My Retirement Lifestyle

I remember the many times that my dad would call me to let me know that someone we knew had passed away. As he became older, the calls came more frequently, as did the “I love yous.” When our friends and family around us begin to pass more frequently, we are reminded of our own mortality and the need to let those closest to us know how much we love them.

Losing those we love and care about is a painful part of life, and as we age, that cycle continues to accelerate as our circle grows smaller. It never gets any easier to lose our loved ones. The journey of grief ebbs and flows, tearing at our heart, sometimes shattering it to pieces.

In the past three years, I have lost many beloved people in my circle – cousins, aunts, my mother-in-law. Most painful of all was losing both my dad and my brother within a two-year span of time; both out of the blue and completely unexpected.

In many ways, Dad and David were two peas in a pod. Both were outgoing, athletic, charismatic, funny, charming, witty, and engaging. They were fun to be around, and made a friend everywhere they went. Both were master carpenters who took pride in their work. Most importantly, they were both kind and loving men. They loved people, and people loved them.

My dad was the most optimistic person I have ever known. When life got me down, he always had something uplifting to say – often with a side of humor – reminding me to look at the bigger picture and count my blessings. Dad was also one of the most hard-working people I have ever known, and at the age of 80, still hadn’t fully retired. Getting up early in the morning, with a whistle and his thermos of coffee, he loved going to work. The last time I saw my dad, my sister and I took him out for breakfast. We laughed and reminisced about our childhood for more than two hours. It’s such a special memory.

My brother David had a spirit of adventure. His natural athleticism led him to challenge himself and his physical capabilities. When Dad passed away, David uprooted his life and moved to the island of Kauai. When we talked about it, he told me how much he loved Hawaii, its beauty, and its people. He said that he had always wanted to live there, and with our dad’s passing, realized it was now or never. In the short time David lived there, he made many friends, biking and golfing all over the island. That’s not at all surprising, given how gregarious my brother was. In the final days of his life, David had his final adventure, cliff diving with some friends after a long hike. Tragically, something went wrong, and David was swam to shore by his friends, unconscious, never to recover. His Hawaiian friends honored his life with a paddle out in the ocean where he spent his last hours, which the Indigenous people of Hawaii beautifully refer to as his “sunset.”

Dad has been gone for two and a half years, and my brother just half a year. I miss them both every day. Some days my memories put a bittersweet smile on my face, and other days, my chest physically aches with pain and loss. I know that I need to let myself feel and process all the emotions I have, no matter how long it takes.

Grief is a journey, the one journey in life that none of us want or look forward to, but must experience. It helps to remember that the ache in my chest and my tears that fall are reminders that the love we had for one another was special, and meant to be cherished.

I am so thankful and fortunate to have had such a wonderful dad and brother in my life. In time, I know that my memories and the love we shared will begin to mend and piece my heart back together; never to be the same, but with less heartache and more happy memories.

I will love and miss Dad and David forever. They will live in my heart until I take my last breath.