I’m not really sure how to lead into this…I’m kind of stumped for clever intros. I’ve been stirring over this one for about 3 years now, but what I realized is that something had to happen to push me to finally blog about it. Just like they say, everything comes around full circle somehow? Well, here’s the story.
On February 2nd, 2009, I was sitting at lunch with my dad and his best lady friend when he suddenly stopped breathing. Just like that-blue in the face. It still kind of boggles my mind about the whole scenario, but by now we should all know that life is seriously nuts. As a 26 year-old grad student who thought her dad hung the moon, I gave him mouth-to-mouth without even really thinking about what I was actually doing. As fate would have it, that would be the last day that I saw my dad alive.
The next little while is somewhat of a blur…family, crying, disbelief. The reason that I’m talking about this, though, is not to tell the story of how my dad died; I remember sitting in my room with my cousin that night feeling very uneasy for my dad. I mean, was he scared? Did he know? Was there a dream the night before? Think of someone in your life that you talk about everything with. Nothing is off limits. That was me and my dad. So I wanted some answers.
I felt somewhat robbed. Afterall, he was my person, my friend, my dad, my rock. How could he just be taken from me like that, you know? I was battling some topics with myself that I had never even considered. People in my life had died before him, but no one that close to me. I was about to start a journey that at the time I didn’t even recognize.
My parents raised us Catholic so we would have a “backbone” in case we ever got lost and needed to come back to base (what?). I did as most other kids in my small town, and went through the motions of catechism, confirmation, and church when we could make it. I appreciate the background, don’t get me wrong, but I was clueless for what I would embark on as an adult. So time went on after my dad died, and I didn’t really act on all my curiosity that I expressed that night with my cousin. My auntie was very helpful and generous, offering me books to read and emails. But nothing was sinking in yet. It wasn’t until a good friend from back home suggested I read “The Shack” that things started to change for me. I won’t give away what happens in the book, but I’ll tell you how it rocked my world.
As I said, I felt very possessive of my dad. I never blamed God for anything…but I didn’t know God either. Reading “The Shack” helped me realize that just because Ron Carrion was my dad here on earth doesn’t change the fact that both of us are God’s children, and we are on separate spiritual journeys. I can’t interfere, control, change, understand, comprehend anyone else’s journey with God…even his. I learned to let go a little bit, and trust in something bigger than I could ever imagine. It has to be! Look at what he gave me for a dad.
A dear friend recently committed suicide, Anthony Lostra. When I found out, I felt myself return back to that place, that place in my heart, with my cousin in my room. That place of fear, unknown, and inquisition. Only this time I had something to reference. I don’t think it ever gets easier, dealing with loss. I have dreams where I am on the phone with my dad in heaven. Like I just call him up and he answers. Crazy right?! But like I said before, relationships never end, they just change. I have to trust God and Anthony that they knew each other, and what was going on. He is on his own journey that maybe I’m not meant to understand, or anyone.
Maybe you don’t believe in God, which is totally OK. I’m not pushing my belief or religion here. All I’m sayin is some pretty big events had to happen in my life to make me take spiritual inventory. No matter how painful they have been, I am grateful that they happened. What I thought was a “backbone” was really just a wishbone, so I had to make some serious tweaks. For me, I find comfort in knowing that I can’t control anyone else’s path, especially someone as wild as Ron Carrion. I also find comfort in knowing that we will see each other again…Anthony and my dad, just to name a few.