I am sincerely grateful and humbled by all the comments on my post from one week ago, entitled “My Father.” (Click the link to view). The encouragement and love that inspired that post sustained me through a very difficult and painful transition in my life. I am grateful to all of you who read the post and especially those who left a message. There are no words to express the appreciation and comfort that I felt simply in knowing that others were sharing in my own pain.
Pop’s funeral was on Thursday, November 15, 2018. The service was according to the liturgical customs of the Greek Orthodox Church, a ritual that my father firmly believed and that I was baptized into shortly after my birth.
I no longer adhere to the Greek Orthodox faith as a belief system but being a first generation son of immigrant parents, I do subscribe to the community as a means of bonding with my culture and with our broader heritage and tradition. There is some comfort found in the rituals and familiarity with the liturgy.
Aaron (my spouse) and I returned home the day after the funeral. He needed to return for his job as a nursing supervisor at our local hospital. I return to my class schedule today.
I’m not pretending that my father didn’t die. I know that it is all too real. However, I do know that death is a part of life.
I am feeling sad at this moment but also happy that I have many memories that Pop and I shared together, most recently, that we shared with Aaron. It is a small consolation but worth its weight in gold.