It's in There

There have been many lessons I have learned and continue to learn since the passing of my father. I experience sadness and joy, pain and bliss, and people with their own agenda and those who reach out. This Christmas has been difficult as I am a girl that does not like change. We had decided to stay busy this year, make 3 family visits in Florida and wake up Christmas morning at my mom's house.



To make another long story short, Jason broke his ankle Wednesday, December 18th playing basketball and will need surgery Tuesday, December 23. Needless to say, our Christmas plans have changed and we will be home.



I just wanted Christmas to feel like "Christmas". I wanted to feel joy and the magic of Christmas and know that it exists even without my father. I was so sad. We had no tree and I feared we would put Teague to bed, after looking for Rudolf's nose, and just look at each other. I have had many people ask what they could do and offer their help if needed. I really am so fortunate to have so much more than many others and decided that this year would just be difficult emotionally and allow my spirit to heal.



This morning, my friend Donna arrived at the house with another co-worker and delivered an 11 foot pre-lit Christmas tree. There are no words. They just swooped in, put the tree together, plugged it in, and left. They wanted nothing but to give. They wanted to give me a "normal" Christmas. I didn't have to ask, or hint, they just knew. They saw my heart, slapped on a band aid, and left. Teague immediately began taking the ornaments he made in school and hung them on the tree. He clinched his hands at his chest in joy and admiration of his work. For the next couple of hours I stood in awe at their love. This tree is no more beautiful than any other, but to me it is perfection. It is a representation of Christmas.



I kept telling myself it's not about a tree or presents, and it's not. It's about the people you love and living your live in a way that regularly shows the ones you love that you love them. This world is filled with sadness, and hatred, and greed. I get that. It is also full of compassion, and generosity, and love. It's all in there, we just have to be ready and open enough to see it.



My Christmas could be filled with sorrow and heart break. I could choose to focus on what everyone else has or what I wish things were like, but why. Our lives are equally filled with a balance of all that exists in the world. What is the secret in the sauce? What's the secret in the noodles? There is no secret! It's all in there. Just be willing to see it. Open your eyes to all this world has to offer, because focusing on all we wish we could change, doesn't allow us to see what is right before us. There is balance, it's in there...and we got a Christmas tree!

As Time Passes

It has now been one month. One month since I woke up knowing it was the day I would loose my father. One month since I went to the funeral home to see what Daddy had planned. One month since Jason and I "borrowed" mums from front porches for Daddy's funeral. One month since I held my Daddy's hand. One month since I sat with family telling stories of all my Daddy did, and lived through. One month since the world stopped turning...yet it didn't.

One month ago I stood by my father's side and told him he had done everything right. One month ago I held his hand until he took his last breath. It has been one month and time continues to move. I somehow thought that without my father my world would be empty, or wrong somehow. I have learned, as time passes, that everything my father ever gave me still exists. I have learned that the love I have for him just grows and grows each day. I have learned that each day still holds wonder, and joy, and sadness all in the same space.

I have learned so much in the past month about peace. I had lived for so many years in the fear of loosing my father. Daddy was my everything. He was the one who gave me wings and held in his own sadness as I took flight. Daddy only wanted the best for me and did all he could to make sure I was happy, and fulfilled, and supported. I have learned that all of that only grows. What Daddy has given me would be wrapped in brown paper bags, probably smell of smoke, and involve super glue, but it's all just as amazing on the inside.

I have learned that the gifts I've been given are bigger than life and even death. I have learned that unconditional love can't be explained or demonstrated, only felt and passed on. I somehow thought that once Daddy passed, I would no longer feel our relationship or that I would somehow feel a piece missing. I know now that our relationship transcends time and space and when he left, I remained whole.

I miss his phone calls after 9 pm. I miss being able to call him and share my excitement, frustration, and sadness, and I miss hearing his voice. But, I don't wish for what no longer is. I don't wish for my father as he was, and I don't long for the past or the future. I remain in this moment, bask in the love that he showed and taught me, and am thankful to have been his daughter.

As time passes, I know each day will be different, but I know that the love I have for my father will only grow and become richer and more majestic than it is today, or tomorrow, or the tomorrow after that.

The Enormity of Love

My father's passing has brought many emotions, however I never dreamed that love would rise to the top.

Daddy had always been my biggest advocate and even if it meant that he would somehow struggle, he wanted the absolute best for me. I was always first. My needs, wants, hopes, dreams, and heart's desire came first.

Daddy and I freely expressed our love, for as long as I can remember, and it is that which carries me. I spoke to a friend on the way to the airport as I rushed to be by my father's side, and she asked if there was anything I wanted to say to him. I couldn't believe there was nothing. I of course, wanted to tell him that I loved him as many times as I could, and that he had done everything right, but even if I didn't get that chance I knew he knew. As I stood by my daddy there were no words. All I could do was love him. It is such a wonderful feeling to know the enormity of his love and know that if I had two more minutes, hours, days or decades, there would be no more words to express our love. I am blessed to know this feeling.

After Daddy passed, I spent considerable time in his house, and found such treasures. My dad valued the little things that strangers would have thrown out. I found hand written recipes that were from my great grandmother, The Great One we called her. There were cards I had mailed over the years just to tell my father how much I loved him. I found pictures I had colored as a child, notes I had written, and the hospital bracelet from when I was born. Locked in a briefcase were no insurance papers, no money, nothing of monetary value...but a card from his parents and grand parents from when he was confirmed.

Daddy saved and treasured what mattered most. Daddy held on to love from family and friends. To Daddy, people mattered. The things you said and did mattered. When I look at his life I know I mattered. He told me with his words, showed me with his actions, and cherished when I did the same. Really, what else is there?

I am moved, embraced, and lifted by the enormity of his love.

God's Hand

I don't claim to know everything about the unseen and understand that faith is precisely that, however I know that God has looked out for me in all of the events that have taken place and would like to begin there in my story. I too want to note that there are so many things that I have seen looking back that I am sure I will not do them all justice.

My daddy, Ron Johnson, passed away Saturday, October 11, 2008. It has been the most difficult time in my life, however at the same time it has not been nearly as horrible as I had dreamed. God's hand has been on this for years beyond my comprehension and it is all beginning to unravel.

Next weekend is the Breast Cancer 3Day that I walk each year for my mother. I became ill in May and decided at that point I would not walk. For months it has been difficult for me. I now see the perfection. The weekend of Columbus day I had made various plans to use the long weekend, each fell through. I now know why. My father had gone into the hospital for a heart test. While there, he had an allergic reaction and needed to stay. His passing was not related directly to his hospitalization. Had he not been in the hospital, this could have been much, much worse. Being there, allowed him to be placed on a ventilator and allowed me to be by his side. To my father, people, family, was most important. In his passing, I have found such peace in knowing that we had such a rare relationship of freely spoken love. October 10, of 1997 I had written my daddy a letter from college to tell him just how much I loved him. It was a heartfelt note of gratitude and recognition of his love for me. I found that note in his wallet. It was written exactly 11 years to the date that I flew out to be by his side.

There are so many ways that God has prepared my heart and readied me for this day in ways I never wanted for myself. God is taking care of me, and my daddy.

Here Goes

I have done a great deal of noticing lately. I had no idea how the quiet moments were so alive and contained such joy. These quiet moments, they actually occur with a great deal of external noise in my experience, but the internal noise becomes secondary. I have learned in the stillness of my own self, to see Teague's joy. To listen to him sing at the top of his lungs is something I want to hold forever. He just sings and sings with no reservation about the incorrect words or lack of tune. He experiences and exudes such joy from moment to moment. He dances just to see his own reflection and to express the joy he can no longer hold inside. He pleases himself. When he wants you to pay attention, he says, "Yook at me." If only we could all do that and not risk looking or feeling silly. Teague is truly loving and notices the pink flowers on the side of the road. He says he is sorry when he is wrong. He gives hugs and kisses freely, and delights in putting on his own socks. I have learned from my baby boy, at the age of 3, that he is doing it right. He lives in the stillness of his own mind. He fully experiences each moment, not worrying about the next or the last. He twirls and falls to the ground, he sings the wrong words, loudly, with joy, he dances without a care if anyone sees. He shares his love, he sees beauty, he is my greatest love. I am so thankful for him and all that he teaches me about living life in the stillness.