Yesterday morning the call came. It’s time.
My mom jumped from bed and raced to the hospital. My sister was already there. And then, Gary being Gary, he stayed.
Perhaps he still had unfinished business. Perhaps there were people he wanted to see one more time. Whatever the reason, all day long friends and family came in a stream, sharing stories, saying goodbye. He held on through all of it, through every voice and every hand and every story told at the side of his bed.
I called and said one last goodbye. I was sad not to be there in person, sad not to have one last hug. But I knew that Gary knew how much I loved him, because I always told him. And I knew I was loved, because he always told me. There was nothing left unsaid between us, nothing except the one thing none of us can help: I wish you didn’t have to go.
At two in the afternoon the doctor said it would be within two hours. And still he stayed.
More people came. More stories were shared. Photos passed around of a long life and all its adventures: a soapbox derby, a safari in Africa, panning for gold in the Yukon. A young beat cop. A grandfather teaching his granddaughter to read. A cafe in Paris, the two of us together. So many adventures, and all the ordinary days in between, some good, some bad, all of it life. A life well lived. In every photo, a vibrant smile and the echo of a laugh, a joke just told or about to be.
All day we prayed. Friends near and far prayed for a peaceful passing. At midnight I went to bed. At four in the morning, the call came.
My mom and my sister were by his side. His last breath was so quiet they did not even hear it.
Two things can be true.
You can be broken. A heart that was whole just one minute before, cracked open the second you hear the news. And you can be, not happy, not sad, not relieved, but some mixture of all of those feelings that does not have a name. Happy for a life well lived. Happy that you had him for so many years. Happy that he is no longer suffering. And sad, because you are broken. Sad for the things he will never be a part of now, the milestones and the ordinary Tuesdays, except in the way you will carry him forward, telling him in your heart and in your mind, the way we do with everyone we love who goes ahead of us.
We never want our people to go. We never want them to suffer. We wish we could be together forever. Sadly, that is not the way life is.
What I know is this: he was loved, and he knew it. He is, I have to believe, exactly where he always belonged, reunited with everyone who went before him, his parents, his friends, his grandson, his pups. Whole. At peace. Home.
Thank you for the prayers and the kindness. This community has always felt like a room full of friends, and today I am grateful for every one of you.
Before I go, I want to say thank you. Yesterday I wrote from a raw and tender place and you showed up in the most beautiful way. Sharon, who read it first thing in the morning. Bobbie, sitting with birdsong and coffee and tears for a man she never knew. Nanci, who told me that thirty-six years later she still says “I wish I could ask her that,” which is both the hardest and the most comforting thing I have heard. Katherine, who is carrying her own loss this week and still found words for mine. Ellen, who was sitting in a hospital with her husband when she wrote to me, asking for prayers herself, and I am asking all of you to pray for her too. Jeannine, who brought Maya Angelou to the table. Rita, who said Gary was blessed to have our family, which undid me completely.
To all of you who left a comment, and to everyone who read and did not comment but held us in your hearts: thank you. This is why I write. This right here.
“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
— Queen Elizabeth II
I’ve been on the road and missed your posting so please accept a hug and a prayer from me. Whenever someone says “I’m sorry” when hearing of any loss of my loved ones, I always say “No, any thought of him brings a smile to my face.” May your memories be only smiles.
Sincerely sorry for your loss and touched by the beautiful words you wrote to share it. Take care.
“Joy is the fruit of well lived grief”
So so sorry Elizabeth; my thoughts are with you. xoxo
My heart is heavy for you across the miles and despite the fact that I don’t know you personally. This is a universal experience we can all share in, and I wish you and your family the best as you walk through the days and years ahead when your stepdad will be missed but not forgotten.
I understand so much of your words- they are palpable to me.
May his memory, always, be a blesssing to you and yours.
I am so sorry for the loss to your family. Your words are so beautiful and tell the story of a man who loved well and was well loved. May you find peace.
He is gone but he is not. Gary is woven into the fabric of who you are and those threads will keep you strong. It is funny how arrivals and departures have a way of bringing us together. My deepest condolences to you and your loved ones at his most difficult of times.
That quote by Queen Elizabeth is so true and we wouldn’t have it any other way. He has had his Homecoming….which one day we too will have. Bless all of you on this side of the shore until you meet him again. Part of him is still alive in all of you who he loved. Tears and hugs.
He was quite the man. So sorry for your loss.
I am so sorry for your loss, Elizabeth. Sending my deepest sympathies to you and your family.
Dear Elizabeth,
As I was reading your thoughts tears were flowing down my cheek. You are an expressive, deep thoughtful writer with the best feeling heart. I’ve always been attracted to friends like you. They are few and far between. I’m blessed to have three in my life. I consider you are my KIND of blog friend that has depth to her heart.
Gary is resting in Peace, and is with Guardian Angels now and he could not have asked for more loving family and friends surrounding him as he was completing his circle of life. Gary heard your voice on the phone and felt your love.
Gary left footprints on your heart and that will stay with you forever.
I also LOVE “Grief is the price we pay for love.” -Queen Elizabeth This is one of my very favorite
messages that Queen Elizabeth II shared.
I’m not there to wrap my arms around you, just please feel them in some way over this message.
I seriously feel your loss and sadness at this time. I will go and light my candle for Gary and the family so he knows I care.
Your friend in Arizona
So sorry for your loss. How blessed we are in life to have people to love who love us in return. That is what life is all about. Prayers for you and your family.
Elizabeth, you are in my prayers. I hope they will help you through your grief. I want to go like Gary did. Surrounded by his family and friends sharing their memories and stories of a life well lived. To know how loved he is and to have such a peaceful passing. How very blessed he was. I hope you can find comfort knowing he is the hands of God who loves him even more than you all do. My husband, Tim, is doing very well after having 2 stents put in. We are so blessed to have so many family and friends who prayed for him, including you. I have a hard time praying when I’m stressed and it’s so nice to know that we are being covered in prayer. I am honored to be included in your blog group of friends. God bless you.
Thinking of you Elizabeth, and your family in these tender moments of heartache. I will never be able to adequately say what’s in my soul, I just know that each of us has a circle of love surrounding us, and I hope you feel the comfort of all who feel your loss.
My deepest condolences Elizabeth and to your family, especially your mum. May happy memories give you all comfort. keeping you in my prayers.
Rita, thank you. I will be doing all that I can for my mom.
Sending Peace and Love to you and your family.
Leanne, thank you.
Condolences to you and your family. “A life well lived.” That is the best conclusion, that one’s time on this earth wasn’t wasted.
Lynda, thank you. Your kinds words and condolences are so appreciated. A life well lived is the best life. Something I hope that we can all say at the end.
Elizabeth, I just happened upon this post. I didn’t see yesterdays.
I am so so sorry you have lost your stepdad. I am so sorry you are broken-hearted. Your post was just beautiful and I know he is somewhere looking down on you and yours. He will always be with you, and now you are one of the keepers of his memory. So far – job well done.
Cheers to Gary and hugs to you.
I am so sorry for your loss in Gary’s passing. He sounds like a great guy and will surely be missed. The greater the love the greater the grief.
In your post about holding joy and grief at the same time, my dad went on hospice the week before my daughter’s wedding. Then he passed a week after her wedding. It was bittersweet in that we had a joyful occasion to celebrate in the midst of our sorrow. You can hold both at once in my experience.
In the days and years ahead, I trust your wonderful memories with Gary can bring you comfort.
Jill, that cannot have been easy in any way. So much joy for your daughter but as the same time saddness for your father.
I am so blessed to have had Gary for a step-father, I have so many happy memories and stories in my heart and mind.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Have a lovely week.
Love and grief are both beautiful and so very hard. I’ve been thinking about you and continue to pray for you as you navigate this terrible loss. God Bless.