Lessons from My Dad.

On Valentines Day, I'll be remembering my dad's life, as it will be one year since he died.

'Died' seems so cold.  So far removed.  And I guess that's exactly what death is.

Death is so final, except it's not.

{It's not.}

My dad died alone, in more ways than one.  It's something I will always feel sad about.  His life was gone in a single breath without an ounce of warning.  At least people with fatal illnesses have family surrounding them when they go from this life to the next.

Not my dad.  He was alone, and nobody knows what happened in his final hours on this earth.

Well, no one, except Someone.

I suppose that while fatal illness brings some families together, mental illness divides and isolates.

It wasn't all bad, though.  I'm choosing to remember the good.  Sometimes even forcing myself.

I read a quote recently that said "Someone I love once gave me a box full of darkness.  It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift."

His life is worth remembering.  I have to believe that there was a purpose in the good, and the bad.  It's made me who I am, yes.  But it can't just be for me.  There has to be more purpose than just shaping me.  What that purpose is, I don't know.  So I'll just share.

For the rest of this month, I'm going to document the good.  For me.  For my dad.  For my family.  For future generations.  Maybe even for you.

It's taken me a year to get here.  Join me.

One Thing I Know For Sure: This, too, is a gift.