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by Anneke Haku

What I appreciated most right after Dad died, was having people around. I can be a private person, so it was surprising to learn how much I craved outside energy at the time. Simple gestures such as making me laugh or holding me close were what kept me going. The days following my father's death are hazy, but I do remember being very well taken care of.

If there was one thing I was never in danger of, it was starvation. My aunts brought turkey loaf and margarita mix. My grandmother made hot dish. And the day of my father's funeral I actually ate a Miracle Whip sandwich, something I hadn't done since I was five years old. This proves that food doesn't need to be exotic to be comforting.

I joke about the food, but it remains to be a prime example of what I needed at that point in time. A person in shock needs nourishment, both physical and emotional. When faced with tragedy, you revert back to the basic necessities.

What is harder to provide is the support needed in the years to come. You can't expect to have armies of hot dish marching through your house for the rest of your life, and eventually you do have to go back to work. And your support system, although still in place, widens its berth a bit. It was those days of adjusting back into daily life that I felt the most alone. I didnÕt want people to forget about him just because a little time had gone by.

For me it helps when people talk of my father. Those who knew him relate stories about him. Those who didn't know him, ask questions about him. My husband never had the chance to meet my dad, yet he speaks of him as though he is a part of our life. I gave my father-in-law a birding book of my dad's, and every time I see it out on the windowsill next to the binoculars I am touched and grateful. It comforts me that Dad, in some small way, can be part of their life too.

I know how awkward it can be to talk to a grieving person. I myself have tiptoed around the subject with others who have lost someone. Not wanting to intrude or say the wrong thing. Personally I appreciate it when people ask me about my father. It may feel morbid or nosy, but the reality is he is dead and I want to talk about him.

I want to tell you how he died, that he was only 47. I want to talk about how he loved to make pie even though he never ate it. I want you to know he wasn't perfect, that he refused to wear a seat belt and hated his job. And then there were the mornings watching the Today Show. He would sing along in his baritone voice, "Where in the world is - Matt Lauer!" adding a little popping sound at the end. Very irritating. He would have made a terrific grandpa.

Tears may come when I talk of these things, but I don't wish this to make people uncomfortable or discourage them from being curious. My emotions are pretty unpredictable these days. Even Oreos can make me cry. Did you know my dad loved Oreos?

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