Losing Hannah's Daddy

I returned home last night to find messages all over the place. Doc McConnell, father of my new friend Hannah, passed away yesterday. My heart is so sore for her and her family.

No matter how grown up we think we are, the death of a parent reduces us to children again. Children left alone in the dark. I was completely shut down, emotionally numb, for what felt like a good number of years after my dad died in 1996. I still miss him everyday. Yes, it's part of life and living, but it's just so hard, unbearable in its immediacy. With the passage of time, the memories begin to comfort instead of sting, but that takes the rest of your life.

I didn't get to meet Doc, but since knowing Hannah, I had heard of his remarkable talent as a renowned storyteller. His last show, a week ago, was a triumph--a standing ovation by all who saw him on stage, spinning his yarns and telling his tall tales. I know the family is grateful that he had the chance for one last big show. He went out with a "bang."

But what they cherished is the non-public person; the father, the grandfather. No matter what the accomplishments listed in an obituary, the loss is entirely personal when it's your dad. Like all traumatic losses, you never really get over it, you just get through it, and hopefully you find some way to keep going in spite of it.

Rest in peace, Doc. We'll take care of Hannah and her family from here, as best we can.