Father's Day has come and gone. My father died just a little more than a month ago. But, he was lost to me many years ago, really. Still, there was no physical separation. We were blocked through the mist of his brain injury. How do you let go when someone you love is behind a veil looking out at you but cannot remember where you live?
I spent so many years burying everything about my Dad that when he finally passed it was all too heavy to unload. Slowly, slowly bits of this massive grief peel away in strange places, sometimes silently, sometimes publicly. I think that if you constantly put on a happy face everyone around you assumes you are fine. I try to keep moving but inside there is turmoil and roiling waves of flat out terror. Trying to process sadness in the midst of a joyful life is a balancing act. Being a mother doesn't afford blocks of time to work it all out. But that is a gift. Nothing sad can be held onto for very long when there are rocks to be gathered and jokes to be told. As Yehuda Amachai says, you must love and hate with the same heart. And it is also this way with grief. It all happens simultaneously, one emotion folded over on top of another, seamlessly pressed together to fuse new layers of the spirit. And this is my life today.