Over My Shoulder, I Still Look For Him Walking Back To Me
I’ve always thought the way life stops for nothing, not really, not ever, is one of the saddest, and yet most beautiful parts of life. Strange, but beautiful.
I remember that after my dad died, I waited for something, for anything, to stop. To just wait a minute, for our sake. But life was bustling, and people everywhere failed to notice we were grieving.
One thing I’ve learned, overwhelming and consistently since my dad’s passing, is that I don’t know, that I can’t expect, when I’ll miss him terribly. When I’ll miss him so much it hurts to breathe.
Some days I don’t. Miss him terribly, I mean. I feel his absence always, like a piece of a puzzle lost somewhere, that you know exists, it’s somewhere, but you can’t find it, and so the scene can’t be fully complete, not without that piece. But it’s somewhere, you know it, and you’re sure that one day you’ll discover it buried underneath a couch cushion, behind the fridge, in a long-forgotten pocket of your long-forgotten favorite jacket. Some place you would have sworn you had previously looked but hadn’t seen it. I miss him always like that.
But some days the grief is manageable. Some days the grief still feels unreal.
I move about my life and I notice I’ve grown accustomed to him not being here. I’ve grown accustomed to being unable to share my defining moments, unable to call him on a whim, to wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly. I’ve grown accustomed to the grief that sometimes sits so quietly in my chest that I feel comfortable. That sometimes sits so quietly that I forget for the briefest of moments that I am living without a man I wanted to know forever.
There are easier days, to be sure. Days it hurts less.
And then there are days I feel a tightening around my heart that is so unexplainably painful I don’t even want to move for fear of flood gates opening. It happened a few nights ago. I scared myself I cried so hard. I think I scared Chris a little, too, though he never would have let on. He just held me until I regained my regular breathing. Until the sobbing slowed, and then, finally, after what felt like hours, silently sputtered to a stop. He held me so tightly I couldn’t possibly feel alone, but I felt so incredibly broken, as if somehow days, months, possibly even years of repressed grief were suddenly declaring themselves in need of urgently exiting my tear ducts.
I can’t ever predict when it will hurt again, or how bad it will hurt. I only know that it does. I only know that his leaving is like a scar that still throbs unexpectedly just when you think it might be truly healing. I carry it with me always. I carry him with me always.
It’s hard to explain. Loss, and losing. Hard to explain why an old wound still feels like a fresh gash after twelve years time. It’s hard to explain why one moment I’m completely fine, watching an episode of Buffy* and laughing, and the next I’m lost in a sea of my own making, Chris rocking me gently back and forth, back and forth, cooing sweetly in my left ear that it’s going to be okay, that everything is going to be fine.
Some days I forget. That life goes on. That nothing stops for you when you’re hurting, and that, somehow, that has to be okay.
Most days I remember. I remember that always there is life, to replace, to renew and replenish. And it’s amazing.
(This post inspired by this one.)
*Yes, I’m talking about this show. Feel free to tease (Chris does), but I will maintain until my dying day that it’s one of the best shows ever written.
I completely understand.
Awwwwwwww - I just clicked on the “this one” link. :) Big Hugs!
Oh KA, big hugs to you. There’s not much I can say other than a good cry is a good thing . . . and so is Buffy. Buffy is FAB.
Aw, now you’ve gone and made me cry. But it’s OK. :) My heart aches for you in a way that’s good. Loss, even in its subtractive way, manages to link us all. It means you’re not alone.
The way “feelings” work, I’ll never understand. Sometimes they come slowly, sometimes they take you by surprise and there is no way of telling which way it is going to be next… but the good thing is, “feelings” are there to share and to reach out to each other. Sooner or later we’ll all go through this.
xoxo
Awww. Your post is so true, so very honest and rational too. And, I’m so sorry.
kerri i know exactly how you feel. i lost my dad 11 years ago and there are many days i still cry about the loss. i’m sure the upcoming vow-taking and knowing he won’t be there to walk you down the isle doesn’t help. at least for me that’s one of the worst things about not having him here any more.
and the fact he hasn’t met C and won’t ever meet his grandchildren or see me grow up. i ask myself, would he approve of how i live my life? would he be proud? all i wish for is one more day, 24 hours to say a proper goodbye, smell his aftershave, let his huge hands hold me and just be his little girl for a few hours again… the pain will probably never end, kerri…
BUT we wouldn’t hurt like this hadn’t we experienced this amazing daughter-father-bond and love. the fact that we can grief about our dads for more than a decade only means that we were so lucky to be loved so much that the loss of this love still hurts after such a long time. makes sense? i hope so :)
sending you a big, huge hug from over here!
The important thing is that even if the world doesn’t stop - YOU DO, that way you can discover that long lost favorite thing in a jacket pocket you haven’t worn in so long…
I love that.
The important thing is that even if the world doesn’t stop - YOU DO, that way you can discover that long lost favorite thing in a jacket pocket you haven’t worn in so long…and love it even more all over again
I love that.
Lovely post.
Life does have a way of going on, doesn’t it?
Such a beautiful post.
I’ve always mourned the fact that life never gives you a chance to catch up when you’re at your most vulnerable.
yes, i have tears because that is it exactly, you have described it so perfectly and so beautifully … thank you ..
and … ahem … it is one of my all time favourite shows and is it embarrassing to say that i own each and every season :)
xoxox
What a beautiful post! You did such an amazing job of conveying some really tough feelings!
And…ummm….I love the Buff.
This post is amazing. You have found the words that I couldn’t. Thank you for this.