Today is one of those days when I have become unmanned by the very fact of his absence. It gets easier after a while, and then along comes something that trips you up and makes you realise that there is a hole in your life that someone pretty damn important used to occupy. The grief you think you’ve worked through suddenly throws you a curved ball.
So I sit here, with memories trickling down my cheeks as I find myself missing the wisdom, love and caring that my father brought to my life. And it hurts that I can’t have that chat about work and how to approach things, that the years of experience have gone and I can’t get access to that one thing that might make sense of complicated issues. That I used to resent (mightily) having to go and help him out with things that had just become too much in the later stages of his life now shames me and I wish it didn’t. I know he felt he was a burden and hated how his frailty stopped him from maintaining independence, yet he never once complained. Maybe he did, in the quiet hours, but never to me.
It’s a different country now when you’ve lost that person forever. Treasure those hours where you are on call. Once they are gone, you’ll never have that problem again. One day, you’ll be sitting as I am now, just wanting one more hug, feeling very sorry for yourself.
Missing you days are the hardest.