May You Rest in Peace, Dad

 My father died this past week. It's pretty tough to lose anyone while locked away in prison, but it is especially hard when it is a parent. I'm no exception--it's been a very tough week. 

Having a loved one die while one is incarcerated leaves one feeling incredibly powerless. My dad and I were, sadly, not close, but he's my dad and I Ioved him. I'd like to be at his funeral, to grieve and process the loss with family. Unfortunately, I am in prison where I have to observe my loss from afar, like an outsider who is informed of the death of some passing stranger.  
Processing grief while separated from others who knew and loved my dad is hard. It's largely a private grief. But I don't really grieve alone.
I'm very fortunate to have a community of men around me who care about my grief, who have offered their sympathy, a listening ear if I need it, and comfort and support through my loss. They've been amazing, and I'm truly blessed. While I cannot grieve with my birth family, I have many brothers (Christian brothers and fellow college students) around me who make sure I know I'm not alone. I'm fully aware that many other prisoners do not have that same experience, instead suffering silently and alone. 
It's so strange to experience such strong love and support in prison. Most other prisoners either do not trust others with their grief, or they simply suffer in silence while other men awkwardly distance themselves, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry for your loss" just doesn't seem like enough. 
Over the years, when I've learned of others who lost a loved one, I have waited for the right time and then asked them to share cherished or funny memories of their loved one. It's a way I've found to help people process their grief, while honoring their loved one. 
This week, someone offered me comfort by reminding me of the comfort I had given him a few years ago by listening to him talk about his father who had been murdered. I had forgotten what I'd done, but it meant a lot to hear it meant so much to him.
I don't have many recent memories with my dad to share, but I have some fond memories from my childhood. My dad was an amazing roller skater, and he used to take us kids roller skating with him. I loved watching him skate backwards effortlessly, something I never learned to do well. I also fondly remember camping and fishing trips with Dad, collecting baseball cards together, and my dad as a practical joker. 
I'll never forget a joke he told us that sounded like an outrageous but true story. It was so engaging and really "got us going," until he hit us with the punch line: "And there I was, just pulling her leg, and pulling her leg, just like I'm pulling yours." I also remember when he snuck around our tent while we were camping, just waiting to scare the pants off of us. Until one day he didn't scare us. He didn't say a thing. The next morning when we woke up, it wasn't Dad's tracks we saw, but a bear's. It had snuck around our tent, while we yelled, "Dad! We know you're out there! You can't scare us this time!"  
My dad was kind, could talk for hours with strangers, and worked hard his whole life. I wanted a close relationship with him, but for some reason he couldn't offer that. Still, I loved him, and I'll miss him dearly. 
I love you, Dad. Until we meet again...may you rest in peace.