“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
loves leaves a memory no one can steal.”
– from an Irish headstone
Today is my father’s birthday. He passed away in January 2013 at the age of 83. The above photo is him holding my hand a few weeks before his death. During our family Christmas gathering in 2012, I wheeled him into my office to show him the post I’d written in his honor, telling his family’s story. Titled “Perspective: December 8, 1941” and featuring photos and drawings from his childhood in a Japanese prison camp in the Philippines, I couldn’t get through reading his story without crying.
He reached out and took my hand. I cried even more.
When this photo was taken by Tiffany, I didn’t know we would lose him 28 days later, so this photo is precious to me. Although he was under hospice care, he seemed to be doing quite well considering.
And, even though more than a year has passed since his death, whenever I think of him, my eyes well up with tears and my heart fills with a heaviness so deep it physically hurts. Watching a loved take his last breath and die leaves an indelible mark on your soul.
How long do you grieve the loss of a loved one? I’m quite certain it’s different for everyone and I imagine that most never fully stop grieving. Especially when birthdays and holidays are near.
My father wanted to be cremated and buried at sea. On a crystal clear cool winter day in America’s finest city, family and friends gathered at the Cabrillo National State Park in San Diego. As we assembled at the top of Pt. Loma, the minister conducted a heartfelt service and the four of us, his children, spoke in turn as his favorite symphony, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, played on my nephew’s iPod.
An Air Force color guard, from the closest Air Force Base 90 miles away, played taps on a bugle and handed my mother a flag. No one was dry-eyed.
My mother, siblings and I drove down the mountain to the harbor and boarded a sailboat that took us out to sea while the rest of our family and friends remained behind, watching from the Juan Cabrillo Monument at the top of Pt. Loma. It was perfect – exactly as my father would have wanted.
These are photos from that day…
Military Honor Guard folding the flag…
Presenting the flag to my mother…
Family and friends gathered…
My cousin, Mike…
My brother, Glenn, and my mother, Jo onboard the sailboat…
My father’s ashes, a flag and roses on the sailboat…
The sailboat captain raising the flag…
The sailboat, with all of us onboard, heading out to sea…
Military helicopters fly overhead…
The tip of Pt. Loma…
The sailboat’s flag at half-mast…
Dad’s ashes and roses scattered at sea…
Heading back to the harbor…
Memorial collage made by one of my nieces: top photo is memorial to Dad on the kitchen table at my father’s celebration of life after the service.
Dad – circa 1985.
Happy Birthday, Dad. We all miss you so much, but we know you are flying up there with the angels.
Many thanks to various family members who shared these photos with me.
Until Next Time,
Related Posts:
(other posts about my father)
Great post. I thought about dad all day on the 25th. I told him “Happy Birthday” in heaven.
Love you!
Thanks, Dawn. Love you, too.
As always thanks for sharing your memories. All I know is the good memories start to heal the hurt and you can smile on these precious days.
Thanks, Chris. I appreciate your kind words.
Thank you for sharing. Love to you and Charlie.
Thanks, Anna, for sharing some of your photos from that day. Love to you and Mike.
Thank you for sharing your sweet memories, the good and the sad.
Thanks for dropping by. I appreciate your thoughtful comment.