My Dad died years ago, but today I was momentarily immobilized by sadness for some of what he experienced in his lifetime. I would like to ask him questions about that time, and of course, now I can’t…and there’s no one left who knows the answers. And that finality bowls me over with grief….my eyes sting, my throat closes up, but I can’t cry. I know this serves some greater purpose but I don’t know what it is and I must admit it really makes me mad. If I could cry this out then it might not sneak up on me like it does.
There are stories that only he knew, and I’ll never hear them. There are things that I could only say to him, and now there’s no one left to say them to. I guess I would like to know that he didn’t carry all his pain for all his life, that he was relieved of it at some point. I wish I could ask if he knows that we wrote the lyrics to Into the Air Junior Birdmen behind the new pantry when we remodeled the kitchen in the old house. I wish I could apologize for being a pain in the ass for so long and give him the credit for finally reaching a point where I could make him proud. Steve and Alex haven’t moved past Dad’s bad behavior about 18 years ago and really can’t help me with this because of their own feelings. The rest of my family isn’t speaking to me. So that leaves God, and I’m so mad at him about this that I can’t properly ask for help dealing with it (He is totally used to me being mad. He already knows I need help and I knowI’ll get it.) I’m depending on the Spirit to advocate for me. 🙂
I know I sound like a basket case. I assure you, I’m not. I think grief makes us all a little nutso. But this is real and a little overwhelming at the moment. I am going to the Lady Lake Relay very early tomorrow morning (I want to get there before the Luminaria are put out) and I really don’t want to have a crack up on the Relay track. 🙂 Because we can’t have The Wordstress looking anything less than composed.