Grief Articles

Discovering Dad
© Kelly Huckaby
All materials copyrighted

The room was packed. They started arriving at four in the evening and within the hour a line of people spanned the length of the room. Besides those seated, and those in line, many milled around, talking in whispers—some smiled, some chuckled; all had red-rimmed eyes. They kept coming, right up until seven that night.

Who were all these people? Some of them were vaguely familiar. I had to reach into the far corners of my mind to retrieve their faces from my childhood. Distant relatives, changed in shape and size by the years, came to pay their respects to my grandparents, and to my dad’s widow. Stories and memories came from their lips; hugs from their arms. I hardly knew Dad, so the stories and memories were welcomed.

Dad’s cousin, Carol, helped me piece together the relationships between some of the people that day. Although Dad was an only-child, Carol was one of nine children. Many of these family members had gathered in a fashion similar to this almost 18 years earlier when Carol’s brother, Jerry, died. Dad and Jerry had been best-friends as well as cousins.

Months later I would learn how Dad turned to Jerry and his wife, Tana, when his marriage to my mom crumbled. He had no idea my mom was unhappy. Within two years Jerry was dead from Leukemia. Dad was there to take care of Tana and her three daughters over the next year. Then he told Tana it was time she started to date again, and he made sure he was her first date. They married shortly thereafter.

I recognized a group of men who were UPS drivers, like my dad. They looked like Mafia in their black, three-piece suits with Teamster tie-tacks and lapel pins. They spoke of company picnics and working with Dad. He was real good at horseshoes, and always wore his seatbelt on the job.

Some faces I’d never seen before. People from his route wanted to pay their respects. The news of his work-related motor-vehicle death at the age of 52 came to them from another driver who delivered their packages from that fateful day. Dad had always had a smile for them, and they missed it already. Dad didn’t know a stranger. He had touched so many lives.

I mourned over the grandfather my children would never know, this man I was just getting to know myself. There’s still much I don’t know, but God comforts me with little bits of information year after year as I learn about my dad’s life, and it all started with his death.

About The Author:
Kelly Huckaby is The HOMEWriter, a freelance writer and web designer. She may be reached at The HomeWriter.com

* This article was written for the readers of Good Mourning Lord. If you'd like to share this article with someone, you may print one copy for personal use only or give that person a link to this website. Please do not publish it elsewhere. Thank you.