You're The Best Thing About Me

Our loved ones may have passed, but they haven't disappeared

The night was filled with joyful energy. Four little girls watched as Daddy and Mommy put the final touches on a twinkly, colorful Christmas tree. Strategically placed on a table to keep little fingers at bay, our tiny tree was festively decorated for the holiday season. Then came a new family tradition: placing a toy train under the tree!

My late husband Bob grew up in poverty, so spoiling our girls was a way he was able to recapture some of the missing pieces from his childhood. (Isn’t it like that for all of us?!) He had always wanted a toy train under the tree, so that weekend we took a trip north near Sacramento to buy him his first toy train. The picture in this article is of Bob and our second daughter designing the path for the tracks that evening. I’m not sure what sparkled more – the lights on the tree or the gleam in the big boy’s eyes.

My late husband adored fatherhood. One of the things that attracted me to him most was his love and loyalty to family. Some of his happiest moments were those spent playing with the girls. Truly, Bob was a fun-loving kid hidden inside a 6’7” professional man. He loved to make our family laugh and experience joy.

After he passed away, understandably, it was difficult to find joy. Joy was hidden for a long time as we navigated our way through a black hole of grief. Nothing seemed remotely happy. In fact, there was a time when happy felt abrasive and wrong. For quite a while I thought I’d never be capable of experiencing those emotions again. I’m thankful to say that grief changes over time and healing allowed for “happy,” and “joy” to be felt again, but differently.

It was amplified.

The littlest things, like the taste of a tart apple or the chittering of the eagles touched my heart with a depth of appreciation and awe much greater after he passed. So did joy. My daughters recovery from grief took awhile, too, and when they rebounded, part of the healing for our family was their laughter. It pierced through some of the dark clouds with rays of relief. And over time, Bob’s spirit of finding joy in play and laughter was able to come back to our family. My playfulness and humor manifested as a tribute to both Bob and the family we built, a parental mission I was dedicated to upholding. It has been one of the pillars of our survival and healing after his death. Bob’s essence has remained.

We Are The Sum Of Everyone We’ve Loved

Inside my home office rests an antique dresser that I inherited from my father. It has a glass overlay under which are photos of loved ones and heartfelt prayer cards. As a child, I was fascinated with this dresser because Dad kept pictures of each of his seven children there. On the top ledge stood a small wooden crucifix, a relic, and a statue of Saint Joseph. Prayer cards that my grandmother typed on her manual typewriter were lovingly preserved under the glass. A small bottle of Holy Water was companion to Dad’s shiny, black ceramic Navy box which held his cuff links, a black rosary, scapulars, and his military insignia. Inside the little pull drawers were tempting silver dollars. My father’s dresser was a treasure trove for my eyes.

Every morning as he was preparing to get ready for the day, Dad would stand in front of his dresser and say some prayers for all of us children. He was very intentional and mindful in his conversation with God. No day was so busy that Dad couldn’t take time to ask our Heavenly Father to watch over us all. This special time was a top priority in my father’s faith life.

This special dresser now belongs to me. It’s a daily reminder of the power of intentional prayer. On it rests new photos of loved ones and items that are dear to my heart. I find myself gravitating to Dad’s dresser to ritualize prayer and spend mindful moments asking God the Father’s presence to be felt in the lives of all of us. This is part of my father’s legacy, living on in me.

During your grief reflection, take some time to think about how your deceased loved ones are carried on. What are the values, the acts of kindness that you now bring forward? Their lives were highly significant, and their legacy continues in how we conduct our lives with love and compassion. Our loved ones live on in us.