Today marks one year since my father passed away. It has been a tough year in many ways, but also a good growing experience.
I started thinking about the mourning rituals I observed and participated in while living in Thailand. When my father-in-law passed away we held several days of evening services and meals for the community — family and neighbours and friends. Each night there was singing, praying and preaching followed by delicious food, prepared and serviced lovingly by his children, grandchildren and other relatives. The final day of celebrating his life, all the attendees drove to the cemetery in a long caravan of vehicles. There was some prestige in having a long caravan.
Following that, we (his children and their spouses) wore black for 3 months. Some people mourned their loved ones by wearing black for 3 days, 3 weeks, a year. That defined period allowed the bereaved to step back from normal activities and spend some time in their grief, without having to explain. What I found helpful was the “permission” to end that period of grief. At the end of those 3 months we could get on with living and enjoying life, without any feeling of guilt that we hadn’t been sufficiently sad and despondent, and that we had paid the tribute that was expected by the culture.
This morning I had a talk with myself, and have decided that one year is a good time to get back to living without regret. I will always miss my dad. Each day I still have fleeting thoughts that I should phone him and share some news with him, before remembering that he is gone. The things he taught me by example and words will be with me forever. And one of his clearest examples was that the best way to move on from grief is to literally move on and discover new opportunities.
Reflections 