Since my father passed I try really hard to not allow these overwhelming feelings of sadness envelop me during random moments. It's so strange how a song, a picture or yes even the monumental birth of my father's grandson born to his only son ( who we are hoping will be his name sake) can stir up this cavalcade of sadness I forget I have buried inside.
I know these feelings are not individual to me- and that I am just one of millions of people who confront death and the loss of their loved one on a daily basis. And yet- it feels so utterly isolating- – no one really wants to confront the dying process head-on- because it would mean acknowledging that all this stuff we accumulate, titles we take on- money we amass in the end- mean absolutely nothing- and that we're all destined for the same inevitable ending.
I keep ruminating over my father's last weeks of life- and my insistence on keeping the mood light and humorous- I didn't want to be maudlin- I didn't want to tell my father how much I'd miss him, I didn't want to have those end of life death bed conversations because I wanted him to feel like this was not the end- that it was merely a new better chapter and that we'd have so many more opportunities to play cards, watch old movies and that he'd once again whip up all my favorite dishes which I'd inhale — I honestly don't think I'll ever be able to eat chicken soup again without feeling this suffocating sense of sadness.
I was told I had to wait a year to feel my father's presence, because it takes a year for the soul to settle. I am waiting for something, anything. I think–and this is just my not believing in anything side emerging- that perhaps you see signs that you want to see. You can manifest signs. My father was a maudlin kind of guy- I remember always telling him- it couldn't possibly be true that this was it- that there was nothing after this. And I still can't say that I accept that- even though- I've felt nothing from him since he passed over.
So I continue to play the game of life and create situations and opportunities that will distract me from the inevitability that one day I too will die. It is such a sobering thought- and honestly until my father died I never realized (or allowed myself to realize) that everything we love has a shelf life. I desperately want to go back in time- to a place and a moment where I didn't feel death's hot breath beating down my neck- marring every happy occasion with its sinister reality.
I think of this post Jennifer Perillo posted on facebook and today it is making me feel just a tad better…
“Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall is on loop this morning. Such writing brilliance from S&G. “So, I continue to continue, to pretend my life will never end”. There is so much truth in that line alone. It doesn't end, it just takes on a different form, one we can't see or hear, but always feel.”