For years he and we struggled and then months and then weeks and then days, every hour caked in the mud and torment of dementia, then countless other maladies. Still, throughout, we fought what was inevitably to come next. And then it came, the leaving. All in one breath that no longer sucked in any life. I know that Daddy is free. Free to move about this world or the next without chains or pain or struggle. Just fluidity and air and energy, born of the earth and released above it. I'm happy for that. In my head, I am finally at peace with his transcendent and triumphant flight, serene in the knowledge that his energy exists somewhere, unburdened by the weight of suffering.
So why am I afraid to look into the eyes of shared grief, of shared loss? I feel it may dismantle me, tear me from the solid ground I've finally found after days and days of mourning and raging. I'm afraid to talk to you because you knew him. And you know what the shock and finality of losing him means to us. He's really gone. We will never hear his voice again or his laugh. We will never feel his arms around us or his hand holding our hand. We will never be able to pick up the phone and call him for advice or a kind ear or applause or a compassionate word.
Home will never be the same again. Will it?
He was our tree, standing tall and strong, always there for us to grip onto. Even as he withered and grew weak, even as he needed our support to hold him up, our love for him gave us the strength to help him stand. How is it possible that he still made us strong? But he did. And as crazy as it sounds, there was always hope springing eternal at our feet, swirling about in dazzling lights... whispering promises of a miracle. How tantalizing hope can be.
With Daddy gone, so is our center support. Yes, today I do feel like we are shocked and shaking saplings, bending thin and weak around a gaping hole in the earth. Now is the time for solitude, time to grieve and shake and heal from the shock, time to soak up the sun that still rises every morning, that still permeates the clouds and warms us, time to hear the birds and recognize how beautiful their song still is.
They say time heals. I do believe that. The winds of time will brush the earth, fill in that hole with new joys and new memories. We will eventually stretch out our strong arms and reach for each other in mutual love. The roots of our shared memories are still there and will join us. Perhaps it will be enough to weave us and bind us together. My hope, then, is that we will stand, woven as a new tree, one that our children can cling to.
