I did…..and, I try to keep the memory of them alive in my kids/grandkids….as they didn’t know my mom at all, probably don’t remember Mike’s dad, and all have lots of memories of my dad and Mike’s mom. I always enjoy your posts…..take your time to reflect….and, if you start missing kids….Kathy’s Kids FCC is always open M-F…..stop by for coffee! 🙂 God Bless you & your family! xoxox

  3. Amy Shawen

    I’ve found that I, too, miss my dad in this strange new place. He would have loved it here. He referenced another place, but always said, “Tall trees. Someday it’ll all be yours.” I have tall trees. It’s mine. He wasn’t wrong. Good or bad, they make us who we are. Keep writing.

  4. Pingback: 83, almost – All That I Can't Leave Unsaid

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