overwhelming sadness
First thing tomorrow morning I will drive my babes to Decatur to say goodbye to their papa.
As I have done hundreds of times before, I will pull into that familiar steep driveway on Ravina Park Road and park my car next to Paul's truck. I will walk into the kitchen and expect to hear the same warm and loving welcome he always had for us, but tomorrow he will not be there. His chair at the kitchen table will be empty. There will be no rowdy Python hugs for my kids, no light-hearted exchange of insults with Luke, no sharing of gum with Drew, no stack of sweets sitting on the counter. Oh, how Papa loved to heap junk food onto my kids! Katie, a"Papa's girl" since day one, will not be able to climb all over his legs. He will not ask Gracie how school is going or tease Luke about all of the ladies in Webster Groves. There will be an emptiness in the room.
The usually happy house will be cloaked in sadness.
I will try to find the right words to say to my sweet mother in law, though I already know that no words will be the right words. I will wrap my arms around my husband for the first time since his hurried departure from us last Sunday morning. I will hug his siblings and try to take away just a little of their pain, though I know that I can't. I will continue to fight the lump in my throat that seems to have become a permanent fixture. My heart will break with the pain of watching my kids in pain.
I've stumbled my way through the past few days, not really feeling like I'm doing this very well. There's no guidebook for situations like these. I feel such sadness. Sadness for Paul and the years he was cheated that should have been full of hunting trips and time with his family. Sadness for Patti as she says goodbye to the man she's loved since she was in high school. Sadness for Ben and Bridget and Bryan as they cope with the loss of a loving father. Sadness for my kids. Oh, such sadness for my kids. I hate to see them in pain and they are hurting fiercely right now. I want to take it away, but I can't. As my sister said earlier today, this is a life lesson that no child should have to learn.
Along with this overwhelming sadness I feel for my family, I mourn for the loss of my father in law. He was a good man and I loved him. I learned many years ago that underneath his sometimes- gruff exterior, he was really just a big softie- especially when it came to his grandkids! He was incredibly generous. He was thoughtful. He was the kind of father that truly would offer you the shirt off of his back if you mentioned that yours had a hole. A few months ago, for example, I wrote on this blog about how the dishwasher was broken and Ben was out of town. After reading it, Paul- who had just finished a round of chemo- called my cell phone and offered to drive down to fix the dishwasher. Paul and I did not talk on the phone often, but when he did call with a question, he always began the call with "I don't mean to bother you, but...." and ended the call with "I love you." He made me feel that he was proud of me as the mother of his grandkids. I am sure he did not agree with all of my parenting choices, but outwardly he was nothing but supportive and complimentary. He made us all feel safe and protected and loved.
I will miss you, Paul, for the role you played in my life. I thank you for being such a loving father to Ben and for loving Gracie, Luke, Drew, and Katie as you did. How blessed they were to have had you for their papa.
As I have done hundreds of times before, I will pull into that familiar steep driveway on Ravina Park Road and park my car next to Paul's truck. I will walk into the kitchen and expect to hear the same warm and loving welcome he always had for us, but tomorrow he will not be there. His chair at the kitchen table will be empty. There will be no rowdy Python hugs for my kids, no light-hearted exchange of insults with Luke, no sharing of gum with Drew, no stack of sweets sitting on the counter. Oh, how Papa loved to heap junk food onto my kids! Katie, a"Papa's girl" since day one, will not be able to climb all over his legs. He will not ask Gracie how school is going or tease Luke about all of the ladies in Webster Groves. There will be an emptiness in the room.
The usually happy house will be cloaked in sadness.
I will try to find the right words to say to my sweet mother in law, though I already know that no words will be the right words. I will wrap my arms around my husband for the first time since his hurried departure from us last Sunday morning. I will hug his siblings and try to take away just a little of their pain, though I know that I can't. I will continue to fight the lump in my throat that seems to have become a permanent fixture. My heart will break with the pain of watching my kids in pain.
I've stumbled my way through the past few days, not really feeling like I'm doing this very well. There's no guidebook for situations like these. I feel such sadness. Sadness for Paul and the years he was cheated that should have been full of hunting trips and time with his family. Sadness for Patti as she says goodbye to the man she's loved since she was in high school. Sadness for Ben and Bridget and Bryan as they cope with the loss of a loving father. Sadness for my kids. Oh, such sadness for my kids. I hate to see them in pain and they are hurting fiercely right now. I want to take it away, but I can't. As my sister said earlier today, this is a life lesson that no child should have to learn.
Along with this overwhelming sadness I feel for my family, I mourn for the loss of my father in law. He was a good man and I loved him. I learned many years ago that underneath his sometimes- gruff exterior, he was really just a big softie- especially when it came to his grandkids! He was incredibly generous. He was thoughtful. He was the kind of father that truly would offer you the shirt off of his back if you mentioned that yours had a hole. A few months ago, for example, I wrote on this blog about how the dishwasher was broken and Ben was out of town. After reading it, Paul- who had just finished a round of chemo- called my cell phone and offered to drive down to fix the dishwasher. Paul and I did not talk on the phone often, but when he did call with a question, he always began the call with "I don't mean to bother you, but...." and ended the call with "I love you." He made me feel that he was proud of me as the mother of his grandkids. I am sure he did not agree with all of my parenting choices, but outwardly he was nothing but supportive and complimentary. He made us all feel safe and protected and loved.
I will miss you, Paul, for the role you played in my life. I thank you for being such a loving father to Ben and for loving Gracie, Luke, Drew, and Katie as you did. How blessed they were to have had you for their papa.
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