In the absence of wisdom

Loss never really ends, you know?  I mean, if you lose something or someone significant in your life there will always be surprising, unexpected moments when that empty space suddenly becomes a gaping cavern again.  You will heal, you will making meaning of your losses, you will find ways to live again, but the absence of what was will still find its way into the reality of what is.

Today, I miss my Dad.  Really, really miss my Dad.

Last night I went to bed feeling as though I wanted to cry but couldn't.  I had no idea why.  I don't really care all that much about the election.  I choose not to invest myself in politics to the degree that I misplace my proper allegiance.  God is first in my life.  I place my trust and my salvation in God, not mere mortals who have happened to attain messiah-like status.  I refuse to enter into a world where we treat the opinions of celebrities as gospel and journalists act as campaign managers.  I do care about my country and its policies.  I believe government can be a force for good.  I just don't believe it is the ultimate force for good, or even the most effective one.

So why have I felt tears hovering so close to the surface for the last 24 hours?

Because I miss my Dad.  

There was no one in my world who understood politics and government better than my father.  He was slow to offer his opinion, never one to jump on a soapbox, but if you asked, and he told you... you couldn't help but listen.

There was a time when I was very young when many people were trying to convince my father to run for the state legislature.  I don't know what position they were encouraging him to run for, I was too young to know the difference.  What I remember was it being discussed between my parents and my Dad's smile when he told us that he decided not to because it would mean too much time away from his family and leaving behind the company he loved.  I never heard it mentioned again.

Instead my father invested his time and his resources into his community, candidates he believed in, and causes he cared about.  He also read- voraciously.  He subscribed to at least four major news magazines (I think there may have been more), and read multiple newspapers. And unlike most of us, he did not seek out only those publications that supported his particular political bent.  He thrived on reading both sides of every issue at all times.  He was one of the only people I have ever known who could watch Cspan with interest and enjoyment.  He knew the name and party of every single senator (I mean it, every single one), and a startling number of the congressmen and women.  

Today there is a lump in my throat and tears rolling down my cheeks because I desperately want to hear what my Dad would say.  I want to know his opinion, his predictions, his sage advice.  I want to hear him sum it all up in 3-4 sentences as only he was able to do.  I want to pick the vast knowledge of his sponge-like brain and at the same time hear him laugh again, because he always knew how to laugh.

My father was no optimist.  Nor was he pessimist.  He was at all times a realist.  I could use some help right now figuring out what is real.

But because this is the month for counting our blessings, I will do my best to turn this sorrow on its head.  Today I am thankful that I had 35 years to learn from and be nurtured by such a giant of a man.  I am thankful my Dad got to know my husband and my husband got to know him (what kindred spirits they were!)  I am thankful my Dad got to meet all of my children and that somehow they will all carry a piece of him into the future.  I am thankful for the impact my Dad had on so many lives and the ways his quiet generosity lives on in us all.

I am thankful for my Dad, even as I miss him so.