Leaving a Legacy

The pain from losses in our lives magnifies at special times throughout the year, and Father's Day is quickly approaching. I lost my dad in 2016, but it feels like yesterday I was holding his hand and saying The Lord's Prayer an hour before he passed.   

Through my training in grief and trauma response, I learned there is no rule as to how long to grieve and, most importantly, not to stuff my feelings or hold in the tears when something reminds me of him … a song (like Honky Tonk music), a smell, a movie, etc.  Instead of traversing the grief journey alone, I call a friend or family member and share memories, or, my favorite… write about it. These actions won't erase the grief, but they will help me navigate through that moment of sadness. (I call it a grief ambush).  During one of those grief ambushes,  I wrote about something special that happened after his death. That memory not only brought a smile but provided a life lesson: 

One of the most difficult things to do after a loved one passes is to take care of their financial affairs. My father was meticulous in record-keeping and planning, which alleviated some of the stress—all files were clearly marked along with contacts in the event of his death. Although grateful for his organization, going through each file felt like an invasion of privacy. 

All but one account was handled by telephone, which helped keep my emotions in check … then I walked into his bank and sat down with one of the account representatives. When I handed him my father's death certificate, he sighed heavily and said, "Harold was one of our favorite customers." He left his desk to retrieve some paperwork, and the manager walked in with a coin and a mismarked dollar bill. "Your father gave me this a few months ago, and I have it displayed on my desk. He always brought in tokens of appreciation, including boxes of Aplets and Cotlets. He made our day every time he came in; he will be missed." I lost it. The tears flowed as I pictured him grinning while handing out his treasures.   

Many others shared the same sentiments, from doctor's offices to the donut shop to his pedicure place—even people he met on his daily walks in our neighborhood. People I had never met came to our door offering condolences and said they enjoyed visiting with him, hearing about his life adventures, and appreciating the candy he always brought along to share.  

Shannon Alder once said, "Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they tell about you." What a remarkable legacy my dad left…one of selflessness, kindness, and love. And a memory that brings my smile back and has me imagining that when he entered Heaven, God smiled and said, "Well done, good and faithful servant."