Monday, March 23, 2009

Muddle, Muddle, Toil and Trouble

I keep thinking that this is a complicated life I lead. I mean, I guess really and truly, it isn't. I get up, I get my daughter ready and to school, I entertain the Sutt while I take care of the house, the shopping, the laundry, the dogs. I take out the trash and I sort through the mail. I take snacks to Bellamy's class for snack day and I try to get to the Y as much as possible. I look forward all day to seeing my husband when he gets home. It sounds busy, but not at all complex. Yet I find myself thinking, "I'm just so damn TANGLED."

I miss my Dad. It's been one day shy of ten weeks since his death and it still just seems WRONG. The reasons why I feel that way seem to shift a lot. Here lately it's been bafflement that a life--a voice, strong hands, a brilliant mind, a kind spirit--can be reduced to nothing but an insurance policy and a wooden box full of ashes. Fifty-five years of hard work and always trying to be the best person he could be, and there's nothing left. He's just gone. Sure, I have memories, but I'm learning that memories don't really amount to much. They are like a story--you can't see them or hold them or own them. They are fleeting thoughts that develop holes over time. It's heart wrenching.

I think when I combine all of these emotions that come along with losing my Dad, that's when everything gets tricky. "Busy" feels a lot more complicated when it's washed in "sad" or "angry" or "scared." It's harder to make dinner for your family when you can't make yourself forget that your Dad went the last month and a half of his life without eating a single bite. Living surrounded by military bases is tough when the planes flying over every twenty minutes or so are a frequent reminder of your Dad's love of flying and all things aviation. I can't even go to church for sanctuary because we were praying The Lord's Prayer when he died, which is a staple at any church I've ever attended. I JUST CAN'T ESCAPE.

I'm grateful for all that I have, all that I am. But that doesn't make me stop wishing things could be different.

1 comment:

vanilla said...

I love you.

You are always in my thoughts.

I know words cannot take this hurt away. I utterly wish something could take this away for you.