when d’s sweet dad died a few years ago now, i told him that the grief he would feel was hard to explain. grief is not tidy nor is it linear. it has prevailing winds that sometimes are at your back and sometimes are right in your face, pummeling you. i told him that it will take him by surprise – moments when, all of sudden, grief – in all its glory – arrives and slams you, taking your breath away.
and there are other times. when grief kind of sails along with you. it oddly softens the blows of other hurtful things – for, grief asks, what it is that could be more hurtful than the loss of someone you love. and so, by sheer comparison, grief puts all in perspective.
i told d that, though he may be pounded by grief on certain days, they will not be the predictable ones – not the birthdays, not the anniversaries of hardships that befell columbus (or another beloved), not the hallmark-card days.
instead, they will be the regular days, the days in which you are just living and doing and suddenly the light will line up and the sounds will echo and the scents will waft by and you will be – figuratively – or not – on your knees.
tomorrow – merely 83 years ago – my parents married. to say that i am grateful for that day would be an understatement. where – on this earth – would i be without that day, i wonder.
i can feel them around me. some days most definitely more than others, but always, always, there is a presence that informs me somehow.
in these times – absolutely dreadful days when our democracy is being assaulted by our very own government – i can feel their horror, the kick-some-ass my dad-the-ex-mia-ex-pow is pissed enough to wish for, my mom’s be-kind philosophy railing against this vile establishment.
and i totally miss them. i wish to have a conversation with them. i wish they could tell me that everything will be all right. and, with the schisms in their own family thanks to this heinousness, i wish they could be here to comfort me the way only families can comfort each other.
no matter what, the grief of missing them – even after fourteen and eleven years – is sometimes kicking my butt.
but love prevails.
despite any perceived boundaries that different existential planes may present.
it’s hard to explain, but it’s there.
and its prevailing winds stay with us.
*****
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