My father died on April 24. People keep telling me, "It gets easier." For the record, I still don't think it does.
Sure, life gets back to normal. It has to. After about a month I figured out that while it wouldn't do to keep bursting into tears every time I felt that sad twinge, I couldn't fight it either. I learned to tip my hat.
And yet, even as I try to follow my own advice, there's no big hand to take this particular pain away. This level of loss isn't a singular thought which can be swept or flushed.
It's like air. Always there. Part of me and in everything around me. In some odd way, I feel like I need it; this emotion which ebbs and flows, but keeps me connected to him all the while.
Last night I went to the movies with Big D (hubby), Miss M. (age 10) & Spidey (age 5). We saw Avatar - The Last Airbender. Great movie. Highly recommend, despite what my friends posted on my Facebook wall about "scathingly bad" reviews.
Total side note, but I feel the need to confess that I smuggled a Grande Chai Skinny Latte from Starbucks into the theatre, despite the sign which proclaimed "NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINKS ALLOWED!!" Yes, two exclamation points and I did it anyway. I'm a rebel. I know.
When I got home, I got such a tidal wave of sadness. (No, not because of the whole chai latte smuggling thing.) This may sound trite, but I was thinking about how much my dad truly loved movies. Even when he was married and his wife / my step-mom / aunt (long story) never wanted to go, dad went to the movies by himself. He saw every movie as soon as it came out. Well, almost all. He avoided those which contained what he called "gross humor." Sorry Something About Mary.
Anyway, there was just something last night about seeing a movie which I know my daddy would have really enjoyed... and knowing he would never get to see it. It just made me so sad. For him and for me.
After the kids went to bed, Big D poured me a glass of Cabernet and we sat outside in the warm air by the lake. I let the tears pour too. Really sad, but somehow okay.
Not sure why I am sharing all this. (Then again, I do have "overshare" in my title subheading.) I actually meant to start with an intro about my dad and segue into the hot air balloon story which I promised a couple of weeks ago. Guess you'll have to wait a wee bit longer on that one.
I guess if there's a "moral to the story" it's that we can only control so much. We feel what we feel. Despite my prior post, sometimes it's good to just let it happen.
A friend to talk to and a glass of wine doesn't hurt either.