New territory, before and after

March 7, 2016

First blog post of the year, and it is March. How time flies while ever so standing still.

 

The lines are becoming more solidly before and after. No longer “before diagnosis and after” but before Dad’s passing and after. There was so much to do after your death, Dad. It frustrates me, a wordy (ok even though rarely pithy) being, that I can’t articulate every aspect, struggle, fight, and policy we had to overcome to put down the business side of death and move on to the mourning side.

 

And what infuriates me is that I can never seem to explain all the “what” is- but it’s headache filled bureaucracy most days.

Part of the issue is having to do all this while mourning such a loss as the death of a parent, all while we still want to focus on Mom and her Alzheimer’s. So many friends of my age said “I don’t know how you would have done this WITH a job too”. And I didn’t- it was my job.

 

Plus, this landscape was so utterly foreign. You were always my guide in the realm of financial and legal. Let alone big changes in life, you and Mom were often steady guides. And now there is none. And now I stand without you both. I stand with myself and my memories of you.

 

Maybe this is part of the rebirth after death. Not so much that I know a deeper loss in life, but rather it has fully, and rather expediently, christened me in adulthood. In one phone call, one night of you lying on a gurney, our roles swapped at a vibrant 65 and days into 29.

 

Today, just two years later, I am settling into my new routine, including a new job, a new commute,

All seems new.

Then something may send me back- remembering how acute this loss is- how permanent and still fresh. Tonight’s moment came with a beautiful, simple letter from a friend reminding me that they hold my loss in their heart.

 

And I’m back. Knowing full well this sorrow and sobbing place. My body could throttle into the continuance of ordinary life, but my soul still needs these remembrances. These releases.

 

I will always wish for more time, to know what you’re thinking about on this world event or that piece I read, to still have you here. And, I will forever be grateful for the time we did have, for the love you instilled and the memories we all made,

 

I miss you, Dad. I miss you, now and each tomorrow too.

winter sullen wonder days

I ran into my high school history teacher today. Moseying around a Barnes and Noble, I looked up and excitedly said her name.

We chatted for a moment when she asked how my family was holding up. Friends now on Facebook, she knew of my Dad’s passing. I immediately said what was on my mind: “Oh, how I wish I could call him up and say “I ran into Myrna’ “!

My teacher, one I had the pleasure of having for three out of four years, shared beautiful wisdom with me. “Oh Kate, he is there. Talk to him. I lost my father 10 years ago and I still speak to him”. And I agreed. I said, “I know he  laughs at me still!”

***

Later this evening, I replayed a song I heard live on Monday night: “Winter Song”. I doubt anything could more aptly describe this holiday season for me. It is a mixture of deep sadness but small joy for the season and the future to come.

I will honor your memory, Dad. I will find my way. Love will find a way…I am just not sure how.