I took the day, I wanted to blog, I wanted to keep my promise, but there were reasons to step aside yesterday. You see I started the blog twice, but both times the computer froze up and I determined that something or someone wanted me to wait. So I did...and here I am.
Telling my girls that someone we cared about had died; absolutely on the top ten list of the hardest things I have ever done and wish to God I never had to do again. Their grief was real and consuming as only young children can feel. Seeing their dad devastated, watching their mom trying to not break down as I gave them the news only fueled their sadness, their fear, their anxiety. I understand the grief. "Uncle" Bok was incredibly kind to them, as he was to everyone. He was a gentleman and the friend you knew would move heaven and earth to help you...that's who he was. His loss reminds me of how my brother helped me understand Jurassic Park when I started reading it, and "Chaos Theory". A ripple of butterfly wings causing a tsunami on the other side of the world. Only now, the ripple happened on the other side of the world and the news has crashed in like that tsunami and rather than go away again, it keeps bombarding. You get a moment to catch your breath if you are lucky and then it hits all over again. Eric has been busy with messages and phone calls trying to support those that are struggling the most, trying to come to terms with the news himself. I am trying to come to terms as well, and somehow make sure none of my ducklings fall between the cracks and grieve in silence. Yes, I just referred to Eric as one of my ducklings too. This is a hard habit to break, I actually had to stop myself from speaking for him at the doctor's office this morning. I am so used to talking to a doctor about Bradley, though lately Sydney has had her fair share...geesh, Madison...yeah, I have to stop and think about it when they ask her birthday because Bradley's comes to mind first, Eric's second, then Sydney's and then Madison's. Haha...yeah real funny running through roll call of birthdays to get to mine. People look at me like I have two heads or am missing my "love me, hug me" jacket...sometimes I think they are right. Especially at the same doctor's appointment that had Eric saying something ridiculous that got me giggling and put me straight into my five year old humor stage. As I told him: "Great, takes me 5 seconds to hit five year old mode and then like two hours to get out of it! Thanks" Good grief!
Anyway, my kids are reacting as most kids do. They are tragically shocked and saddened by the loss of someone they knew, someone they saw not too long ago during a wonderful event. But even as they are sad, they are also quietly grateful that it was not mom or dad. With Dad having just come out of the Heart Catheter Lab, I know where their powerful brains jumped, and I know that there was as much grief as guilt. Relief that they didn't lose Dad, equates to guilt. Loss is suddenly real and very close to them in a way it hasn't been before. Sydney wrote about Mr. Bok in a journal she has started, Madison puts it away deep inside until she can handle it and then she probably will write about it too. And now I am writing about it because my heart hurts, my grief is still fresh, and somehow I have to come to terms with the loss.
After the girls went to bed last night, I went in to check on them...they were quietly crying in bed. So I sat with them and we talked about life and death, heaven and why...always the why. Always the answer of "I just don't know." Always feeling the inadequacy of that statement. I wish I had answers, instead I admit to them that I have no answers, but that I do have Faith. I hope by relying on mine I can bolster theirs, definitely not an easy task ahead. They have had more control today, Sydney did not sleep well and looked pale and tired this morning. But seeing mom and dad holding it together a little better has helped them return to the routine of their day, even if their thoughts were elsewhere.
As for me, today I understood why we go to funerals. I wasn't sure how many I was going to be willing to continue to go to...all those people crying, making me cry. Who signs up for that? And I realized that I do. Funerals are not for the dead, they are a last chance to be together with everyone that loved that person too (well, let's hope love is the motivator...anything else is just beyond painful). It's okay to cry and to support that person who is crying by sitting with them and helping them cry. Just as they are helping you. It's cathartic. It's real. All the drama and daily nonsense, it slips away as you hold those you love close and support the loss, the pain and the sorrow.
That was not available for Bok. We lost him in July and only learned word of his passing on Monday night. So long, seeing the requests on his Facebook page as people are trying to get him to respond, wondering why he isn't answering...hoping that on the other side of the world, he is busy seeing the world and enjoying his life... It makes me feel like we let him down, by not knowing. And there are questions that need answered, but the answers are silenced by time and distance. And the worst, there is no gathering to say good-bye, there is no offer of closure, only that which each person can create on their own. And there is this: Bradley is too young to understand. He will not remember "Uncle" Bok, except in some pictures...cognitively...even then I am not sure. But we will work on things like that. And there is my own guilt, my guy is still here, with me, raising these three kids. But I am also profoundly grateful that Bok was a part of Eric's life for sixteen years. Because I believe that standing next to someone who was such an incredible example of the best that humanity has to offer rubs off on you and changes you a little for the better. We were all changed a little for the better by knowing Bok Oh, and today...we all know that our world is quite a bit dimmer for knowing that he no longer makes the sun shine a little brighter in our lives. He was just a man, but he was a very, very good man.
Saying goodbye is never easy. Not having a direction to say it, just means we lift our eyes and hearts to heaven and hope that he is listening as he is being mourned right now. There is a saying in the Navy: "It's a small Navy." Paths cross. Lots of Navy brothers and sisters knew Bok Oh, and lots of them had better lives because he touched theirs.
One moment at a time, whether it is trying to breath or stop the tears...whatever it is...keep moving slowly forward in the hopes somehow the pain will ease and the love that Bok showed in his life will reach out to comfort those of us left behind...someday...
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