Two years – 724 days – or an eternity; that’s what it seems like without my dad. The two years of healing since his death in 2013 has been an evolution. Most often, I remember him sweetly. Frank Jorett was a kind, gentle soul; a happy man overall with a legion of friends; so many friends and people he touched that
we were overwhelmed at his memorial service. The line of people wrapped around the block for hours.
A tear falls as I write this remembrance. Nearly every day, I know dad is watching. His belly laugh is still strong in my memory. His voice in my brain is clear and solid. I miss him wildly during baseball season. Out loud, I’ll comment, “What did you think of that call, dad,” as the Phillies or whoever I was watching play of the field of dreams. Now, my husband, Doug is watching baseball more intently. In this postseason, he is turning on the games and checking the scores – sometimes before I even give it a thought. Perhaps dad’s spirit and my unflinching love of baseball have inspired Doug.
Our family misses dad every day. A recent dinner with the family brought us together to mark a long celebration of my mom’s 80th birthday (not until 2017). The gathering of an organization my family has been involved with for decades, brought many of my dad’s friends, too. One man came up to use and told us the story of how every day since my dad died, his day starts with prayers that start off remembering my dad. He told us how he had so
much fun with my dad. He did so much work for the organization – because he loved the camaraderie. The event was special – but I could not help but wish dad was there in body, not just spirit.
While two years has passed, it is clear sadness bubbles up when I least expect it. The new normal of holidays and occasions without dad has been difficult. Marking October 24th does not come without a tear – though it’s important to remember that smiles and laughter marked nearly every day of dad’s life – especially in the last years. Mom calls dad her rock; she continues to adjust and evolve with a circle of
friends, trips with senior groups and a full schedule of things to do. My brother, Steve, misses dad in many ways since they spent so much time together shopping and running errands. Now Steve, who lives closer to mom, is at least a ‘stone’ for mom and she depends on him.
Next year, we are repeating our vacation in New Hampshire with another week with mom, Steve, his wife, Sue and our son, Adam. It’s a wonderful time; but it again will be without dad. And that is front of mind for me – still – two years since he left us.