Today my family—and families in general—is on my mind. As is mourning.
Here is a quote from an article Mary Ann Frost wrote for Woman’s Exponent in April 1880: “Without the woman chaos would now reign triumphant on the earth.”
Today I’m also revising a talk (for the umpteenth time) I will give about my dad at his funeral this upcoming Saturday, Nov. 11, 2017 [Update: here is a link to the audio of me giving the talk]. He’ll be buried in the same cemetery as Mary Ann. I mostly have to shorten it, but it’ll be hard to deliver no matter how eloquent I try to make it due to the emotions of it all.
For those who do not yet know, my endlessly kind and affable dad passed away peacefully after a long courageous battle with a rare autoimmune disease and cancer on October 31. It happened in the best possible way for my sweet mama, considering the circumstances:
All of my siblings (there are 6 of us) were at his side as it happened. I was holding one of his hands. My mom kissed him as his eyes flitted about longing for life’s last curiosities; she then kissed him one more time and then he left us. It was excruciatingly painful, but having our whole family present brought quick peace. My mom deserves a lifetime of comfort after all she’s been through as his caretaker for over half a decade. We were able to watch his favorite movies, listen to his favorite music, and share with him my adventure in Sweden in our final days with him. I’ll miss him always.
Lane Ryan Pas Waters — August 27, 1952 – October 31, 2017
Also today (Nov. 5, 2017), Sweden learned part of my family’s story as my “special day” segment aired during today’s episode of Allt För Sverige. The story shown is that from my ancestor, Olof, who is in my grandpa’s line. Mary Ann is in my grandma’s line. I will share Olof’s story in a separate post.
I am filled with equal parts happiness and sorrow. The episode resonated even deeper with me because of everything that happened this week
Hold on to your loved ones, share stories with them. Mourn with and for them.
As my friend Jacob Baker wrote, “The work of mourning is a knife that efficiently cuts away the outer protective shells we have carefully built to keep others away, obscuring our view of one another… Mourning elides space-time… and takes what would have been years (if ever) of bitterly hard work and condenses it into a shared moment where time stands still and we are left with only each other.”
He goes on, “Where there are stories there can be mourning. And where there is mourning, there we will be, undone by one another, all together for the very, very first time.”