A lesson from death.
“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”
-Umberto Eco
Dad’s birthday (June 14th) and Father’s Day have fallen on the same week throughout my life. This was easy growing up because I ALWAYS combined his present into one. However, since his passing nine years ago, this time of year has become a mix of grief, gratitude and self-reflection.
You never really stop missing a parent once they’re gone. It doesn’t matter how much time passes.
When I was 19, Dad was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Only three months later, I held his hand in ICU as he took his last breath. While it was so painful, I can look back on our last night together with immense gratitude. It was the greatest lesson Dad ever taught me.
May 5th, 2015. Him and I sat for a few hours together on that last night. He was heavily sedated, but it was nice to see him off the breathing machine he had been on the previous few weeks. I still felt his presence even if he couldn’t communicate verbally or with body language. We had a final father to son conversation, even if it was just me doing the talking.
I had been fearful of losing him the whole night even though I knew what was coming. While the rest of my family went home, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone.
When the heart rate monitor began to noticeably decline, I knew we were at the end of our time together. I stopped resisting, squeezed his hand a bit tighter, and told him it was okay to let go. His three boys would be okay.
In that moment, something changed.
A presence of love, unlike anything I’d ever felt, was all that was there. I felt my dad and I loving each other so unconditionally, a love we always craved but previous roles simply got in the way of. It was the warmest embrace imaginable, as if we were being touched by God.
And as quick as the moment came, he took his last breath
Even though I felt empty and that he had been taken from us, there was a part of me that felt a deeper truth. My heart had been ripped open, but he was not truly gone. Even in death, the love we shared was still there.
While it was over nine years ago now, I am still not finished integrating this experience. I reflect on it regularly, still finding more lessons and wisdom to take from it. But over the years since, I’ve never felt closer to my dad despite his passing. He is always present.
We always symbolized his spirit with the bald eagle. On the day of my brothers wedding, two years after his death, we saved one open chair in the front row to honor him. Shortly before the ceremony began, we noticed a bald eagles nest in the tree directly overlooking us. In it sat a lone Eagle, present throughout the ceremony.
On that day, he was there with us. We all felt his presence. It was the first time I’d ever seen a bald eagle in person. Over the years, he’s came in the moments I’ve needed him most through various signs, synchronicities, and dreams.
His death showed me the eternal nature of life. Just as there is no true beginning, there is never really an ending. It begs the question of what comes first, birth or death? Are they one in the same?
In our culture, we have become so accustomed to avoiding our perceived mortality. This fear drives the majority of our unconscious behavior. Because we fear death, we fear to truly open our hearts to unconditional love because we think it’ll eventually be taken from us. We fear the inevitable grief that love will one day bring.
When we choose to open our hearts to the reality of death, we realize our love for one another can never truly die. It’s only the avoidance of death, a choice not to love, causing our pain and suffering. Accepting this truth can heal our world, but we need to have courage to face our biggest fear.
As Rumi said, “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Death will break your heart. You will mourn, you will hurt, but you will also heal. It’s in this healing that we learn the true nature of who we are. We are eternal, timeless souls having the privilege of embarking on this human experience. Let’s embrace this.
Choose the path of love, even when it hurts the most. Always come back to the question “what would love do now?” Let your heart lead and the brain can follow along later.
I don’t know if Dad meant to teach me this lesson, but he was the one who opened the door for me to explore it.
I love you, Dad. I’m forever living the dream and hopefully making you proud.
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