Legacy

The father of a friend of mine passed away Sunday. I found out because he posted the information within hours on facebook. In the note, he said he hoped he'd be half the man his father was.

I've been thinking about that for the past few days, wondering what it would be like to lose your father before you've reached adulthood yourself. Of course in many circles, a guy still in college qualifies as an adult, but most of us of a certain age know just how unprepared for life you are at that age. I know there has to be that thought in the back of his mind that says to him, you know, I want to make my dad proud, but when I am the one guiding my own ship without any advice from my dad, where will I steer it?

Joe's father was an older man, and I still see them in my mind's eye, walking into the sanctuary for mass. I often get a good view of people as they find their seats, because I cantor regularly, which puts me in a position to face the congregation. Before Joe left for college, they'd arrive together, Joe steadying his father as the man made his way slowly and painfully to the very last pew in the back, the last row on my left. Our sanctuary is rounded in the back, so this pew is smaller than the ones flanking the center aisle. I assumed he chose it so that he and Joe could sit alone, and so that he could get in and out more easily when it was time to come forward to receive communion. I always smiled at Joe if I could catch his eye, because I often thought how kind Joe was to match his pace to his father's pace, and be so attentive.

I think Joe must wish to have those days back now, because the alternative, to be without a father, must feel like hanging suspended over a canyon, knowing there is nothing tying you to the earth, knowing you are seconds from a free fall.

Sure, that feeling has to fade with time, with the experience of making decisions and defining yourself without the guidance of a parent. But it's my guess that it never goes away.

John Henry, rest in peace.

--Laura