Christmas, 15 years later..
Each year since 1993, I have written about my father around Christmas. Throughout the years, the journal medium has certainly changed. At first it was pen and journal pad. Then it grew to an on line bulletin board. And then to Live Journal or Facebook or whatever on line medium we have now. It was always the same type of entry. I shared how my life was altered, path changed, direction unclear since the day he died.
It is different this year.
For many of the 15 years that have passed, we have had a memorial for my father at Church. I have also done a lot of praying "for my father". It might seem strange that I place quotation marks around "for my father". It is poinant though. To the best of my ability, I did pray for him.
Things changed this year.
I am not sure what exactly changed, and for which of the many possible reasons. It could be that I am physically healtheir and therefor have a more clear mind. Or, it could be that I am just growing up. I am not really sure. But I know it is true.
It is different this year.
I spent the anniveray of his death at a monastery where we had a memorial for him on that day. I can honestly say, that for the first time since he died, I prayed FOR my FATHER. I did not pray for me to stop missing him. I did not pray for my mother or my sister to move on with their lives. I did not pray for the pain to go away. I prayed for my father's soul. While I am sure in the Church's wisdom, she knew that we have a hard time moving on after a tragic event so in part, a memorial is for the family. But this year, it was for my father.
It is different this year.
We lifted up the Kolyva and Holy Bread and sang "Memory Eternal" for my dad and for the others we were praying for that day, and I cried. They were not tears of sadness for me, but of emotion that I am praying to the Almighty God, for a very special man who had such a wonderful impact on so many people. I was praying for his soul and that God would keep him ever in His memory. It felt as though I was praying these words as a representative for my entire family that love him. That all the nuns and those present were really praying for John Zouzoulas, and his soul. They did not pray for Georgianne's dad or Betty's father or even for Helen's husband. It was for the individual servant of God, John.
Oh I can read into this and I believe me I have. I think the difference this year is that although I miss my father very much, my heart is not broken. I love my father, but it no longer hurts to love him. So, I can go put a $1 into a vending machine and use his invention of the dollar bill acceptor, or walk past a cheese ball at Christmas and smile! I can enjoy each and every memory I have of my dad.
This post was a lot less about my dad, and more about me than I wanted. We'll see what I write next year....
May my father's memory be eternal.
It is different this year.
For many of the 15 years that have passed, we have had a memorial for my father at Church. I have also done a lot of praying "for my father". It might seem strange that I place quotation marks around "for my father". It is poinant though. To the best of my ability, I did pray for him.
Things changed this year.
I am not sure what exactly changed, and for which of the many possible reasons. It could be that I am physically healtheir and therefor have a more clear mind. Or, it could be that I am just growing up. I am not really sure. But I know it is true.
It is different this year.
I spent the anniveray of his death at a monastery where we had a memorial for him on that day. I can honestly say, that for the first time since he died, I prayed FOR my FATHER. I did not pray for me to stop missing him. I did not pray for my mother or my sister to move on with their lives. I did not pray for the pain to go away. I prayed for my father's soul. While I am sure in the Church's wisdom, she knew that we have a hard time moving on after a tragic event so in part, a memorial is for the family. But this year, it was for my father.
It is different this year.
We lifted up the Kolyva and Holy Bread and sang "Memory Eternal" for my dad and for the others we were praying for that day, and I cried. They were not tears of sadness for me, but of emotion that I am praying to the Almighty God, for a very special man who had such a wonderful impact on so many people. I was praying for his soul and that God would keep him ever in His memory. It felt as though I was praying these words as a representative for my entire family that love him. That all the nuns and those present were really praying for John Zouzoulas, and his soul. They did not pray for Georgianne's dad or Betty's father or even for Helen's husband. It was for the individual servant of God, John.
Oh I can read into this and I believe me I have. I think the difference this year is that although I miss my father very much, my heart is not broken. I love my father, but it no longer hurts to love him. So, I can go put a $1 into a vending machine and use his invention of the dollar bill acceptor, or walk past a cheese ball at Christmas and smile! I can enjoy each and every memory I have of my dad.
This post was a lot less about my dad, and more about me than I wanted. We'll see what I write next year....
May my father's memory be eternal.