Grief 101

I am by no means an expert on this subject.  Fortunately, I had only two deaths in my life that were meaningful before my dad's departure last month.  One of those was my grandfather, who died when I was 5 years old and frankly I was was not exceedingly mature and the impact on me at that time was therefore not very profound.:)  The second was a man that I didn't meet until he was well into his eighties and I was honestly just thankful that I had the chances to learn from him that I did.  I also haven't had a life worthy of many other huge griefs.

Therefore, I am not writing this because I think anyone will learn or even needs to learn from my writing.  I am writing this because I realize just how poor of a friend I have been to those who are friends of mine, who lost someone.  I am writing because I never knew what to say to people when they were grieved by things that just didn't affect me very much.  Finally, I am writing because I am hopeful that it will be cathartic for me to put words to the page.

The first thing that has surprised me is that recovering from grief is not linear. In fact, it often is all over the place.  Much like many things in life, there are good days and there are bad ones.  I've made it through an entire day where my life almost seems normal.  However, that does not mean the next day will be more of the same.  I do believe that as time continues to march on and I build more memories with the people I have left, the impact won't encompass as much as it does.  But I learned from my father and the aforementioned death of his father that that pain never truly leaves and there will probably be days when my son becomes an adult that just make me sad thinking about how much I want my dad.

Sometimes being busy takes your mind off of the situation, but there have been a few times in just the short time I've had, where my busy-ness makes me think I need to tell my dad something or reminds me of a time we were working together.  As I pick up my phone, I realize that he won't be on the other end of that call.  I find myself suffering from intense malaise.  I have been so much less productive with my life, and it isn't that my dad is needed for me to do the simple things (like pay my bills), but rather that I just can't seem to be as excited about life in general.

I can only imagine how difficult it would be if I didn't have faith in God or the knowledge that my dad was with him.  Even that knowledge does not take away the reality that my life is forever changed.  While that knowledge makes me very happy for him, it still leaves me missing him.  Finally, I don't need the comfort of hearing where he is.  I imagine this is even more true for the atheist.  What we want, I believe, is someone to empathize with what we are feeling, not to tell us what he is feeling.

By the way, we all love hearing that people are willing to help, but I think a more appropriate statement would be identifying a precise way that you can help.  For example, I'll bring you dinner on Tuesday or we'll watch your kids one night or let me run an errand for you or this is how we can meet and reminisce about your dad.  No one in grief is likely to make a Rolodex of all the people willing to help and call them as the needs come in.  In fact, the needs are normally unknown.  I mean someone had to remind me to eat the other day.  Me!

Overall, the biggest thing is that I am not necessarily doing better today, just because my father's death is one day further away.  Today might be the first time I heard a song he liked in church or the 20th time I get into the car that used to be his or the first time I saw his favorite team play or the 800th time I run across something at work that he would be a great sounding board for.  The reality is that for 40 years of life, my dad was my confidant, my fan, my mentor, my accountability partner, my fellow cheerleader for our teams, my friend, and my father.

Life just won't ever be the same, and no matter where I know he is, I selfishly want him here.  I want him to see his grand-kids continue to grow (hopefully in the nurture and admonition of the Lord), and then see my grand-children do the same.  I want him to give me advice and be there for my mother, my sister, and me.  But most of all, I just want to see him.  And while I do not grieve as those who have no hope, I'm sure I'll continue to cry for me.  And I'm not sure that will be any different, even if I live another 40 years.

A Few Insufficient Words about Paul West

If you did not attend my father's celebration of life party/funeral, you must watch the video we showed.  At any rate, a few people asked for a copy of my remarks at the funeral.  Here they are.

For the first 18 years of my life (Do you remember back in elementary school or high school? when you are trying to get your identity.  When most of us are wondering what we will ever turn into)– yes that first 18 years of my life– I think everyone knew me as Paul's annoying son.  I was OK with that, I was proud of him, and I was never jealous of anything that he had.  That's probably because my father was the most generous man on the planet.

I was the son they had to put up with to spend time with the greatness of Mr. West.  But somewhere around the end of that childhood, something magical began to happen.  People started telling me that I would turn out just like my father.  I wore it like a badge of honor.  To this day when people tell me that I will end up like him, I get excited.  I think one person even tried to insult me with it, but I took it as such a compliment that it never stuck.

I had a tremendously enthusiastic and energetic father.  When I went to college, it was the one time in life when a majority of the people I knew and interacted with did not know me as the son of Paul.  Nevertheless, his impact was profound.  I remember his calls of encouragement and his championing my choices.  He flew me home to take the real estate exam.  He flew me home to watch my favorite basketball team (Shawn Kemp and the Seattle SuperSonics) in both Miami and Orlando.  He went to law school and told me I should go, too.  He congratulated me and was excited for me when Kelly and I got engaged.  I began to believe that “nothing great in life can happen without enthusiasm.” 

My father was about the most supportive man you could imagine.  He set me up for success in law school by buying me books for classes, hooking me up with an old high school friend of his who ended up being family to Kelly and me while we were in Tallahassee.  When I finally graduated from all my over-education, he hired me.  I’d go off and find other jobs, and he would re-hire me.  I never had to worry about a place to work, as he continued to provide for me even past when you would think it would be normal.

My father was a tremendous grandfather.  He began to move around less and was slightly less energetic, but he was a grandfather who had inside jokes with every grandkid.  He made each of them feel super special.  He continued to exhibit to me what it means to be a good father and husband.  He was an endless supply of love for all of us.  He truly rejoiced with us when we rejoiced and wept with us when we were weeping.

I feel blessed beyond measure that I had the most loving father.  I’ve read that many people struggle with a concept of God because their earthly fathers were not.  But through my father, I have easily learned what it means to have a God who gives us endlessly.  I see what it means to know a heavenly Father who likes to give good gifts, regardless of our worry.  I see what it is like to have someone who loves you, even when you are unlovable.  But the absolute best thing about my father is that when I tried to tell him stuff like that, he would merely say that he was a shadowy, in-a-glass, dark representation of Christ.  He was flawed, but his Savior was not. 

Throughout my life, I can hear my father quoting Scripture to me (and I still can hear his voice teaching me through Scripture).  You see the legacy of Paul West is not just that he knew a lot of Scripture (though he did), or that he encouraged all of us to learn Scripture (though he did that, too), or that he exemplified what a godly man looks life (once again, he did).  It’s that he did all of that concurrently while all the time saying that you could live like that through the help of his God.  And that has impacted my life so profoundly and I know it has impacted many of you in the same way. 

You see, his legacy will continue by us all applying the great things he taught us and becoming saints like unto him.  This is a precious occasion, as “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.”  The challenge for me is not to remember him fondly– that is easily done– but rather to live the life that he would be proud of and that can only be done by constantly going to the reservoir of God’s love as my dad has shown me to do.

I'm Chasing Ghosts

"Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you."

When I was younger, my father encouraged me to Bible Quiz.  Because of that, I learned many, many Bible verses.  While I complained about his nagging as a child, I find myself doing the exact same thing (though perhaps less lovingly) to my children.  This is because the momentary frustration of the time is not even worthy of being compared to the benefits I continue to observe from this blessing into adulthood.

Now, my father passed away yesterday, and the repercussions of that are going to be carried on into the rest of my life, as I begin to learn to navigate the next chapter of my life in this world without him.  How do I pay tribute to the man who shaped me more than can be expressed with words?  The reality is that I cannot.  

As my extended family came together this week to mourn the passing of my father, we told stories of our wonderful lives, because of him.  As the outpouring has come, we know that so many of you were impacted also, because he was a great man.  But, some of the people who were greatly impacted led to stories about how awesome my dad was that I didn't even know.  The reality is that he was not just a great man at home or just a great man in the public eye, he was always exemplifying Christ wherever he was.

While my grandparents could not have known 65 years ago when they named him after the apostle that he would turn out as fantastic as he did, the reality is that the above named verse, written by the man whose name he shared, is one that I will carry when thinking about him.  This is not just because in the sub-vocalization of this Scripture in my mind, the voice-over I hear is my father's voice. It is because I know that the things I need to do are those things that I learned, received, heard, and saw in him.


My good friend, David Poston, pointed out to me a few years ago that many modern Christians will say don't ever look at me, only look to Christ.  And while we would both affirm that salvation only comes from Christ, it is also true that the Bible affirms that God puts examples in our lives for the express purpose of our edification and training.  I was fortunate to have that example in my home for the first half of my life.

It would be difficult to shape someone more than my father shaped me.  Briefly, he is the primary reason I participate in Bible Quiz, he made/encouraged me to get my real estate license right after high school (much of my work centers around real estate), he encouraged me to go to law school, and he modeled being a wonderful husband and father to me.  I hope to be half that good of a husband to Kelly, and father to Jacob, Emily, and Julia.

And, this is why I am chasing ghosts.  My father left such an indelible imprint on this world that I find it impossible to believe he did it all in just 65 years.  I have no doubts that my father has heard, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant" and is with his Savior.  I also have no doubts that the only hope I (or any of us) have is that we allow God to do great things through us.  I also feel like I cannot possibly catch up to the legacy my father left.  But I know, with God's help, I will do all I can.  He gave me the name "West" in pristine condition, and I will try to keep it that way.