Random Waves of Pain
You see what I did there with the ode to America, The Beautiful? It’s a heavy title with a wink behind it, which is kind of like my dad. Most things came with a wink. This whole metaphor is a stretch, so I’m going to move on.
The thing about grief is it never really goes away. Sure, the edges get rounder, but it’s always there. And sometimes when I’m watching unknowns soar on The Voice or parents and their kids in a random commercial, I just FEEL things I don’t like to feel.
It’s been six years since he died, 8ish since he was diagnosed and everything changed. None of that makes living without him any easier, especially as my life continues to grow and get richer and more complex in all the ways I wish I could talk at him about. Yes, I said “talk at.” Because when I get the way I get sometimes, I don’t care to discuss, I care mostly to unload. He took me and all my daily dramas on so well.
I miss that. I miss him.
And when I see a photo like the one attached to this post that has SO MANY THINGS RIGHT about it. The Whitney polo he wore with swag, the old school bench-seat SUV, the tan…it just cements that we’re down here making memories without him.
So, until the end of time for me, random waves of pain it is. And I’d rather have that than have not have had him at all.