Do you follow me?

Fifteen years ago, my father took his last breath as I held him in my arms. My mom, sister and I were taking turns sitting with him, and I was on watch the morning he died. I remember the air changing around us, dad’s breathing intensifying, and him moving for the first time in days to reach for something in the distance. With my arms around him, I prayed, shared words of gratitude and comfort, and then he was gone.

My dad was a storyteller and would check to see if you were tracking with him by asking, “Do you follow me?” I still cling to things my dad taught me through his stories although some of the greatest lessons came from the most painful parts of our journey together. Dad never owned a cell phone or flew in a plane and didn't drive many places other than to work. I stayed connected to him by calling him at the cab office, a place he served as a dispatcher for many years. I can still rattle off the two numbers I used to reach him there. Wherever I was – studying abroad in Germany or Greece, living in Washington D.C., Denver, or Seattle – I knew I could reach him in between customers stopping by to chat. I was as close as someone could be to my father, and yet he kept his distance. I longed for what I saw others had in their relationships with their dads, and still, I miss mine.

When I first saw the movie, A River Runs Through It, tears streamed down my face when I heard these words written by Norman Maclean, “And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them – we can love completely without complete understanding.” I loved my dad with my whole heart. So many times, I’ve wanted to call him at those numbers I can still rattle off. To share that the Cubs finally won the World Series, that I discovered we now live near where his grandparents were married in Minneapolis or that I think of him every time we drive through La Crosse.

What I know is that we can long for and grieve those we lose even when our time together wasn’t perfect. We don’t need permission from anyone to feel our grief. We get to feel whatever we feel for those we have lost even when they are still living. Do you follow me?

With tenderness,
Holly