Death, Forgiveness and Picking Up the Pieces

My last post was Wednesday, June 30th and that was also the day I got the call that my father-in-law had been admitted to the hospital for what would become his final illness.  He was in the hospital for a week or so and then chose to go into hospice where he passed away on Saturday, July 8th.  My grief has been deep and I continue to wrestle with the circumstances of his passing, but Dad was a person who practiced forgiveness and based his life on the principles of love, compassion and kindness to others.  I know he would tell me that my efforts to comfort, soothe and be present were enough.  At some point I'll get there myself but forgiveness of self comes so hard to me.  It's gonna take a while.

One of the greatest privileges of my life was getting to know Dad over the past year as his illness and hospitalizations grew more difficult.  We laughed, we cried, I held his hand, saw him at his worst and did my best to serve him with love and compassion.  He was one of the strongest people I know as he put his best face forward to ensure that the people he loved had everything they needed to feel secure and whole -- he rarely thought of himself.  His first question when faced with a decision was always, "How will this impact Mom?"  Even in his last days he joked with his nurses and told his children repeatedly how much he loved them and that his pride knew no bounds.   I loved it when he referred to me as his daughter and forgot to add the "in-law."  It made me so proud.

Since his death I've been mulling questions large and small including the status of this journey I've begun. Time on this earth is short (and also occasionally brutish and nasty), is this how I want to spend it?  How am I serving others -- is this the best way to do that?  Would this effort make Dad proud?  Do I have what it takes to pick up the barbell once more?

With all this swirling in my head I decided to start a new jigsaw puzzle (I love jigsaw puzzles and find them very soothing, I suppose it's the process of creating order out of chaos).  As I dumped the pieces put of the bag to start sorting I noticed the large heap and thought, "Man, a thousand pieces is a freaking lot of pieces!"  

That's when it hit me.  This journey started with a big pile of disparate pieces and will finish with a completed puzzle that is beautiful.  I think that puzzle is me. My experiences, my spirit, my body, my mind are all the pasts of me that must be sorted. I'll also gather new pieces along the way.  This quest is a part of that and I can no more give it up than I could any other piece of my puzzle.  Hopefully through my struggles I can help others along the way and provide encouragement that the work is worth it.

I think that was Dad's final gift to me, that sense of worthiness.  I could do no wrong in his eyes, his love was unconditional.  Now I need to keep some of that love close, learn to forgive myself and get back to sorting out the puzzle that is my life.

Thanks Dad.  Rest easy ...