NOTE: I wrote this post last night when I did not have access to the internet.
It is 11:30 p.m. on August 16th and I am having my annual visit with my grief. My visit started late this afternoon as I took my mother to Stillwater. We spent the evening wandering around Lowe’s looking for the perfect paint color and carpet for her family room addition. This was a coping trip. We were supporting each other…holding each other up…just as we did seven years ago…the night my dad died.
Some years the anniversary of his death comes around and I realize after the fact that the day has come and gone. Then I have a year like this one. The grief does not roll me into a ball on the bathroom floor like the first year….but it is ever present. I am aware of his legacy in my life. My “Daddy” memories flow swiftly and with great abundance. I am caught off guard by the quantity that surface.
Why this year? I don’t really ask the question. I have given up questioning how grief works….when it will appear…..how long it will stay..…how I will react.
It seems to be softer now…...my grief. Still deep. Still honest. Still authentic. But much softer..…at least around the edges. I recognize it now and it does not surprise me when I feel it approaching. Tonight I greet my grief and welcome it to come inside and sit with me…..and it does. I think back to the night my dad died. I process my regrets and forgive myself again for not being more assertive in the ER…for not asking more questions…for being nice. My grief did not bring tears tonight. Maybe that is what feels softer. Instead my grief brought memories of my fathers love. Memories of that ornery twinkle in his eye…..of the way his shoulders moved up and down when he laughed….of how he shifted his weight from side to side when he walked.
My family has experienced many things since my dad died. High school and college graduations.....marriages.....births.....life has continued. It is as he would want it. He would want us to continue on…..to live. And so we shall.
It is almost midnight. My mind correlates the clock to the events of that night….”and then this happened…and then they arrived….and then we were told there was no hope….and then I held his hand as he drifted from us.”
I am content in my grief.
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