A few days after Greg died, a man from our town’s memorial park showed me possible gravesites that I could choose. The awful experience was only made worse when he remarked that his mother had died when he was a child and that some of his siblings had no memory of her.
It felt like a punch in the gut. I could barely wrap my mind around Greg’s death but already the fear of our son forgetting him loomed large. I hadn’t been able to keep Greg alive and I feared I wouldn’t be able to keep his memory alive either.
That was 43 months ago now - a number that seems impossibly big.
So much has changed since then and our boy has grown so much. But one thing that hasn’t changed is Greg’s legacy in our life.
If I could go back in time, I’d reassure myself that the man’s story didn’t have to be ours: that there are ways to live after grief that don’t necessitate erasing the past; that children can know a parent even when the parent is no longer with them. I’d tell myself that I would see more of Greg in our son over time, not less, because Greg is an intrinsic part of him that didn’t go away when Greg died.
I’d tell myself that years later other people would see my son and instantly recognize Greg in his manerisms, facial expressions, sense of humor, and even the way he walks. I’d share that my boy would light up when he heard stories about his dad, would remember his preferences and picadillos, and frequently tell me with a laugh that something he remembered was “classic daddy”.
Earlier this week, I watched my son jump from a 30 foot bridge into a lake below and thought of the many times Greg went cliff jumping in college. My son’s excitement and the confidence with which he climbed the guard rail and teetered over the water on a tiny ledge before jumping in was 100% from his dad, not me. I sat far below in the water cheering him on and shoving down my fear. A jump like that is a risk I would never take but one I’m glad he feels free to. It’s one his dad would’ve loved to see.
Afterward I told him all about how his dad loved doing things like that when he was younger. I got to share new stories and introduce him to parts of his dad he hadn’t known before.
He didn’t get to have his dad in his life for very long, but the impact and influence of his dad is tremendous. He is still his father’s son. Not even death can take that away.
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