A Fall Into Grace — Writing My World

It was one of those moments that seem to happen in slow motion. Ironically, I was headed downstairs to meditate. Yet, wherever my head was…it was far from the present moment or the steps under my feet. I am not sure if it was the flip flops on my bare feet, the unfamiliar nubby carpet on the stairs of our rented condo, or just my lack of awareness that caused the fall. Suddenly a few steps from the bottom, I fell as my ankle rolled and my right arm reached out only to scrape across the tile floor as I landed. I surely yelped in fright, because John was there in an instant. After examining my scraped and bleeding arm, he quickly put together a bag of ice. After further examination, we both decided nothing was broken or strained… only my pride. Falls can be scary for women my age, but happily yoga, recent strength training, and maybe those Reclast infusions saved the day. I wonder now if my tumble wasn’t just what I needed.

Since my father’s death, I am burdened with memories of my less than stellar moments. My mistakes run on a loop in the middle of the night when I cannot sleep. I dwell on the times I disappointed, fell short, or simply wasn’t there. I find myself bound up in a past that I cannot change nor correct. It is a grief turned inward that blinds me from all the blessings my father bestowed. Maybe sitting on the cold tile floor this morning was a clarion call to not only get up, but begin again. A call to let go of my past mistakes and missteps. As my father urged us as a teenagers, It is time to “straighten up and fly right.”

I suppose we cannot help but look backwards when someone dies, but does that look back need to dwell on only our poorest moments? Can we not also remember tender moments when love was felt, laughter bubbled up spontaneously, or a father simply said, “Thanks for calling.” Perhaps it was grief that caused my tumble this morning? Yet, maybe it was not a plummet into despair, but an awakening to self forgiveness & gratitude? If I fell as a little girl my father would never chastise me for falling. He would simply help me up, dust me off, and say, “There you go…you’re ok.” What I need to realize is that he is still telling me the same thing now. I will be ok.

In the days and years ahead tears will surely come, but hopefully they will no longer be tinged with remorse. Gratitude is a muscle I can strengthen with the many wonderful memories of my father. He left my sisters and I too many gifts to count. If my heart remains open and not shuttered in self centered sorrow, I will begin to see and appreciate them all.

Written in loving memory of David Warren Ochiltree aka Daddy, Dad, and PopPop. Rest in Peace.