In some ways, my father’s life feels like we were living it together only yesterday. His death feels a million miles away though. Neither of these statements is really ‘true’. The truth is it has been years since my dad was living a normal life with our family. And the truth is he only died one month ago.
Anniversaries are so hard. They stone wall with facts. (It’s only been a month, and tomorrow it will be over a month.) Yet, they also conjure emotions that aren’t always compatible with the stone wall facts. Anniversaries for marriage, birth, death, life and achievements– we keep them all. But today, I’m faced with the fact that it’s been a month, when it feels like we were just sharing our breakfasts days ago.
I guess I’ll get used to my half-orphan-hoodied-ness. I think it’s different to make peace with it, when your shared experiences were so happy, so pure and so good. In the meantime, I’m carrying on, as my dad would want me to. I’m working, cooking, painting, dancing, and exercising with a freedom that has lacked for so long. But the best part is sometimes, when I’m most quiet, I can feel my dad near again. I couldn’t feel him for a long time. And now, I can look at something, knowing my dad would love that, and over my left shoulder, I can almost feel him tell me, “I do.”