I know I haven't really posted about my dad's passing. I started writing some things, but they're just a bit too personal to post. Stuff that probably no one else would really be interested in, I guess.

So all month long, we've been cleaning 'the house' out, little by little. 'The house'. It was home for over twenty years. Lots of memories there. Lots of flat out stuff there!

I feel like every time I go over there, I learn a bit more about my dad I didn't know before. I feel like in some ways my dad was such a tricky character to figure out. He could be the most sociable person, and chat with anyone, but there were also many things about him that he never shared with anyone, leaving much of him a mystery. I mean, growing up, there were just a lot of things we didn't talk about! Now, as we are going through so much of his stuff, there are so many questions that beg to be answered.

It's funny. I always thought I was a know-it-all. Sure, I see you all nodding your heads in agreement out there. Really. I thought I was such a smartie pants. I got straight A's in school. I had good judgement, was smart with money, had a good work ethic. I mean, I had a lot of good things going for me. But it made me a bit cocky. I distinctly remember at 16, thinking I pretty much knew it all. Then it was 17. Oh, and then 19- I mean, really, really by then I did just know everything. I managed to beat the statistics and I graduated high school fourth in my class and was in college not paying a dime for my schooling, getting As, and I was not doing all the stupid things 'typical' nineteen year olds do. See, I was just smart, and knew things.

Hmmmm....

Then life has a way of happening. A way of teaching lessons all it's own- not from a textbook, not by grading, not discriminatory toward know-it-alls. Responsibilities, heartaches, life-decisions, family dynamics, heartbreaks, illness, loneliness. All of them started me re-thinking this know-it-all status that, unfortunately, I clung to as part of my identity. Over the years, that part of my identity was chipped away by life. You live, you learn. I did feel like I was learning things, but still felt like it was just adding to my vast knowledge base.

I graduated. Went to school some more. Graduated again. Got married. Yep, lots of learning experience.

Then we had a baby.

That was the biggest change in my life. All at once, I knew. I knew...that I knew so little! Life was so much bigger than I, and had soo much to learn.

So why do I go on and on about all this.

Again, I feel like God has kinda knocked me down, in an attempt to humble and teach me. Death is a part of life. I can read about it, and learn and understand the end of life, and the eternal and the afterlife. But it's nothing like experiencing the death of a loved one. It has helped immensely to know what I believe and why, but this whole process of losing a loved one is so new to me. And yet, if I just look around, there are so many that share their stories and personal experiences, and I know I'm not alone. But it's just so new and foreign to me.

My dad's passing hasn't had a numbing effect. His presence is missed, but not so immediately. There was a funeral and burial to plan. There was family in town. Oh, was there family. Blessed family that carried each other through with smiles and tears. So many good memories of that time with family.

Then there's cleaning out the house and filing all the paperwork. It's more mechanical for me.
Sort, pile, toss, pack, label. Go through it all. Mark your goals and complete them by the set time. Oh, it doesn't mean I don't stop and reminisce along the way. Sure, it's easy and even fun to do. (Hey, I'm still laughing till my sides hurt about Jenny's 'life' she created by cutting pictures out of the JCPenny catalog!)

But by going through all of Dad's things, naturally, we get to see a little bit more of Dad. Yes, the dad we always knew...but more. The why's and how's of why he kept this or did that, or just what the heck all of these things were for (he really had a hobby in computers!) He wouldn't let us just go through his things and sort them all out. But now that it has to be done, I kinda wish he were here so I could just ask him once more, 'what were these parts for?' 'What did you do with these computers?' 'Where the heck is the condensed version of your genealogy! :)'

When all these little questions pop up, I kinda feel guilty for not listening more. Once I got married, and especially once I had Rosie, my relationship with my dad changed for the better. I cared more about my parents, my past. I was growing up. I was very aware of my dad's failing health, and treasured the times he came to visit. No regrets there. I loved talking to him about all things old. But much as I loved to listen, it's wasn't like it was just him and I, having a lovely quiet conversation. It was at my house. And I have four kids. 'Nuff said. Still, I wish I could've done more.

I guess it's a sense of discovery about myself and my family through all this stuff with my dad. Maybe I just internalize these things more. I start guessing answers to the whys in my head and conclude things about him I never really knew. I relate them to things in my life, and question why I do some of the things I do. But they are things that we could never talk about in life, and now I am left to figure them out for my life. Not a horrible thing, and maybe others go through this just the same, but it's just something I didn't really anticipate or expect.

Ah, and finally what got me on this whole post this night. My dear sister is vising my other dear sister in Chicago. I called to see how they were doing. I could tell their spirits were light, and I heard my sis playing this on the piano in the background. I immediately recognized it from this songbook, and I was in tears. It was so dad.

Upon a bit of research on the Internet (am loving the Internet for this, btw) about this song, I find a lot more about it that I didn't know, and again, a lot more about my dad I didn't really know. I guess a way to describe it is that I feel like a lot of puzzle pieces are being put together as I learn more about my dad's life, in relation to my life, his life, eternal life. I don't feel like his passing has left me traumatized, or grief-stricken, despite the newness of the experience. I feel like it's opened my mind and heart to learn and grow and love more in this life.