It is really hard to imagine that something that happened only six weeks ago feels so distant. I was reflecting on it today and all the things that came together ultimately would have been impossible even two weeks later, let alone today. The timing ended up being just right, and looking back at it I am incredibly grateful. It was a quiet and solemn weekend, but so special-it was when we laid my dad to rest.
The back story is a little bit unusual. My dad passed away a couple years ago and it was quite a surprise. We were all sort of trying to piece together what a funeral would look like and how it would work out. It did, but the final laying down of my dad’s ashes had to wait. Was my family going to choose the national cemetery? Were they going to stay close to home? Was home even going to be home anymore? It was a whirlwind.
Ultimately, my mom wanted to live closer to my sister for a little extra support. She chose to move to the other side of town, and the process took about a year. This decision was not taken lightly and it still left the resting place in limbo. It took a while to find the right place, the perfect place for my dad’s ashes to be interred. It actually turned out that the right place didn’t even exist until just a few months ago. When my mom and sister visited, they decided it was the right choice.
This is where that first weekend in March came in. We decided to share a very small ceremony as a family on Friday morning, so I flew out late Thursday night. It was the last flight of the night, so the airport felt eerily quiet. Who knew that it was only going to get quieter for the six weeks thereafter? The flight itself wasn’t full but we weren’t sardines, either. At that point a few cases of coronavirus had been reported nationwide, and there were some people using wipes and even a mask or two. Still, when I arrived in Phoenix the airport was packed, even a little before midnight.
Friday was a special day. The ceremony and lunch we had afterward couldn’t have been better. Four of my aunts and uncles were able to attend, which would almost certainly have not been the case today. My mom’s pastor said a few kind words, and we all shared memories together. The weekend was dedicated to each other. I would have loved to hang out with everyone for a few days, but I wasn’t really supposed to have the time off in the first place! I had a little over 48 hours, and I was going to share it with my family and reflect on my dad.
I was telling a fellow teacher friend over the phone yesterday that if my dad had still been alive, he would have been a great person to talk to during this whole pandemic. I think he would have offered a great perspective as someone who had been through both peace and war, and both joy and loss. We probably would have talked about the weather and the news, and probably a little about poker too. Okay, a lot about poker.
In the end, the way time works is just more than my brain can handle. I can’t believe it has been close to three whole years since he passed, and yet I can’t believe it has only been six weeks since I got on that plane to see my mom and sister and lay my dad to rest. Time flew by at a breakneck pace, and then suddenly everything just stopped. Now that we are moving in slow motion, I regret not taking more pictures. For that matter, I regret not slowing things down back years ago, when time flew by so quickly that I was too busy for some of those talks.
Then again, regret doesn’t do anyone any good. I think I will stop and smell the roses a little bit while I still have my time and my good health (neither of which are a guarantee). While I’m at it, I will take my sweet time and go back to a few great days in March.