Reflecting on what this project means to me -- dealing with the process of "letting go"

One of the reasons I set up this website was to help me prepare to "let go" of my father, Dean Hochstetler, as he neared his death in late October. I was experiencing what those of us who work professionally with bereavement issues would call a case of "anticipatory" grief. There was no way around it, and it had become somewhat familiar territory recently -- I had lost my mother when she died from cancer only six months prior.

Yet, the father-son relationship is unique. As most sons losing their father might feel during such a time as this, I found myself in a state of reflection and life review, assessing how my father - either directly or indirectly - significantly impacted my self-identity, values, theology, patterns of conflict management, choices regarding vocational pursuits, and many other aspects of my life. I could trace some very significant twists and turns in my own unfolding story, as well as in his. He was a force to be reckoned with, all my life, and it was not always very easy for me or my three brothers, either, for that matter. But there was a lot that I appreciated, as well. My father, who (in the words of one retired seminary professor) was "the dean of the Mennonite exorcists and maybe the only one" led a life filled with paradox in many ways, and thus, so was mine.

All this took me back in my mind to a very deep level of self-examination, counseling, and critical analysis during my hospital residency in Clinical Pastoral Education in Kalamazoo, Michigan 1995-96. This was a time of major crisis - when my first marriage of 14 years was falling apart. But this also laid the foundations for a very fruitful turning point in my life. By this point ten years later, I had also come to perceive a certain circular dimension to this journey I was on. I had long recognized, and appreciated, some common themes which characterized my relationship with Dad and approach to life. I had firsthand experience observing the trajectory of his own evolution, how his personality mellowed out, the hard edges rubbed off - some now called him the "gentle giant." All this was fertile ground for reflection - especially as I deliberately carved out some space, and slowed down my pace of life in order to spend some time ruminating on the meaning of it all.

At the same time, some of my friends who expressed care and concern for what was going on certainly knew me, but had no experience of my father, no family "context." I wanted to enable some of them to better comprehend how this experience was affecting me and the rest of my family.

In addition, I was acutely aware of the major impact my father had on so many other people in our community, around the nation, and the world - and I knew these widely scattered friends would also want to know what was going on with him. My mother Edna had died so she could not tell them or send out email anymore. One brother was very busy with his family issues in North Carolina and my other brother was extremely preoccupied as Dad's primary care giver (alongside my father's sister, a retired RN) and was basically providing assisted living in Dad's own home. Another brother had died in 1997.

So...I felt very challenged to somehow "get it all together." For pete's sake, I'm a well-trained hospital chaplain -- I should know how to do this! Part of what I specialize in is helping others deal with all this sort of agenda: Intuitively, I knew it was in my best interests to make the most of this important time, to face my resistances in "the process" of letting go, to go deep and deal with any "unresolved issues," and share the things that really matter - so there would be no regrets later. In short, I knew I had to get on with what I encourage others to do at such a time as this, as hard as it may be.

However, and this is a significant point, it's one thing to do this professionally - and quite another to do this personally. I remembered the psychic and spiritual energy expended going through this process when my mother was dying - the results that were actually quite rewarding. But my relationship with my father was very complex and different than the one I had with mother, there was a lot more "agenda" and I wondered if I had it in me...

I had finally started with some postponed interviews with Dad using my DVD camcorder, something I knew I "should do" for the sake of posterity, my grandchildren, etc. But he was somewhat resistant doing very much of that because he had grown very "tired" by this time. Dad referred me to some things he'd already written, or tapes that had been made - plenty of material to be researched later on, he said. However, I knew he always loved telling stories, and in fact, after we started in, it sort of energized him for the rest of the day. We were both relaxed and at ease. I'll never regret doing that, as I did pull out some great stories, but realized in the process that what was even more important was to deal with my own - and how his story impacted mine.

So, after exercising sufficient courage and carving out the aformentioned space and time, I composed my thoughts, and wrote -- surprised and shocked at times by the amount of tears streaming down my face. I spent some time one-on-one with my Dad again on Tuesday evening (October 24) and invited his responses. Though he was already growing weak and laying down already, tired out from a "long day," he was still alert and listening well. Dad expressed that he was completely ready to "let go" and felt very much at ease about things, and about us. He had dealt completely with all his "unfinished business" - turned over the reins in every aspect, but I was still barely getting to where I needed to be. I think he knew this process was important for me - to deal with what was happening, as a whole generation was phasing out, and the next one just now really coming into its own.

I needed to express how much I appreciated what he had given me - both a nest, such as it was, and wings to soar. He had, by the life he modeled, given me courage to explore some uncharted waters, just as he did in his own way. I was able to tell him, once again, that I truly loved him and appreciated his spiritual strength as I described the impact he had on my own life (even in the midst of very strong memories about all the very good, the bad, and the ugly which we both knew about and had gotten beyond.) It was a powerful moment -- and I was finally completely free to "release" him. What a gift that was - almost a week before he actually left us! Dad even said it was OK to share in this venue the piece I'd written. And that, my friends, is what started this blog - powered by a moment of GRACE.

The power of that exercise I undertook, helped me encourage others to vicariously experience a little bit of the same - to submit written messages we could relay to my father while he could still appreciate them. And enjoy them he did during the week before his death - along with some phone calls that flowed from long-time friends as a result. It blessed the family so much, as well, to read these messages that he received. You will find some of them in the October archive, as well - the ones for which I had permission to share publicly in this venue.

My father, Dean Hochstetler, was not a proud man, or an egotist. He was actually the opposite. When he discovered resistances, he did not imagine himself as the healer, he patiently kept pointing people to "Christ As Victor." While he was indeed a force to be reckoned with, he taught me, and many others, so much about empowering others. My hope is this blog will honor that legacy of transformation, healing, and hope for a full-filled life. Life rooted in honest self-assessment, redirected to appropriate the power of the One whose own life, death and resurrection can and does deliver us from all sorts of evil -- and sets us on a journey towards peace and wholeness.

Creating and managing this project has been extremely fulfilling and therapeutic - a way for me to privately grieve in anticipation of his death, and to publicly mourn and celebrate his life - both before and after his "graduation." Now, after his death on October 30, 2006, and the memorial service yesterday (Nov. 5) it is my hope this site will continue to function as a good place for family members, friends, and acquaintances around the world to post their own perspectives on my father's unique (some say "extraordinary") life - to document special memories, stories about how he made a difference in their lives.

As blogs like this go, if you want to read chronologically, start at the bottom and work up! (Other than his photo and obituary, the latest submissions are posted first.) Keep checking back, because a video copy of his memorial service (an extraordinary experience in itself - hardly possible to convey in words just yet) will be converted to digital format and made accessible here by mid-November. As time and opportunity allow, I hope to include some of my father's own autobiographical writings.

This might eventually become a book -- readers and contributors here could have an influence in how that takes shape! So, please don't be afraid to share your own thoughts, if you knew him as your family member, your neighbor, your welder, your friend, your teacher, or your spiritual counselor - in whatever capacity. No statement is too small to include. No respondent too "ordinary." No need to be flowery - just heartfelt.

For those who have never tried posting on a "blog" before, there are three easy ways for you to add something here:

1) you may click immediately under the line below this - on the "(#) Comments" hyperlink - with your mouse and start composing in the box on the page that comes up. I will then be alerted and transfer your piece to the main blog -
or...

2) you can click on any "comments" link below anyone else's posting, if you want to leave a comment regarding that person's specific remarks - it will remain in the comments section -
or...

3) you can send your thoughts directly to my email address at: Clair.Hochstetler@gmail.com

Clair Hochstetler