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I came across my father’s day planners while sorting through boxes of photographs and memorabilia. I found three: 1997, 1998 and 1999.
Other than the more detailed itinerary his secretary kept, my father just carried with him a small leather bound calendar book – each month laid out in small squares with only enough room to scratch the city he was in, his flight time, the name of people he was meeting or where he was speaking. Occasionally he added what the weather was like. There was not much room for more.
With his busy schedule, I am not sure how he survived with such sparse details. I suppose he called in to his office continually. But to see his life spread out like that – to see it in a month of squares with cities, names of friends and associates, and even to read of a nap he took in the sun half way through October – is strange. It makes it seem so fleeting – months of living crammed into a handful of squares.
And then the entries stopped – and all that is left is blank pages.
That is what is the strangest about sudden death. Life is going along at its usual pace. Plans are made – dates penciled in the future. All the days leading up to that last moment are packed with normal activities – no hint of an end, no slowing down. Even the last appointment he made it to before he died is written there. And then the squares start to become blank – with only notes of things planned. There are planes he didn’t catch. Events he never attended. And then eventually it all ends.
He died in December of ’98 and he already had his 1999 calendar started. The month of January was full of trips and meetings. February had its schedule roughly shaped. There was a vacation planned in April, a few other events for the spring and then nothing. I just kept flipping through the rest of the book – staring at months of empty pages.
My father didn’t keep a journal – at least not that I know of. He had authored a book and as a speaker he of course had scores of notes and thousands of sermons written and recorded. Our storage room walls are lined with videotapes of his interviews with the Christian authors and speakers of his day. But there are only these few jottings, these tiny calendars, that reveal the plans of his daily life and show where the hours so quickly went.
I remember him saying how he loved to keep his old calendars as records of the years and what he had done. Now looking through them, I wonder if he wished he had written down a bit more in them. I wonder if he imagined that I would be looking at them so soon. I know he never imagined it would all be over so abruptly.
The brevity of life is what my father’s early death has taught me. He was full of plans. He lived in the future (but sure enjoyed his naps in the sun.) He feared an early death – his father and uncles all died before they were 50 – but I don’t think he really thought he would die that young. He was 56 and had just begun to get a few grey hairs at his temple. I had noticed them less than a week before. He had not begun to slow down at all.
So now I don’t go a day now without realizing it might be my last. At 33 years old, I am past middle age if I were to die when he did. I know that I don’t have any guarantees. Life seems very short now.
Thumbing through the belongings of the deceased is bizarre. I almost feel like a ghost myself sitting amid boxes, surrounded by the past – a ghost from the future looking at what was, while knowing that I too will soon be part of the past. Will it be my son who picks through my memories, sorting out who I was? Will he find me and understand me? Will I have left enough for him?
It is time to go to bed now – again. The days keep coming and ending – the calendars keep being printed. So many people I knew are gone. And new little ones I am just getting to know are arriving. It is a strange circle – with sudden twists and turns. Tonight I feel like part of a misty fog, whirling around in blindness, not sure where I am coming or going.
My father died December 10, 1998 of a sudden brain aneurysm. He had just driven in from a trip and was at his desk in his office. My mother was at his side as he slipped from his chair and died in her arms.
jen says
This year I witnessed one of my best friends lose her dad suddenly. He had a heart attack. He too had many commitments (at church). My thoughts and prayers are with you
Erna says
What a well-written post and so moving. I can’t imagine all you feel as you leaf through those calendars. I would find it hard, I can’t even look at videos of Rachel from when I was in the hospital prior to Emily’s birth. I think I’d be a wreck but my parents don’t keep too much written about themselves. I have always hoped to have things written for my girls to know who I was if they ever lost me. I’ll keep blogging away (& saving my pages) so they’ll have some nuggets to remind them of our times together. Hugs to you in the midst of swirling emotions.
Aimee says
Thank you for sharing this. It’s so important to remember that the most important things in life are people. This is a timely message for the Christmas season since we tend to get wraped up in the “goodies” and stress.
So sorry for your loss, I am just glad that your mother was able to be there when he passed. What a blessing.
Barb says
This is so moving, Janice. I can imagine that reading his planners creates some strong emotions. Honestly, I don’t know if I could do it. I’ve always wondered if the kind of death my mother-in-law suffered, months of knowing she’d lost her battle with cancer and was dying, is better than a sudden death like your father’s, or the other way around. I suppose the answer is there’s no good way to lose a loved one. This is a sad time for a lot of people it seems. My mother-in-law died on December 3rd. My family makes a great effort to celebrate her life rather than dwell in sadness but we miss her so. I know you miss your father, too. I’m very sorry you lost him at such a young age.
Brandi says
I am sorry about your loss! I can relate as my father died when I was in middle school. It seems like forever ago, and then also just yesterday. Christmas is probably the hardest, and knowing that he won’t be there for my wedding or to see my nieces and nephews, or my own children.
So to answer some of your questions about my experience, that is part of it. After that my mom just kinda drifted away and now is a huge part of my life, but while growing up wasn’t there much. So I always felt like God was on the other side of the room watching me, not standing next to me being my friend. (hope that makes sense). I will talk more later, I just am confused on how to get your email. It didn’t work when I tried to send you one from the button…please send me a comment with a way to email you! I would love to talk more about this with you!
christieo says
Janice, you have such a wonderful way of expressing your thoughts and your posts are always so moving. This was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes! This must be terribly difficult for you and I hope you can find comfort in that many people are thinking about you and your family, even ones that you don’t really know here in the blogworld. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Barbara H. says
My heart goes out to you. My mom passed away suddenly one year ago today. She was 68, but it was still too soon.
amelia says
This was beautifully written and so moving. It’s never easy to lose a loved one, let alone when he is so full of life and it comes unexpectedly. Makes me want to blog and journal more. Thank you for sharing this.
Jenn says
Tears flow down my cheeks as I read your memories and your post…It’s amazingly touching, thank you for sharing with us – with me. I feel like no matter what age – most of the time it seems way to young. I feel that way about my grandpa – he was well into his 70’s but time goes by to fast, to quickly – with out a blink it can be gone.
I feel your pain, your sadness, I pray for you – and for him – that he is in a better place and that you find peace in loving him, and knowing that he’s happy.
Chris says
This was beautiful! Your Father would be so proud of you. Thanks for sharing something so personal with us. I will pray for you today.
Fun Playdates says
I am so sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, I am also not a stranger to loss.
My father died 2 weeks before our wedding…
And if that wasn’t hard enough, right after that, my brother died and was followed 4 WEEKS LATER by my brother-in-law (both in their early 40s and both quite the shocker to us all).
My mom died of breast cancer a few years ago. SHe was the rock who I thought would live to be 100, but it wasn’t meant to be. On my side of the family I just have my sister. That’s it. And she just picked up her family and moved to Florida!
From all my sadness, I QUICKLY learned an important life lesson of appreciating what you have and living each day to the fullest. It’s easy for us to slip away from remembering that in this busy world… but you do have to stop and smell the roses and just have FUN!
Adventures in Babywearing says
How touching- beautiful. I pray you feel peace today!
Fiddledeedee (It Coulda' Been Worse) says
Janice,
I know where your heart is. I lost my mom when she was 66. Too young. Very suddenly. I too was surrounded by all of the boxes, and 60 plus years of papers and memories. It’s overwhelming. I still have her checkbook. And sometimes look at her last entry. And the blank pages. Same with her calendar. And it’s awfully hard on the anniversary of her death. God bless you at this time.
Cheri says
Janice
What a beautiful post. Thank you so much for sharing. My grandmother has kept a daily journal for many years. I wonder where they will end up when it comes time for her to join our Lord in heaven… Hopefully they’ll end up in the hands of someone who cares enough to make sure everyone knows what a wonderful woman she is.
Dana says
oh Janice
this just stopped my heart–my father died December 13th, 1998, and I too am having a very hard time this week. I can’t do anything to ease your missing him–but know that I share your heartache.
Sarah (Mrs Blythe) says
This was so moving, thanks Janice!