Death, beauty, and life

On this day four years ago, I stood next to a bed, holding my father’s hand, telling him I loved him, and watching him take his last breath.

I have written before about the death of both my parents, but as life moves forward, so does the way death speaks into my life.

So much died on December 5, 2014. I lost my last living parent. I lost my last direct connection to the past. I lost the man I lived with and cared for the last year of his life.

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time with my dad. As a self-employed photographer, my dad was often able to take me with him to work during my childhood. We would have lunch together, and when situations allowed, I would watch my dad do photography or videography.

As I grew older, our relationship changed. We disussed politics and religion, sometimes with disagreement and almost always with passion. I walked alongside my dad as we faced the death of my mom, his wife. We spent the last years of his life moving into deeper discussions about life and death.

All of that was gone. With one final breath, the door closed on any more joking, talking, debating, and competing. A big part of my life died that chilly Friday morning.

But I have also found beauty in death. The beauty of my dad no longer suffering. The beauty of him finally experiencing the peace he desired for so long.

Another beauty emerged from death. The beauty of life…for me.

My dad had a strong personality. Over these last four years I have come to see ways his personality limited my growth in certain aspects of my life. This has been a difficult truth to admit at times, but one I have come to embrace.

I miss my dad often. There are times I want to tell him something. There are questions I want to ask him. There are words unspoken we will never share.

But from the ashes of my father’s death, new growth has emerged. His death freed me and nudged me to face things I would have likely left hidden. It enabled me to experience a level of God’s grace and mercy previously unknown to me.

I realize every person’s story is different. Death strikes each individual in a unique way. There is no template for grief, no list to follow. Yes, there are stages of grief, but they come to each of us in distinct and different ways.

For me, death has revealed beauty never before realized and life beyond what I had the capacity to see even a few years ago.

I miss you, Dad. There are conversations I want to have that will never happen. But I find beauty in the peace you have found and the peace that I am discovering as well.