I’ve been a lifetime student of grief, death and dying.  I have written papers, read books. and given lectures on how a person of faith lives through the death of a loved one. I’ve held the hand of many people as they passed from this world to the other side of life.  Thirteen days after my father’s death and I finally must realize that I know nothing at all about grief.  Every sign post I thought I might pass or mile marker I would see on this journey has not appeared.  We had no warning about Dad’s death.  It was one phone call from my mother, as she laid in a hospital emergency room, telling me that he’d been air lifted to a bigger hospital for his injuries that turned our lives upside down.

The next twelve hours are crystal clear in my mind yet jumbled and fuzzy too.  Another car crossed the center line on a two lane highway.  My Dad saw the car and tried to move to the inadequate shoulder but the other car kept coming at his F-150.  There’s more details, which I am sure I might share as I continue blogging about all of this, for now I can say that telling all of my family that the patriarch of our family has died from his injuries is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  It wasn’t hard in the moment because my training in Clinical Pastoral Education taught me how to do this kind of stuff.  What is  hard is remembering their faces and their voices as they received the information and tried to process this unfathomable fact.  A stranger has to tell me the news as I entered into the ICU. I wasn’t surprised but hated to have my worse fear confirmed.

When I walked into the room that was so quiet and still, I longed for the usual noise of a ICU room.  Dad looked like he was asleep, as if he were taking nap in his favorite chair.  I reached for his hand and knew he was not asleep.  I missed his passing by one hour.  The nurses and doctors were all very kind.  The sad looks and supportive words were helpful.  I was probably in his room for more than an hour before the next family member arrived.  The rest of the evening was filled with telling each family member the news as they rushed toward this turning point in our lives.  Each retelling made Dad’s death more real but it also felt like I was living someone else’s life.

I’m calling this new section of my blog, The Undiscovered Country for a couple of reasons. I like Star Trek.  The last movie with the original cast was called The Undiscovered Country and explores how the Starfleet adapts to peace.  It wasn’t one of the better Star Trek’s but it was a great title.  I am living in an undiscovered land now.  Many of my peers have already walked into this land but it is new and frightening landscape for me.  I have already discovered the kindness of others through this ordeal.  Yesterday’s blessing was the Sprint technician who was able to download my voicemail onto my new phone, which included my last message from Dad inviting me to lunch.  And so I begin in place I do not want to be but life requires this forward movement.