Good Mourning: The First 48

Alex and I were on a call with her agent. She’s family, so we were having a good time. We were on speakerphone, Al was holding her phone as we cracked up at a joke that I can’t remember.

My phone rings.

I see that it’s my sister calling. I’ll call her right back after this. I don’t decline the call, that’s rude. I just let it ring.

Still on speaker, I see my sister’s photo pop on the screen of Al’s phone. Something isn’t right.

I walked away. I couldn’t hear the words yet. I didn’t want my life to change forever. Not right now. I’m happy. I was just laughing. “Is Ryan with you?” Her tone confirmed what I was thinking. This was one of those calls that I would never forget. We sent Ila upstairs to be with her big sister. I stopped pacing and finally faced the phone. She was hesitant, like she didn’t know how to say what she called to tell me. “Did Daddy die?” I asked.

Yes.

I replay this moment in my mind multiples times a day. Every time, I still feel the pain in my chest that feels like my heart literally breaking that I felt when she answered my very direct question. On January 4th, my father took his last breath. I wasn’t expecting it or prepared for it. It was sudden. My world has been rocked ever since.

It still doesn’t feel real. Maybe it never will. Or maybe this is exactly how “real” feels. I would say that this feels unfair, but my experience with my father was better than most. So, to say that would be too much like bitching for me to ever say out loud. He didn’t raise me that way. I won’t complain.

Even if it doesn’t feel it, I know that this is real. I am not dreaming, I will not wake up to a call or a text from him. I will not plan another trip to go visit him. We will never make a new memory. I have been reminded of this reality daily. It has all felt like a blur. ut I wrote his obituary, I viewed his body, I saw that casket close for the final time. This is as real as it gets.

A few hours before I received the news, while my dad was still alive. I was missing my mom. She passed 7 years prior. I clearly remember thinking, well at least you aren’t an orphan, you’ve still got Dad. Until I didn’t. An exercise that I often do and also coach is Roles, Rights and Responsibilities. I am a husband, a father, a brother, a friend amongst other things. I loved being a son. I took pride in that role and the responsibilities that came with it. I enjoyed the rights that came from being my parent’s son. Now, I have no living parents. Am I still a son? I believe so. I just have different responsibilities now.

It’s been 48 days. Life has gone on. The world did not stop turning. I’m making it, keeping my head up like Pac told me to. But, I’m sad. I miss him. It’s been tough not sending him the latest cute video of his granddaughters, or celebrating our Chiefs winning another Super Bowl, or calling him just to talk whenever I have a long drive to make. Missing him makes me sad, every day. But, when I sit with my sadness, I am grateful. I’m happy that I’m sad. Sadness after a death is earned in life. A lot of people don’t give a damn when their fathers die. For whatever reason, they don’t have anything worth missing. I can’t relate. Some people feel this pain when they are still children. I’m thankful that my father was able to raise me. I had 37 years with him. Of course I was hoping for more, but plenty of people would trade positions with me if they had the opportunity.

While going through things at his house I found an old media guide from my college basketball team. They had fun facts about each player with their bio. We each answered questions to tell a little bit about ourselves. Favorite athlete, favorite movie, hobbies, lifetime goals. Most of my answers would be different if you asked me today, but one answer would remain the same.

Person I most admire - My father.

I could write a book about him, maybe I will one day. But not right now, I’m just happy that he knew how much I loved and appreciated him while I had him. I will be missing him until we are together again.

I’m proud of every tear that I shed. Because I am proud of my father. He did his best. His time on this earth was time well spent. May he rest in peace. He deserves it.