I've been pensive this week. A week intended to be days of cousin fun ended up being the week we buried Papa, the man who chose to be my Dad when he married my mom.
Our first night in Houston after getting the news, your GiGi brought over albums belonging to Papa's mom, and your Aunt Lindsay and I spent hours looking at photos chronicling Papa's life and creating a montage for his services.
Some of his childhood photos I'd seen, like this one that hung in my childhood homes.
Our first night in Houston after getting the news, your GiGi brought over albums belonging to Papa's mom, and your Aunt Lindsay and I spent hours looking at photos chronicling Papa's life and creating a montage for his services.
Some of his childhood photos I'd seen, like this one that hung in my childhood homes.
But others, like this one, were new to me. Your great-grandpa (leaning over Papa in this photo) looked so young!
Once we reached the family photos with us, of course I remembered most of them (and cringed at most of them, too).
But at least one I didn't remember.
Papa's passing has us all thinking. Your Aunt Lindsay and Uncle Brad spoke beautifully at his service, saying goodbye for now to their always Dad. But I wasn't sure what to say then. I wanted to support my family at a time of loss, but I did so quietly.
To say that my relationship with Papa was sometimes complicated would be an understatement. Even as adults, we didn't always see eye to eye. But what I can, and should, give Papa is that he stayed. Through times of conflict and misunderstanding, he was still Dad. And our relationship improved -- I want to acknowledge that progress. And I have special memories, too:
The time I nervously called home to announce changing my college major from electrical engineering to English, based on some notion of happiness, and he surprised me by supporting the decision immediately. He said my happiness mattered.
The time I came under professional fire for a curriculum element, and he fiercely defended me during the media frenzy.
The time I grieved a loss, when he offered encouraging words and told me he was proud when I found courage to try again.
Were those times like all of my memories with Papa? No -- but I'm beginning to think that our legacies are a combination of what we do, what we try to do, and what we would do differently.
So when I think over the last week and all my time with your Papa, this is what remains:
It's okay to believe some things firmly. The world is too wild to enter into lightly, without some notion of who you are and what you will champion.
Beliefs and behaviors can change. And sometimes letting go of the past is a kind of freedom.
Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness. Because love keeps no record of wrongs.
And family -- I'm reminded again of the importance of family. And I love our family.
To say that my relationship with Papa was sometimes complicated would be an understatement. Even as adults, we didn't always see eye to eye. But what I can, and should, give Papa is that he stayed. Through times of conflict and misunderstanding, he was still Dad. And our relationship improved -- I want to acknowledge that progress. And I have special memories, too:
The time I nervously called home to announce changing my college major from electrical engineering to English, based on some notion of happiness, and he surprised me by supporting the decision immediately. He said my happiness mattered.
The time I came under professional fire for a curriculum element, and he fiercely defended me during the media frenzy.
The time I grieved a loss, when he offered encouraging words and told me he was proud when I found courage to try again.
Were those times like all of my memories with Papa? No -- but I'm beginning to think that our legacies are a combination of what we do, what we try to do, and what we would do differently.
So when I think over the last week and all my time with your Papa, this is what remains:
It's okay to believe some things firmly. The world is too wild to enter into lightly, without some notion of who you are and what you will champion.
Beliefs and behaviors can change. And sometimes letting go of the past is a kind of freedom.
Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness. Because love keeps no record of wrongs.
And family -- I'm reminded again of the importance of family. And I love our family.
Overall, I can't help but be glad that after a decade of poor health, pain can not touch him, and I believe that he has been renewed in heaven.
And I'm glad, however briefly, that he got to know you. I'm sure you and your cousin brought him joy.
And that seems to bring us back to the old photo:
'Til next time, Love to my Lorelai
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