30 years ago today, my dad died of cancer. I cannot put into words how dizzyingly mind-boggling this fact is to my mom, my sister, and me. It's not fair that we've lived much more of our lives without him than we had with him (my sister gets credit for that thought). And the last two years we had with him he was battling the cancer.
I was eight years old when he died. I can still remember the physical discomfort of it… the feeling of weights pulling on my stomach and heart. That feeling stayed with me for years afterwards. I was pretty introverted as a child (even when I pretended not to be). I always felt different than other kids; I was different than most kids, and I was trying to come to terms with that throughout childhood and adolescence. My father's death was just another issue added to my already tumultuous growing pains. Some days were unbearably, nauseatingly dark.
I could have wallowed in those dark places. I could have let my situation be an excuse to give up and quit trying (and those thoughts crossed my mind many times).
But I didn't.
I kept trying. I kept getting up every day along with the sun (hehehe…later than the sun, but I got up) and giving it a go. Eventually, it got easier. It got better. Life was more than worth it. I decided to quit dwelling on the fact that my dad was gone. Of course it was unfair and horrible and unimaginable. But it WAS. God and/or the universe "allowed" my dad to die very young or however you want to label it or look at it. I'll be the first to admit that I spent too much time dwelling on it, but I quit. There were plenty of blessings in my world to keep dwelling on. My mom had the strength, humor, and will of two parents. She never ceased to amaze me. My sister was as "big sister" as they come, but she was also my rock and my common sense compass (and still is). I have an extended family support system and friends that grow and astound me to this day.
Most importantly, I realized I had a lot to offer this world. I could sing and write. I could be kind and generous to a fault. I was FUNNY. I'm not a big talker, but when I say something, it's usually worth hearing.
I've been reminded of all of this over the past several days. A former coworker of mine lost her husband to cancer. They have two young daughters. My heart breaks for them. A friend of mine from college lost her father just this week unexpectedly, and I cannot imagine how that feels to have your world snatched from under you in an instant.
This world can be a devastatingly dark place. Life can knock you down and kick you repeatedly. In my lifetime, we have seen atrocities in our nation and beyond: tsunamis, bombings, shootings, and so on. We can chose to live in the shadow of those dark places, or we can live in the light. Light shines all around us. Even better, we can create the light and be the light. That remains my life's goal, and I plan to keep it that way until my last breath.
I still have sad moments, and I'm glad I do. That means I haven't forgotten my father, and he still matters to me. What I wouldn't give to have a cup of coffee with his 69-year old self. What I wouldn't give to know what he thinks of me and my life and my strengths and flaws. This year at my Turtle Creek Chorale Christmas concerts, we sold poinsettia ornaments to honor our memorialize loved ones. I bought one for my dad (his name was Roger Dale Weeks by the way). I wish he could have seen one of our shows. I'm sure he sees them in his own way, but that's another blog post.
The point I'm trying to make with all of my rambling is that it DOES get better. It gets much easier, and the joy of living returns. At least it has for me. 30 years later, and I'm a happy, thriving 38-year old man. Light is all around.
Sometimes you just have to crawl out of the shadows and find beauty in this world. Or create it yourself.
