…and in others, it’s a bit like Prometheus, chained to a rock and waiting every day for the birds to rip his liver from his chest. Only these birds are ripping out my heart.
Tomorrow will be three years since my dad died. Six weeks ago, I started feeling this huge amount of dread. Three weeks ago, it went away. I basked in the departure of those emotions. Wahoo! Pesky grief. Even upon hearing about my good friend’s dad dying, a co-worker buddy of mine who has had his share of woes thrown upon him this year. Even today, talking to him, hearing about the funeral, hearing about his father’s last moments, I felt distance. Three years of distance.
Then, five minutes ago, I realized it was three years ago, exactly, almost to the hour, that I got the call to come home. He was dying. The unavoidable loomed large and dark and high and impassible. Those moments and hours that allowed the tiniest light of hope to flicker, still, no matter how daunting it seemed. To no avail.
Like a thunderclap, a summer microburst, fucking grief. It will pass as quickly, but the drenching is thorough.
You’ll get more distance with more time and more crises — but holidays, anniversaries and birthdays are the most difficult. My thoughts are with you as you get through this one.
*hugs*
Sometimes knowing it gets easier is itself bittersweet.
i think of you often, my friend.
xo
Big hugs….Hopefully it will get easier in time. I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you healing…
Please know that I’m there in spirit, arms open wide to give you a big hug
I wish I had something great, insightful, and thoughtful to say. But I don’t. I really suck at the great, insightful and thoughtful stuff. And everyone before me has said it better than I could. So I’ll just say the obvious stuff:
I love you, and my thoughts are with you today, and always.
{{{hug}}} wish i knew the right words…
Time, in time it will get easier. I swear. I know.
Hugs