This is the eight anniversary of my father’s death. He died with his kids around him, and even though he had basically been in a coma for three day’s, I like to think that somewhere he knew we were by his side.
Death is something that comes to us all, though we generally fight like hell to avoid it. Dad didn’t linger. He was diagnosed with cancer of the pleura of the lungs in late December and died just about six weeks later. Not to be preachy, but it was smoking for 40 years that killed him.
The first five anniversaries were really hard. I’d start to get odd and withdrawn two or three weeks before and then about a week before realize why I was in such a strange mood. Of course the day of would be the worst, but as time goes by I’ve gotten to a place where it is not so bad.
This year it was only the day before that I realized the anniversary was coming up. And while I am missing him today, I am not crushed by it. I guess that time really does heal all wounds.
Still I have committed myself to using this day as the day to remember the things that I am moving forward in my Dad’s name. Being an atheist (like Dad) I know that he is gone, the personality that he was died with his body.
But that does not mean that he is lost to this world. That is what I am committed to. I make it my job, whenever I lose someone, to find one or a few of the things that they felt strongly about and to carry on speaking for out for them in their name.
To me that is the best form of immortality. And it is something that can be achieved without the recourse of gods or religion.
Dad was a lawyer, he spent his career in pursuit of the balance that is the promise of the law. His basic understanding was that the idea of justice was not revenge but to balance acts and power. To have this kind of system work, required that someone always be willing to stand up for the little guy, and that was his calling.
I am not a lawyer, but I have dedicated myself to the idea that power must be balanced. That any time there is power, whether it is governmental or moneyed interests or just a majority, there has to be someone arguing for restraint in the exercise of that power. That is what I carry on from Dad, the fight for balance.
Which is not to say that it is a winning fight, not even 50% of the time. I asked Dad about that once and he told me that it is not always about winning, that the struggle is worthwhile in and of itself.
Like a lot of things (though not everything to be sure) that he told I find that he is right about that. But I’d add a caveat; it is worthwhile to struggle for an ideal, but one of the reasons is that some struggles take longer than others. Even if your issue is one that you consistently lose on for your entire life, that does not mean that it will always be a loser. The fight for equality for all citizens is one that we have been struggling with as a nation for generations. And we continue to struggle today.
The increased equality that African Americans achieved in the Civil Rights Movement did not just grow whole from that generation. The foundations were laid by those who fought (and too often died) in generations before.
So while there is something to be gained personally by fighting the good fight we should never take our eyes off of the fact that it is by continuing the struggle we set the stage for someone else to win the day, eventually.
I’d like to share the letter I wrote Dad about a month before he died.
Dear Dad,
I wanted to write you a letter to tell you some stuff. It is not that I feel that we could not have this conversation in person, but every time I tried, I got choked up and, hell, if you try to talk like that all that gets focused on is the crying, you know?
So, what to say? It comes down to just a few things. First off, I want you to know that I have always admired the way that you were able to boot-strap yourself from your humble beginnings through college and law school. Our society values the Horatio Alger stories (with good reason), but it is somewhat rare that you get to meet and know one. You will always be one of my examples of how determination and hard work can take you far.
I also wanted to let you know that you are my primary role model for what it means to be a man. I am not going to gild the lily here, I am completely aware of your strengths and weaknesses. Having said that, I really feel that you have showed the combination of strength and compassion; humor and discipline; and intelligence and knowledge that makes up a good man. If more men could live up to this standard, I think the world would be a much better place. All that I can do is try to set a similar example myself.
The thing that has most affected the way that I live my life is the way that you have lived your life rationally. I do not mean to imply that you don’t let your emotions inform your actions, that is not the case at all. Rather once you have decided the direction that you want to go in, you consciously use your intellect and knowledge to get it. Beyond that you never shy away from researching anything that interests you or you might need. Too few in our society are able and willing to look dispassionately at their situation and form a plan to get from where they are to where they want to be; you have been a master at for as long I have known you.
I want you to know that the things you have stood for in your life, social justice; fairness for workers and the under-privileged ; liberal policy, and a general feeling that government, well run, is a strong and needed force for positive change will have a passionate advocate in me. Wherever I am, I will be speaking of these things, in both of our names.
In the years to come I will miss your advice, and your conversation. I have really valued your opinions, even when I did not follow them. But, I have had the time to know you and will always be able to ask myself, “Now just how would Pop handle this?” and have a good feel for the way out of any situation. I want you to know that I love you and always have. I have been and will continue to be proud to introduce myself as Ron Egnor’s Son.
With Love, Remembrance and Respect, I remain your Son,
B-
So, here we are eight years after that letter. I still speak out for workers, for equality and the little guy. I would like to think that I would do it even if I had not made this commitment to my Dad, but in the end it doesn’t matter. I will be keeping his memory and the struggle alive and one day there will be victory.
The last thing that I’d offer is that if you have not told your parents what you will take from having known them, don’t wait. It is always too soon to lose a parent and the one thing that I think a parent wants to know is that you will be fine even after they are gone.
So think about it, and send a letter to them, even if they are not ill now. If nothing else it will make their day.
The floor is yours.