From Joy to Sorrow
My last Rumination dealt with time passing. Nostalgia. And regrettable, yet inevitable, lost connections. I didn’t know what was coming next. We never do, do we?
My husband and I had planned a river cruise down the Danube from Budapest to Regensburg to celebrate our 33rd anniversary, culminating in a visit to see my father in Germany. The trip was two weeks out. We were thrilled and planned for weeks ahead. Jay was looking forward to meeting him. Since I rang my father’s doorbell in 2016, I have been making several trips a year, with extended stays in the lovely town he lives in near Frankfurt. Jay stayed home to take care of our business and pets. Papa and I spent our days together, chatting, walking around the parks in his lovely town, and getting to know each other. His family graciously opened their hearts to me, this daughter that had been missing for 60 years and had never been expected to deal with. He was, after all, closing in on 90. A shock and surprise for everyone, but he loved introducing me as “my daughter from America.” The story is a long one. Let’s say that I had finally closed the hole in my heart, able to let go of the anger and rejection I had carried for life. A kind, loving man who had been shoved out of my life at infancy welcomed me with wide open arms.
On March 5th, at 1:40 in the afternoon I received a text from his son that our father had died 20 minutes earlier. He took a fall at the end of last year, cracked three ribs and tore his spleen, causing a bleed. He was able to go home a few weeks later, the bleeding stopped. But issues kept popping up as they are likely to do in a 97-year-old. Eventually fluid built up around his heart and he went back in hospital, a drain was inserted and everything looked as if he could go home in a week or so. No one expected him to have a hemorrhagic stroke during the night. Due to his age and the severity of the bleed, it was decided to let him go peacefully. He had had a full and rewarding life, able to live fully and enthusiastically well into his 90’s. It was time.
So instead of a reunion, we attended a funeral. His kind wife held services until we got there, on the 28th of March. The service was lovely. And incredibly sad. The non-denominational pastor talked about my father’s full life. The procession to the star magnolia sapling to bury his urn at its base was solemn and surreal, family and friends in single file, black coats and head coverings against the unseasonal chill. As the urn was lowered into the hole, the wind whipped up a gathering of dark clouds. A deafening thunderclap directly overhead made us all jump. Then the skies opened, the rain poured down and turned into hail. And stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The sun came out.
Of course this was a last goodbye. After getting our attention, my dear Papa was telling us to be strong and carry on.
And it is a reminder, once again that time is short and the people we love may not be here–this next month, week, or even hour. Please let them know how much they mean to you. Always be kind. I am so grateful that I spent much time with him, that I let him know how much I care, regardless of the past and the unknown future.
For those who want to read my published story of discovering him, here is the link to my website: https://maddielock.com/finding-walter/
This picture was given to me by Anni, my father’s wife of 65 years. It perfectly shows his intelligence and humor. I appreciate it beyond words.
