My Aunt Peachie told me in e-mail yesterday that my Dad wrote her letter telling her how much he misses my mom. There are depths to this grief that I feel like I will never discover. My father is simply amazing. Of course he writes a letter. He is so romantic. And so smart. And I'm reminded of how much he is suffering and how little I can do for him. When I see him, especially with people, I feel like he is fine. He talked at Easter about some trips he'll be taking with his buddies to car shows and other events this summer. I'm so proud of him. I love him so much.
When she was dying, she called for him a lot. Every time she was moved, touched, disturbed in the smallest way, she called out "Stephan, Stephan!". As soon as he came she was calm. He would cry when we touched her, when we had to bring the commode over so she could pee and he helped me get her onto it. His face, the tears, the pain he was feeling, seeing her like this. He didn't know how to handle her. And she moaned and her breathing was heavy and she was disoriented and she kept saying "I can't, I can't". And he couldn't either.
I am so blessed. I am so honored to have witnessed my parents living their marriage vows. It excites me to begin living mine.
More on this later, as my fiance just got home and needs a quiet, calm ear to listen to him.
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