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My father died this morning, after a fall, then a shortish time in a skilled nursing facility, a problem there, and a brief hospitalization, but at home. He was almost 102. For most of my life, we had an extremely difficult relationship, based on very scanty and irregular contact, but that’s not something I want to talk about right now. If ever. What is important to me is that while I was on a book tour some years ago, when he had quit driving but was able to get around otherwise, one stop was in the city where he lived. And I invited him to the reading/signing, and then had dinner with him and one of my half-sisters, who had driven him. I can only hope it gave him as much resolution and peace as it gives me now.
As we were not close, I have no idea how this will affect my writing. Obviously I can write a short blog entry. But I was impaired for almost a year after my mother died (of course I was also coping with a grief-stricken autistic kid at the time–and my mother and I were close.) And the length and depth of the strain between us was such that it may throw me for a loop despite/because of our not being close.
So things may be somewhat chaotic on the writing front for a time. At least this time I don’t have a contract with a hard deadline staring me in the face…I have time to work through things and get my head straight again before beginning another long work. My half-sisters will be making the arrangements for everything–they live much closer to where he lived than I do.
Comment by sharon beckers — April 11, 2014 @ 11:35 pm
I lost my adoptive parents, ten and eleven years ago. I didn’t like them much. Too many stories! But,.. God I miss some stuff!! Like good and bad cooking, and them not liking my life style, or my music! I like them know, because they did not know they made me stonger!
Comment by Fred — April 11, 2014 @ 11:40 pm
May God grant peace to the souls of all the departed, including your father, and may you know the presence of God in this time.
Comment by Nadine Barter Bowlus — April 11, 2014 @ 11:57 pm
Holding you in the Light.
Comment by sharon beckers — April 12, 2014 @ 12:04 am
sometimes a broken heart is an easy way to just give up. You are LOVED! pLEASE
Comment by pjm — April 12, 2014 @ 1:40 am
At this time make sure you surround yourself with people who love you. From me, virtual hugs. I will be praying for you.
Peter
Comment by Richard — April 12, 2014 @ 1:46 am
Deepest sympathy – to you, and to your half-sisters.
Comment by Annabel Smyth — April 12, 2014 @ 2:20 am
So sorry for your loss. You will have to work through your grieving, of course, but we, your fans and friends, week be supporting you while you do so with our love and prayers and virtual hugs and chocolate.
I sat up until – er – nearly time to get up last night, or rather this morning, reading SPORTING CHANCE.
Comment by Naomi — April 12, 2014 @ 2:46 am
Sorry for your loss, Elizabeth
Comment by Linda — April 12, 2014 @ 5:52 am
I’ll imagine you walking in a wilder areas of your ranch and finding healing in the presence of Alyanya.
Comment by GinnyW — April 12, 2014 @ 6:11 am
My sympathy for your loss, both the recent one and the long-standing one. I am glad you had some resolution during his life, and hope that the ceremonies bring more.
I do wonder about Arvid and his son(?).
Comment by Joyce — April 12, 2014 @ 6:13 am
My condolences for your loss. Take good care of yourself through these days. May you know the consolations of our merciful Father.
Comment by LarryP — April 12, 2014 @ 7:00 am
Condolences on your lost. My prayer is that the Lord keep up and uphold you in your time of lost.
Comment by Lise — April 12, 2014 @ 9:59 am
I’m so sorry for your loss. Take the rest you need and don’t worry about us. I’ll be praying for you.
Comment by Kathleen — April 12, 2014 @ 1:22 pm
Sorry for your loss.
Comment by Celina — April 12, 2014 @ 1:41 pm
May the Light be with you.
Comment by Jonathan Schor — April 12, 2014 @ 2:38 pm
Condolences.
Comment by Raielae — April 12, 2014 @ 2:38 pm
May you find grace in your grieving. Our prayers are with you.
Comment by Wickersham's Conscience — April 12, 2014 @ 2:53 pm
My sympathies and condolences, not just on his death but at a difficult relationship, not fully resolved, and now not to be resolved. But 102 is a fine old age.
One of my close friends died last month, a man with whom I shared my passion for fantasy and science fiction. To my chagrin, he had, all unknown to me, named me as his executor. I find myself responsible for 83,000 exquisitely preserved butterfly specimens, well over 10,000 books, well over 3,000 albums (CDs and vinyl) of classical music and quite a large house stuffed with stuff, and the boxes the stuff arrived in. So think a kind thought for your half-sisters, who are handling your father’s arrangements.
Comment by Ed Bunyan — April 12, 2014 @ 5:32 pm
My deepest condolences to you and your half-sisters. May he be at peace and you find peace and closure. Your needs come first, we can wait.
Comment by MaryElmore — April 12, 2014 @ 9:11 pm
God bless you and watch over you at this difficult time. I lost my father almost 61 years ago. Even though we were close (if you can be close to someone when you are 9 years old), I still miss him and weep for him. Take the consolation someone who had a father for so short a time.
Again God bless you. Your fans will take care of themselves. You take care of yourself.
Love.
Comment by Kathryn Flaherty — April 12, 2014 @ 11:12 pm
My deepest sympathy.
Comment by Susan Malcolm — April 12, 2014 @ 11:30 pm
I’m so very sorry, Elizabeth. You will be in my prayers, and may you feel the peace of God in the middle of your grieving.
Comment by Jan Hise — April 13, 2014 @ 8:45 am
Elizabeth, I am sorry for your loss…may time ease your sorrow and bring you peace.
Comment by Daniel Glover — April 13, 2014 @ 12:49 pm
Elizabeth,
My condolences and sympathy added to all those already expressed by this group.
Comment by Suburbanbanshee — April 13, 2014 @ 1:10 pm
I’m sorry for your loss.
Comment by Kerry aka Trouble — April 13, 2014 @ 2:40 pm
Condolences and virtual hugs.
Comment by GinnyW — April 14, 2014 @ 6:02 am
Wickersham’s Conscience: my condolences to you on the loss of your friend. Good luck with the butterfly collection, etc. It sounds like a time of sorting, but also a time of dealing with the human connections, and disconnections, that are so much a part of modern living.
Comment by Gareth — April 14, 2014 @ 7:35 am
Even when ‘expected’ deaths are always unexpected and can catch you in ways you really don’t understand. Look after yourself. Lost my dad a good few years ago but I still hear his voice.
Comment by Ellen McLean — April 14, 2014 @ 7:52 am
How are you progressing, Elizabeth? If you need to be overwhelmed with the fragrance of bluebonnets, please come wander the pastures over here.
Comment by sheepfarmer's granddaughter — April 14, 2014 @ 8:25 am
xxx
Comment by KarenH — April 14, 2014 @ 2:54 pm
My deepest sympathies for your loss.
Comment by John McDonald — April 14, 2014 @ 5:12 pm
I’m sorry for your loss.
Comment by Rob Bolger — April 14, 2014 @ 11:48 pm
So very sorry for your loss. Big hug and warm wishes to you.
Comment by Mette — April 15, 2014 @ 3:13 am
I am sorry for your loss. All the best.
Comment by ellen — April 15, 2014 @ 3:43 am
sorry for you loss, will keep you in our prayers.
Comment by ellen — April 15, 2014 @ 3:45 am
102! Wow.
Comment by Sherri Campbell — April 16, 2014 @ 10:17 am
Sympathy for your loss. Virtual hugs for you.
Comment by Karen — April 16, 2014 @ 10:57 am
I don’t have the words to express just how much I sad I am to hear of your loss. I just lost my grandmother (aged 100, so quite young comparatively, at least by the standards of eternity!), and the one thing it’s reinforced is my complete and utter rejection that death is part of “the circle of life.”
I don’t know what any of that conviction means in my own situation yet (Grandma and I had a deeply loving relationship that might have been complicated if I hadn’t had so many painful early relationships with my parents that made her love seem such a balm), but I already know that she will never be missing from my heart — as opposed to various other family members I have to deal with now that she’s gone….
Which is my way of saying that I hope that any future dealings with your dad’s family go well, that your grief is given full measure (which doesn’t always happen!) by the people who are equally bereaved, and that you can emerge from the experience of grief and the accompanying pain with your head held high and the absolute certainty of just how precious you are to people like me that you’ve never met (at least eyeball-to-eyeball).
Comment by Kathie G — April 16, 2014 @ 7:25 pm
Prayers going out for you and your extended family, Elizabeth.
My paternal grandmother (also an Elizabeth) died at the age of 101. Whereas my parents died too young — 63 and 73 respectively.
Comment by elizabeth — April 17, 2014 @ 7:48 pm
Thank you.
Comment by Katrina — April 18, 2014 @ 7:52 pm
I’m sorry for your loss. It is good that you got to have that meeting with him that gave you resolution and peace. I think that sometimes people end up more grief-stricken over the death of someone they weren’t close to but felt they should have been close to then over the death of someone who was close. Not being close sometimes leaves so much unresolved stuff that can never be resolved after the death and that can be hard for some people to deal with.
Comment by Genko — April 29, 2014 @ 2:16 pm
My condolences. I also had a difficult relationship with my father, and what came up for me when he died (after a couple of weeks of feeling numb) was rage, a rage that I had never let myself feel when he was alive. It shocked me, the depth of it. I watched it, gave it empathy and compassion, and eventually it softened. I honor the anger, and also honor the hope I have now that he has a better rebirth.
Be gentle with yourself — I’m glad you have more space to grieve properly, whatever that looks like for you now.
Comment by Sharidann — May 5, 2014 @ 12:55 am
Belated condoleances, I was away on a vacation and without Internet.
Even when the relationship is not a close one, death of a parent is always a hard time.
I still remember the passing of my father 21 years ago.
Comment by elizabeth — May 5, 2014 @ 8:25 pm
Thanks, Sharidann. There’s that feeling of being shoved to the front of the line, isn’t there?
Comment by Sharidann — May 8, 2014 @ 6:06 am
Exactly that, the death of one parent tends to make death more real for the surviving Generation. It is the natural order of course, but all of a sudden, the Abstract becomes real. Also, there is the fact that we can’t share and discuss and cherish any more. Only the memories… And the fact that we can’t say, one last time, sorry for some harsh words or simply I love you.
I actually got very emotional last year as I brought my firstborn (3 monthes old at the time) to the grave of his grandfather), simply because being in that place, with my son in my arms triggered a lot of memories. Particularly considering that my aunt and uncle told me that I was taking care of my son the same way my dad was taking care of me as a toddler.
Comment by elizabeth — May 8, 2014 @ 11:09 am
There’s always some unfinished business, if only the question you suddenly think of that now no one can answer. That never occurred to you before, but…
And also in the case of a difficult relationship, there’s no hope of further resolution and understanding. Whatever explanations were given are all you get (ranging from none to insulting.)