Category Archives: grief and loss

Still Here

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Dad slipped away quietly one year ago today. And, oh, how I miss him.

I remember that day in vivid detail. The steady rain. The chill in the air. How I knew he’d passed when hospice’s number appeared on my phone screen. How I let it go to voicemail because I was taking our teen to school, and my mama heart knows when to delay hard moments.

I hesitated before calling because I knew that, after 12 days of incredibly gentle and beautiful hospice care, Dad was gone. Calling hospice would – and did – make it all real.

In that moment, I felt so many emotions. I remember feeling heavy loss and sadness, but also humbled that I would be the one to see Dad and stay with him until the funeral home arrived to help us with next steps. I remember answering the kind hospice worker’s questions, pausing ever so often to hug another staff member at the memory care home who came to say goodbye to Dad and offer condolences. I remember being comforted by staff and comforting them, too. How I stroked Dad’s snow-white hair one last time and kissed his forehead.

I miss Dad and will always miss him. Yet, I’m very, very aware that he’s also still here, with us.

He’s with me every time I cook his sweet potato pie. He’s in my kindergartener’s mischief, my teen’s mathematical graphing with perfect lines, my daughter’s creative expression. He’s in the work my sister does so beautifully on behalf of schoolkids each day. He’s in every single one of his grandchildren’s smiles.

We all had to let go of Dad’s physical presence with us. Yet, these moments remind me that he lives on in all of us. That he’s still here. And that, even in missing Dad, he’s really not far away at all.

xoxo

A Fond Farewell

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As 2024 peeks around the corner, the optimist in me hopes for a kinder, gentler year ahead. After all, this year arrived with its fair share of Goliath-sized mountains to climb. Only a few weeks into 2023, Dad passed away. COVID-19 flanked our family, making me so ill I missed his funeral. Friends and loved ones visited the hospital a lot this year, and some are no longer here to see 2023 end. And, when the autumn leaves began taking over our yard, a health concern found me lying on a biopsy table.

Yet, this year also brought mountaintops, blessed moments of rest and joy after navigating life’s ups and downs. Hubby and I celebrated our 25th anniversary. Our kiddos are healthy and holding their own, in and out of school. Gatherings found us surrounded by love and joy with family and friends. That health scare I had? Thank God, I’m A-okay. And just this week, Hallmark Mahogany featured my writing as a guest post.

As the youngins say, life be lifing. But, it’s still life. And, this year often reminded me that life is such an incredible gift. Understanding this is how Dad could genuinely say on Day 3 of hospice, “I’m blessed. We’re blessed.” He knew, and was forever grateful, that life itself is a blessing. And especially because he’s now flying high with Mom, I’m clinging to the wisdom in his words a little tighter as this year passes the baton to the next.

So, farewell, 2023. Even when it hurt, thank you for reminding me of how precious life is, each day. You made me climb some rugged mountains that brought me to my knees … and, you lifted me back up with mountaintop moments that brought greater peace, strength, and gratitude for God’s blessings in my life. Because of you, this is my warrior song* as I look to the new year ahead.

2024, you’ve got next.
xoxo

* I do not own the rights to this song. I just adore it.

Papa

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This time each year my heart takes a rollercoaster ride. We’re shaking off the busyness of summer. The kiddos go back to school and grow up some more on us. And our family celebrates at least 15 birthdays in September.

And this year’s heart rollercoaster ride is right on time. Our oldest is starting her third year of college; our middle is starting his third year of high school; and our youngest is starting kindergarten (first-time readers, that’s not a typo). I’ve smiled and laughed and shed my quiet mama tears as always, when I think of how much they’ve all grown and how blessed my hubby and I are as their parents.

This year’s ride is also different. While back-to-schooling, I usually would have planned something special to celebrate Dad’s birthday, too. Today would have meant simply being with him and enjoying colorful balloons, yummy cake, and lots of cards and gifts from loved ones near and far. Dad and I would have talked about the kids heading to school, inevitably sparking wonderful stories about how much he enjoyed his years as a teacher and principal.

My sis has often said that our parents were “little people people,” and she’s right. They marveled in the innocence and magic of children. Mom and Dad invested their lives not only in raising us, but also in positively impacting children they taught professionally, inspired at church, and loved in our extended family and community. And the grandkids? Spoiled generously by “Grammy and Papa Booker.” Dad would often tease me and my sis by saying, “If I knew grandkids were this much fun, I would have had THEM first, and then you girls.”

Children were such a joy to our parents. So, on what would have been Dad’s 93rd birthday today, it especially feels fitting to remember him wearing his Papa Booker hat with love. Here’s Dad in action, taking a break from his artwork to enjoy our youngest as a newborn. Volume up.

Happy heavenly birthday, Papa.
xo,
Karin