March 23rd, 2013
Today, finally, we say goodbye to our Dad, Franklin J. Chiles. Wish me luck that I don't stumble, sob uncontrollably, hiccup, or otherwise mar this solemn day.
March 24th, 2103
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| Dad right before he is ordained as a deacon in the Catholic Church |
I started this post yesterday. I did just fine at the funeral. My brothers and sisters who read managed to get through their readings with hardly a hint of a sob. My older brother wrote and delivered a moving eulogy. There were more clergy, including the Bishop, all decked out in gold and red vestments, than I have ever seen gathered in one place.
And the follow-up luncheon went well.
By late afternoon, we all needed naps.
Today is another story. I was fine until my teeth started to hurt. And, suddenly, I felt very, very, very sorry for myself. Very, very, very, very... So I turned my hand of Hand and Foot over to my Mom. (Who can concentrate on cards with a toothache?) And I started home. I called Hub for a ride and when he picked me up - I dissolved. It was a me-sized puddle of pitiful, pain induced tears that crawled into bed. I am not as devastated as all that wailing implies. Sometimes weariness, stress, and pain induce a huge physical need in me to howl. It's like a dam breaking.
My teeth still hurt. I am still sad. But I don't feel so very, very sorry for myself. I had my Dad for a good long time. He loved me all my life and that love is with me still. I'm a lucky woman.
He's gone. Poof! Like that. Yesterday, he smiled and nodded and dozed; talked to his children and grandchildren on the phone; slept as we sat and reminisced about endless pounds of bluefish from his deep sea fishing trips and of gathering duck eggs in the Spring.
This morning, we gathered in that hospital room again. We cried. We laughed, though not as much. As each of the "locals" arrived, Mom cried a little more. We waited for a nurse or doctor to tell us what to do as his shell lay there, an empty reminder of what we have lost.
And then Mom held out her hands and we joined in a circle. Mom touched Dad's shoulder on one side. My sister touched his shoulder on the other side and we prayed together, as one.
Oh, Dad, see what you have done? Your children, together, loving you, loving each other? We each prayed that prayer, believing different things as we did, but united in our loss.
I want you back. I have things I want to ask you. I will ask my sisters and brothers. Together we will tell stories and you will be there. I hope. I pray. Hope sustains. It is our family motto.
My deepest sympathies to you and your family. I will add my prayers for comfort to those that you and yours are sending up.