Patch New Milford, NJ --To those of us whose father's have passed, Father's Day can be a day of sadness mixed with recalled joy. It is a day when their conspicuous absence is ever present. A day that leaves us feeling partially or wholly orphaned from those around us who have not yet experienced this loss and cannot understand its significance.
My father was not taken from me suddenly and without warning. His was a lingering death where the sickness drained from his body the strength that had come to define his life; a strength that neither his heart nor his mind were willing to relinquish.
Knowing that the days before him were shorter than those that lay behind him, my father filled the space of our time together giving me advice on how to live my life. Daily I sat beside his hospital bed -- he tethered to an oxygen tube, I tethered to his words -- as he told me all of the things he felt important that I know before he left this earth. And always, mid-sentence he would stop and ask, "Are you listening?"
And always I would say 'yes,' because more than his death, I feared forgetting the sound of his voice.
One day, as his voice began to fail him, as he came ever closer to leaving me, he wanted me to write down his final instructions on how to live my life.
"My voice will not always be with you," he said as if reading my mind. "But I want these words to remain with you always. These are my instructions for your life. When life gets you down, and you can't figure it out, when you need to run into the arms of your dear old dad, you'll always find me in these words."
I wrote the words he spoke softly to me. Words that I have been carrying with me for over 20 years. They are my ballast, my compass, my comfort. Everytime I need to escape the pressure of being everything to everyone--when I just need to be his daughter--I fall into the comfortable embrace of his words and from them, always regain my strength.
Envision what it is that you want, never stray from that course and live your way towards that life that is out there waiting for you.
If along the way you fail, fail spectacularly so that even in your darkest moments people will want to be you because you are fearless and courageous.
Compromise when and where you have to, but never at the expense of losing yourself.
Listen always and you will bring comfort without saying a word.
Remember--feeling anything is better than going through life feeling nothing. Being pained means that you are alive.
Bring peace always and be guided by the compass of your heart.
Never fear the unknown--that's where all possibility resides.
If you find yourself on the difficult road don't be resentful -- be thankful--it's a much more interesting journey.
If you arrive at the end of your life without any bruises or baggage, you've done something wrong.
Never forget that you are my daughter and in that find your comfort and your strength.
And when we meet on the other side, together we'll toast to a life well lived.
Those are his words. Words I will someday pass onto my children, who I hope in turn will pass onto theirs, and in that way keep my father as presesnt in their lives as he will always be in mine.
On this Father's Day, in the words of my dear old Irish dad, here’s a toast to your own departed father:
May the roads rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, the rain fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again -- may there be a generous bartender waiting to serve all us heathens in heaven.
Thomas Francis Meyers, I hardly knew ye. Reported by Patch 18 hours ago.