Two years on

It has been two years since my father died.  Some days it feels like a moment; other days like a decade.  There are days I don’t think of it much–and I feel like I’m moving on–and then I feel a jolt of guilt.

Many people said the second year of bereavement would be worse than the first.  It has not.  It has been easier.  I have forgotten a lot.  I was terrified of forgetting, but I guess forgetting is the only reason that time heals…as you get distance, you forget the details, good ones and bad.

As a working mom of two and a medical wife, life has sometimes been too busy and stressful for me to focus on grief.

People said there would always be a hole; that things would never be the same; that the pain would never completely be gone.  That has been true.  However, now having lived through it I also see how people can learn to live with a big part of their soul missing, and that the missing piece does not prevent them from being happy again.

The tenth anniversary of my dad’s death is also the tenth anniversary of my PhD defense.  It’s funny; I remember my defense very clearly.  I’d bought a suit the day before.  I never in my worst nightmares knew what would happen eight years later, to the day.

I miss my father.  The grief and loss are still present.  For the most part the acute pain and the horror are not.  Things that bothered me before it all happened (e.g., being passed over for promotions) seemed like small potatoes for a while, but I notice now that they’ve started to bother me again.  I still miss my dad and a part of me still looks for him on the street, when I pass the old bus stop.  I’m afraid to ever move away and leave behind the places that he was.   I still wonder what happens when we leave this world; whether I’ll ever see him again.

I just remembered how he would keep some cloves in his pocket to freshen his breath, and how they would break into little pieces and shake out of his clothes.  Little memories like that bubble up from time to time.

And that’s the way life is.  Terrible things happen, and somehow life goes on.

 

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