Recently I went through a life experience that I have previously never had to go through. It has been a few of days now, and still it is impacting me. I have asked myself a couple times “Okay, when are you going to be over this?” like it should be something simple.
I've been around funerals before; a friend in High School, co-workers, a few distant family or friends along my life's path. This, though, is the first time in my life that I have ever had to deal with death...directly.
My Dad was 76 years old this year. And now he’s gone. Just last week, I was talking to him at his bedside, and this week I came upon the sudden and stark realization that I can never do that again. I will never be able to sit at his bedside, or across a dinner table, or lounge on the couch, and have a conversation with him. Ever. He is gone. This truth is hard to swallow, yet the odd thing is this isn’t news to me. Let’s face it! Anyone who has ever watched a movie or read an epic novel knows that death is permanent, it is real. Even in Harry Potter, Charmed, and other mystical tales, the dead don’t rise again. They may appear and chat for a while, but the finality of their death is still real, permanent.
I am a Christian, and I believe that God is good and will bring my Dad to heaven. Being a carpenter and a painter, I am sure my Dad is up there right now creating some masterpieces for me to see when it is my turn, and I meet him there! Jesus was a carpenter, so Dad should fit right in! When I talk to others about how my Dad is gone from this earth, that I will never talk to him again, they respond by reminding me that I can talk to him any time, he’s a spirit now, free from the pain of this world and moved on to the next. I can speak out loud and he will hear me, I can pray and hope that the message gets through.
As a Christian, I understand where this is coming from. It doesn’t matter, though. It isn’t the same. My real, flesh and blood Dad, that big, gruff, goof of a man, with his deep voice, and hearty laughter...is gone. It will never be the same.
I feel it is important to tell this story. To write this and hopefully pass the message on to others.
Over the last several months, I had the opportunity to talk to my Dad one-on-one. Actually, it was more to listen to him. It has been tremendously sad for me to see him withering into a weaker and more frail person all this time. It happened so fast - cancer is a horrible nightmare that I truly pray we find a cure for, so that no one else, ever, has to go through it like he did. Something I am grateful for in all this, though, was the time I did spend with him.
Dad told me countless stories, talked of things that he remembered that he had never spoken of to me before. I think maybe it was this realization that he was dying that spurred him into such conversation. That is a normal reaction, and good thing to do. I learned so much, and cherish the memory of those short times I had with him. If I think back on the last few years, I curse myself for not spending a LOT more time with him. But that is hindsight, isn’t it - “IF I had only known...” doesn’t qualify anyone for a second chance.
Here is something my Dad told me, something I want to share. There were many stories he told me on a number of different visits (I wish I had made time for more!) however there was one day in particular that stands out more than the others. My poor Dad, in pain, tired, coughing every few minutes, his voice hoarse and raspy, stayed awake and spoke to me for almost two hours straight! Seriously, I could barely get in a couple of words!
It started with me talking for about 10 minutes, and telling jokes to make him laugh. My thought process was that if this was his last time on this ball of mud, we should at least make it a happy time before he leaves. I guess it worked - his laughter and smiles seemed to give him energy. He perked up. He spoke...and kept on speaking.
I won’t tell you, dear reader, everything he said, as the purpose of this commentary is focused on one part of his message to me that day. As fate would have it, it is a message I heard repeated in several other talks and discussions and books I heard or read over the next few weeks before my Dad’s passing, and it is also the first message that popped into my mind when I looked upon his face for the last time.
I feel it important to share it with you. My Dad felt it so very important to share with me, and he said it as a life lesson, a warning, and urged me to take him seriously. Silently, days after as I was thinking on what he said, the message itself seemed to be pleading with me to make it known to the world.
It’s quite simple, and I have two separate phrases that sum it up. They each try to tell the same thing, but from a different perspective.
1) Live every day to its fullest.
2) Don’t die with the music still in you.
Let me briefly delve into a little more detail on each point.
First, “Live every day to its fullest” is more than what you see on the surface. This is something we have all heard, probably hundreds of times in our lives, and more than likely the grand majority of us do not understand it, follow it, or even truthfully know what this means. I am not a scholar on the topic, but I do have some new insight to it. My Dad urged me “Don’t hold onto hurtful things, Andreas. Life is too short to be mad or angry all the time. Let go of all that garbage, and enjoy every day! You don’t know how many you have left. Love your kids and be with them as much as possible. Be involved!”
It is so true. When he told me this, I understood it logically...but I didn’t feel it, I didn’t understand it with my heart. It was just something that made sense, a rule of thumb to tuck away and think about another day. Truly, tomorrow never comes, I see that now.
Second, “Don’t die with the music still in you”. This hurts, so much. It hurts to write this, but it was a clear message I had been given. You see, close to the end of this conversation we shared, my Dad looked at me with sudden anger, frustration, and sorrow, holding up the feeding tube, looking at the hospital style bed he was in, and shrugging in futility before saying his next words to me.
“Look at this. What can I do? Damn it, I want to live! I have many things I still want to do! I want to paint! I need to get better so that I can properly say ‘Thank You’ to Barb for watching over me, and caring for me...I have places I want to visit again, and things I want to accomplish. But what can I do?”
My Dad was 76 years old this year. But don’t let that fool you - he still had fire in his heart, passion in his soul. He didn’t want to die, because there was still music inside him that he wanted to let out for his family to hear. He still felt young inside! He was a great painter - I have several paintings of his on my walls, and they are fabulous! Its hard to look at them now without getting tears in my eyes. And yet with all the paintings he had done, my Dad wanted to do more. He wasn’t finished yet!
You ever watched a movie, where one of the characters has lost a loved one and says something along the lines of “I wish I had more time...I never had the chance to say goodbye...”? The truth is, it never matters how much time you have...it is never going to be enough. I want so badly for my Dad to be alive, to be here just that one more time, to hold his hand, to hear his voice talking or singing, or laughing. But he is gone, and so memories will have to do.
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the heart of the message my Dad was trying to tell me, and I received it too late to truly understand and share with him. And that is why I want to write it here and post it online for the world to read. Even if only one person reads this, but it gives them a chance at a better life, a better relationship, a better understanding of how precious life is and how precious little time we have in it, than it will be worth it.
Live each day of your life like you are doing it on purpose. Each decision, each task, own the choices you make, even if they are mistakes! Make sure that the decisions you make on how to spend your time are exactly that: your decision. Whether it is playing a video game, watching a movie, writing a novel, spending time with family or friends, working, composing a symphony...whatever it is, do it on purpose, and be happy with your choice.
You have dreams in you. We all do. DON’T WAIT! Start, and get the ball rolling now. Beginning something is 50% of the work! Once you’ve started and build up momentum, the rest seems to somehow carry the dream forward on its own. Go after them! It doesn’t matter how simple or complex your dreams are, just move towards them! No one on their deathbed - trust me, no one - will ever say “I wish I had done less with my life, I wish I had less time”. Time is the most precious commodity you have - be very careful what you are trading it for.
Pursue your dreams. You know something that I really wish my Dad could have told me that day? It would have given me a lot more peace of mind, a great deal of comfort, if he had instead told me “Son, I have a lived a full life, and I have accomplished most of my dreams. The dreams I didn’t finish, I pass on to you and others to complete for me. I don’t want to die, but I am ready to, because I know my life was full of everything I ever dreamed of!”
I want that for me. And for you. And everyone. I want it so that everyone, when it is their turn to pass on to Heaven, the Afterlife, the Great Beyond, or whatever their particular belief calls it, they can do so with a smile, and a peaceful heart.
Please don’t misunderstand. I believe my Dad is at peace now. I just wish that he had found that peace before he left this world.
Chase your dreams, be truthful in your pursuit of happiness, and attain them!
God bless.
Written by Andreas Zimmermann
- In fond memory of Klaus Zimmermann, 1937 - 2013, Calgary, AB, Canada
