Friday, May 18th, 2012
Nathan Goldberg, a grieving father, shares his memories of the son and brother that he and his daughters knew and loved
My daughters knew him as Johnny. I knew him as Jonathan.
Yesterday I buried my son. As my daughters and I said our farewells, I realised that there was a Johnny and a Jonathan.
In their eulogy, Johnny was the brother who was an exceptional child, who pushed buttons, who could be very naughty with a wicked sense of humour overlaid with a kindness and concern for others.
Even when he was consigned for what became at the age of 17 to a life of care and constraints as a mental health patient, he was still the same little brother who would aggravate them, make them feel guilty and at the same time consume them with his affection and his larger than life zest for life.
I knew that Johnny once. But when he disappeared behind a locked door 22 years ago until the day he passed, he was Jonathan.
A loved son, but also the focus of my life. I was his father. For me, amid the great fun we had, there was the dull pain of a futile struggle to get him home.
When my wife died, I promised her I would do that. It never happened. His final resting place was in all our hearts and I take consolation from that.
My eulogy as a grieving father, spoke of Jonathan’s great zest for life and the importance of the dream he had, that one day he would live with me.
I said something about every life having the possibility of being exceptional, but I wish it had been Johnny I knew.
I only glimpsed that Johnny through a prism of grey responsibility.
It really hurts to survive a child, but it totally sucks to be left with the narrative of a grieving father.
I hope when the pain recedes and my memory softens, I’ll get to know not only Jonathan but Johnny.
Have you survived one of your children? How did you cope? Comments welcome.
Nathan Goldberg is wowdewow CEO
Related posts:
Tags: deathbed promise, eulogy, father's responsibility, final resting place, grieving daughters, grieving father, life in care, little brother, loved son, mental health patient, painful narrative, son's funeral
