BDKM

It's amazing that time can be absorbed; days so fluid that they run together almost uninterrupted. It becomes difficult to distinguish one day from the other. We roll along, carry on and flow through life, comforted by it's rhythm.

It's equally amazing how time can be suspended.  That one single day can feel like it stretches into eternity; so endless it almost consumes every day before it.  It feels like a million days packed into one.  That day is somehow marked, distinct and significantly different from every other.

Sometimes those two elements collide and create a whirlwind.  That's really how it's felt since my FIL passed away unexpectedly last week.

I can't imagine how it feels to lose a parent. I pray to God that I won't find out for a very, veeeery long time.  I know it's hard. I've watched my husband work through this, helpless to provide any real comfort.  No one can really understand someone else's grief.  It's as unique as a fingerprint; formed from experience and history and the complications of relationships.

My husband grew up in an almost vagabond lifestyle. In extreme poverty, his parents frequently changed jobs. They moved their family every year, sometimes more, into whatever accommodations they could afford (including living in a boxcar).  Most the time, the living room was his "bedroom" - he slept on the couch and his clothes were kept in a basket. He was expected to contribute as soon as he was old enough, which meant beginning odd jobs while he was still in elementary school. 

He reacted to this environment by making it a priority to escape poverty and the struggles that go with it. Every decision in his life has been centered on creating a secure future. Nothing in his life is without thought, planning, or purpose.  One of the reasons I found him so attractive was that he represented to me security and stability - he was strong and solid.

It's such a profoundly different life than his Dad's -  the man who left this world with two fishing poles, a gun and $43 dollars. That's it, that was everything he had. Everything. And that was all he wanted. As long as he could sit on the porch and smoke a cigarette, life was good.

And yet, as different as they were, the most important things my husband learned were taught by his father. To be kind, unselfish, forgiving, patient, and helpful.  To be a good person and live an upright life.

That's something my FIL did well.  Something he taught his son to do well. 

So thank you, BDKM, for teaching your son the important things in life.  You are loved and will be missed but your spirit will be carried forever in those lessons.