For a split second tonight, I could not envision her face. I was sitting at the dining room table as she came to mind like she often does when I'm sitting alone. It created enough of a reaction that my chest began to pound and my breath quickened, frustrated at having to take so long to upload an exact image of her in her chair, clinking her fork through her front teeth and driving me crazy in the process. It was like my mind was feverishly scrolling through a Rolodex of 26 years with her in order to bring back to life one still portrait in the hope that a single memory could, once again, temper my sadness.
Today makes for five years since she's passed away. In some ways, it seems longer and in some ways, it seems very fresh. I don't know what is the accepted or normal way of perceiving time related to someone's passing. Is it supposed to be that time has flown by or slowed down? I'm not sure that there is a right answer.
In an email written to a friend years ago, I explained the feeling of coming into her bedroom once all of her personal belongings were gone:
"...He [dad] bagged and boxed up most all of mom's belongings, cleaned out her clothes in her closet, leaving only a sparse picture frame resting on her dresser. Mom had all but been physically erased from my eyes. At that moment, there was complete silence, a void that nothing this side of heaven could fill. Walking around the room and hearing the stark sound of my footsteps, I opened her closet door with just enough force to gently swing a metal hanger, resting naked on the pole. Everything was gone. Up until then, she had been there.. a still snapshot of how things were, as if she could just come in and pick up where she left off."
But that's the beef I have with death. She won't be back. That is the most unnatural feeling, by the way. Man was not created to die. That wasn't in the original set of cards which is why it is foreign, confusing, dastardly.
Regardless, I have a hope that extends beyond these circumstances. Hope that says there are reunions and restorations to come. And yet, I have to be honest and accepting of the undercurrent of sadness that still sweeps over me and calls to me, you'll miss her all your life.
Regardless, I have a hope that extends beyond these circumstances. Hope that says there are reunions and restorations to come. And yet, I have to be honest and accepting of the undercurrent of sadness that still sweeps over me and calls to me, you'll miss her all your life.
I miss her as well. And obviously I know the pain of grieving for a parent. I still think that Dad is going to come out of his office any time now, a piece of paper in hand, having donesome research on something that caught his interest.
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