I'm still his Father...

I see you in everything beautiful. Since you have been gone, whenever the beauty of the world touches me, I think of you.

            I’m currently on a short trip to see my parents, and my daughter, Abby, came with me. It’s going to be a fun daddy/daughter trip that will include a trip to the “Happiest Place on Earth” It’s a nice chance for just her and I to get away and spend some time together. We have always been close, and have gotten even closer since her brother died 4.5 years ago. Abby’s 12, and we like each other, we love each other, and we respect each other. It breaks my heart that she lost her brother, but she has done nothing but made me proud of the young lady she is becoming.

            Tonight I sat on the beach and watched the sun slip into the Gulf of Mexico. Abby played in the surf and seagulls flew overhead. As this all happened, and the beauty of one of my favorite places filled my soul, I could not stop thinking of David. I recognized that   moments like this, when everything in the world seems right, and the beauty of being alive is in everything I see, feel and smell, I always think of David. And then it dawned on me; my feelings of loss over David have become a touchstone of love and beauty in my life.

I miss him at moments like this more than any others. The thoughts of how I wish he were here to see this, and how we should have had so many more moments like this to share invade my mind. Tears inevitably fill my eyes. But they aren’t the same painful tears as they once were. They are tears of love and appreciation for what I have today, what I had with him, and oddly enough what I still have with him. “Love never dies.” This is a line many people who have lost loved ones use to reassure themselves that life moves forward. Today I realized that I am starting to understand them in an entirely different way. My love for David has not died. In some ways it has even grown. It fills all the good things I experience in my life. There is a melancholy, but there is also the warmth of the love we shared in every sunset, every beautiful flower, every triumph Abby has in her life. Yes, he is missing these wonderful things, but in a strange way he is not, because he is in my heart. I see his smile. I hear his laugh. And though I will forever be sad that I can no longer hold him, I am reminded of our love and life together.

Sunday is Father’s Day, and though my boy will not be here to give me a card, or offer to wash my car, he will be present. He’s in my heart, and at the front of my soul. As Abby and I walk around Disney this Sunday, I will see rides we once rode, and remember times we had there in the past. Abby and I will share stories of when we were here with David, and we will laugh, and though he will not be there, he WILL BE THERE.

As I was packing to leave on this trip, I pulled a bag from the bottom of the closet, and there, lying on the ground, was his old light-up sword that he bought on a trip to Disney many years ago. When we moved 2 years ago, the sword had mysteriously lit up when we arrived in our new home, even though it had been broken and not worked for a couple of years. Even though I don’t believe in that kind of thing, we have always jokingly thought it was some kind of sign from him that the move was a good thing. When I came across the sword before we left, I paused, and waited for the sword to light up. Of course it did not, but the idea it might, the idea that David was with us was very real. And that is because he is with us. He was with Abby and I on the beach tonight. He is in every hug she and I share. He is in every triumph I have in my life.

On father’s day I will celebrate being the father of two wonderful children. Abby and I will laugh and share good times, and in every one of those moments, David still resides. To all you fathers out there who have lost a child, I tell you this, “You are still a father.” You will always be a father. For some this day will bring great heartache, and I too will share some of that. But as time moves forward, I chose to cling to all the good things. I cling to the love that is still alive. And I cling to how even today my son shapes who I am and what I do. I just wish that on this Father’s Day he could be here so we could share something fun a father and son should share, a hug, or kiss, or maybe a good fart joke.

Miss you Pal. Everyday. Thanks for making me a Dad, and for giving me love that never dies.

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About the Author
Bart Sumner's book, HEALING IMPROV: A JOURNEY THOUGH GRIEF TO LAUGHTER is available in the Grief Toolbox Marketplace. He is the founder & President of HEALING IMPROV, a nonprofit charity in Grand Rapids, Michigan that provides no cost Comedy Improv Grief Workshops to people struggling with finding the road forward. He lost his 10 y/o son David in 2009 to a sudden accident. He is an actor and writer who writes the blog MY STORIES FROM THE GRIEF JOURNEY at the website for Healing-Improv.org
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