writeonthebay

One week.

In Uncategorized on July 10, 2010 at 11:44 pm

A week ago today I buried my father. The last few days have been – weird. As much as I was overwhelmed by the stacks of boxes strewn across the house and the half acre of grass yellowing in the intense heat and the lack of food in the fridge, it all did me good. Wrestling the concrete unpleasantries of a disheveled household gave me a break from crying and worrying about my mom and looking into all those earnest faces telling me how sorry they are.

By today most of the boxes are put away, the sprinkler and the rain have watered the lawn, and the fridge is well-stocked with farmers’ market booty. We had banana pancakes for breakfast and slowed down. I walked around the house that my father will never see. I wondered what my mom would be doing on her first Saturday night alone.  And even at a big party at a big house on the water this evening, I felt pretty darn lonely. I miss my dad. I miss my far-flung friends. I’m sad, and I guess I will be for a while.

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  1. I feel for you Bridge. I lost my father last October and here I am in the city I grew up in yet most days I feel like a stranger. I just moved into a house that my father will never see and watch my kids play in the sprinklers and wish he was still her to see them. Every night I wonder what my mom is doing, I can only imagine how she must feel after 52 years of marriage and now she is alone. Most days I miss him, but I do have to admit it gets bearable, not easy. Life gets busy, kids, get sick and things have to be done so we move on. That is until something reminds us, like just the other day my 4 year old Nicolas looks out the window as we are driving by the cementary where Dad is buried and says to me, “Hey Mom, look there’s a lot of people there today, maybe we should go see PAPA.” and then your heart breaks all over again. I am sorry you are going through this, I know the feelings all too well.

  2. Ah, B. What a sweet little picture of your new life you gave me in this writing. Thanks. And this far-flung friend misses you too.

  3. Those feelings will be with you for a long time. I can tell you that for sure. The only comfort is that they will become less frequent over time. Allow yourself time to grieve. Remember that you have friends, even if they are not right around the corner. Reach out and talk. Hug your children and your man. Things will never be the same, but it won’t be like this forever.

    Finally, when you have an opportunity read this. It’s about losing my dad. It won’t give you any great insight, but it will let you know you’re not alone.

  4. Thanks to all of you — such kind thoughts are always welcome. I am trying to just let myself experience whatever I’m feeling, which isn’t always sadness. I wonder if I’m confusing those around me. You’re right Dame. Talking and hugs are always good.

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