Ageless Passions by Karen Putz

Tag: death

  • A Sign From My Dad: Focus on What Really Matters

    I was having a grumpy day, letting a lot of little things get on my nerves. My desk was piled up with a bunch of paperwork that had no place to go. In frustration, I started cleaning out a file cabinet filled with early intervention papers that needed to be shredded.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a card that was wedged in the metal frame of the cabinet and I dug it out.

    It was a thank you note from my dad.

    Four years ago on this day, Dad was in a coma and no longer responsive. He passed away the next day. Since his death, he has always sent me signs that he’s near. This one made me smile and cry at the same time.

    Dad didn’t make it to his 90th birthday party–and he would have been 90 this year. I think it’s a lesson for all of us–to focus on what really matters and to enjoy the time we have each day.

    Thanks for the lesson, Dad.

     

     

  • Grief Out of Nowhere

    It has been a long, cold, drawn-out spring in Chicago, so when  a beautiful, warm day arrived, I decided to run walk on the prairie path in Naperville.  I didn’t get very far with running– there was a heaviness inside that I couldn’t shake.  I slowed to a walk and soaked in the beauty around me.  I tried to figure out why I was feeling so weighed down.  I recognized that heaviness– it was the familiar feeling of stress.  So many changes had occurred in such a short time.  The countless trips to Michigan and the loss of my dad.  The change from full time employment to part time.  The additional projects I had taken on.

    Out of nowhere, I started to cry.  At first, I didn’t even know why I was crying.  I was thankful for sunglasses and the mostly deserted path.  I struggled to sort out the jumble of thoughts that were racing through my mind.  The one that stood out was this:  I missed my dad.  I hadn’t slowed down enough in the last several weeks to allow myself to feel the loss.

    A bird landed right in front of the path I was walking.  When I saw the bird, I started to laugh.  It was a red-winged blackbird.  Because you see, up in Michigan, we had a red-winged blackbird that used to dive toward Dad’s head whenever he was out in the yard near the shore.  And in all of my years in Illinois, I had never noticed a red-winged blackbird around me.

    I dried the tears and started to run again.