I recently said goodbye to my father.
Dad was 81 years old. He died while in the hospital. There were numerous contributing factors, but Covid was the culprit that first got him admitted to a room on the top floor of med-surg. He remained a bedridden patient for two-and-a-half months after his recovery from Covid, mainly due to diminished strength and the need for antibiotics to fight an internal infection. Diabetes and dementia complicated his health issues.
We were lucky to celebrate Dad's 81st birthday with him in the hospital, blessed that day to find him in good spirits and mentally aware. We brought him his favorite carrot cake, read messages from his birthday cards, and presented him with a music box that played his favorite classic country songs. The opportunity to see him celebrate this birthday was a gift to us. Dad passed away in his sleep two weeks later.
I know that even in heartbreaking situations there are blessings to be recognized and appreciated. One of my dearest blessings is my husband—a kind, compassionate, and gentle man who concerns himself with my feelings. He did not disappoint on the day my mom phoned to deliver the news that Dad had passed through the veil into Heaven.
We were away from home when the call came. Shortly afterwards, we found ourselves inside a large Buc-ee's gas station. There were snacks, drinks, sandwiches, souvenirs, clothing, and a variety of other items to purchase inside. While I was looking for something to drink, my sweet husband wandered off and then returned with a small, stuffed teddy bear in his arms. It was called a Gifting Bear, and it had one ear sewn from a different material than the rest of its furry body. This corduroy ear was unique for a reason specified in the instructions that came with the bear.
"Whenever you need a little comfort, a little safe, a little brave, just whisper in my ear and hold me tight. I'll be here for you."
A week plus has passed since my dad's funeral. It was such a turbulent day, I found it impossible to grieve. Following the funeral, days were spent accepting visitors, seeing family off to the airport, filling out necessary paperwork, getting finances in order, etc. It was not until my recent return home that I found a few quiet hours alone and sat down to fully comprehend the realness of my dad's passing.
That soft, furry teddy bear was in the room with me and had already become a symbol of my dad. So, I took it in my arms and spoke into its little corduroy ear, and with tears, I whispered everything I wanted to say to my father. I felt the shawl of grief that had been denied me at the funeral, but I also felt the most tender reassurance that my words were heard and appreciated.
Someday, I too will pass through the veil and step into Heaven to be reunited with my dad again, along with other loving family members who preceded me in death. Until then, my little Gifting Bear sits on my writing desk and allows me to whisper to him whenever I need comfort or safe or brave. That is exactly what my dad used to give me on bad days. I miss him.
