The confluence of horrific news of a recent tractor/trailer and bus crash (on Canada One Highway in Manitoba and Highway 5 last week which caused 15 deaths and 10 serious injuries) with the annual Father’s Day observance on Sunday, June 18 (in which I celebrated my own father who tragically died 60 years ago in a car crash) has led me to reactivate this blog which has stood dormant for too long. I have been active on Facebook and email, however, and want to share some of my musings about this confluence as well as the wise words I received a few months ago in correspondence from an old friend from my elementary and high school years in New Rockford, North Dakota. What comfort and guidance I received from Phyllis–and what profound words to pass on to anyone who wants to comfort a hurting person – JUST BE THERE FOR THEM!

First of all, this was my Facebook post for Father’s Day:

On this 67th Father’s Day without my own father to honour, I’m thinking especially of George Wellington Moore and the 13 short years I had to enjoy being in his presence as his daughter. The loss of him in a car accident in September 1956 was the single-most tragic happening in my life. I’m grateful, though, for the many memories of the intensely loving, caring and uniquely present father he was. This newspaper clipping is the last photo my family has of him. I think he brought home at least one golf trophy a year, plus teaching my sisters and me and countless others to golf. I also cherish the two photos my mom took on New Year’s Day 1944 when Dad first introduced me to a golf course shortly after I had started walking. It was a rare snowless time in wintery Maddock, North Dakota and he just couldn’t resist hitting a few golf balls before the snow came. RIP Dad! I wonder if you’ve been golfing in heaven!

(Sorry about the lack of a copy editor for that article! The spelling makes me cringe!)

The above two photographs my Mom took on New Year’s Day 1944 shortly after I had learned to walk, when Dad first introduced me to a golf course in Maddock, North Dakota.

My younger sister Doreen with Dad and me (circa 1954) when Dad had taken us along on a business trip from our home in New Rockford to his hometown and our birthplace, Maddock, North Dakota.

With news of the above-mentioned recent traffic accident in my mind, as well as thinking of and praying for the many families and friends of those killed and injured in that tragedy, I recalled my intense period of mourning 60 years ago after my father’s fatal car accident. As a young teenager, my biggest concern was that none of my friends were allowed by their parents to attend my dad’s funeral, which still is a big blur in my memory. However, a group of them had come over to our house after school the day after his accident and just “hung out” with me on our back steps. I don’t recall what any of them said, but I do remember the hugs, how comforting it felt to have them acknowledge my sadness and to have my peers there for me. Here is how my friend Phyllis recalled that moment in her email 60 years later:

“Your dad’s death in an auto accident was also a shock to the community.  Some of us went over to your house and sat on the steps with you.  No one could think of much to say but how sorry we were.  Good thing we didn’t know any adult platitudes.  You seemed to be pleased we were there.  I think that was the first time I realized that just being present could be a comfort to a hurting person.”