Grieve

It’s one month today since Dad died.

I hate the fact that time keeps moving, that every passing day takes us further away from him. I feel that time itself is betraying him. How can it be that he will only get more distant? That he is never coming back? I see photos of him when he was well (or looked well) and feel absolutely shocked that that man, that Dad is gone forever, and not only the sick version of him I knew during his final months.

I hate that time is moving on because it means everyone else is, too. It means that this journey, this grief, once over-crowded with spectators and well-wishers and even drama seekers, is increasingly lonely. Flowers and meals are no longer delivered daily to our door, and in truth we don’t need them anymore. Friends care deeply, but grief is so personal and so unpredictable that they often don’t know what to say, whether to ask questions or avoid the subject, whether it’s okay to joke yet. Most people have continued with life as usual, the earth continues to turn, and we are left to the quiet tasks of reforming our lives; packing up his clothes and mementos, sitting quietly in a house that rings with memories, trying to sleep.

My life will never be the same again. I miss my dad constantly. And though I know I will someday find a “new normal,” I am nowhere near it today.

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4 thoughts on “Grieve

  1. I can hear your own father’s eloquence in your writing. Your family has such a beautiful gift of creativity. Thank you for being vulnerable with all of us. I’m so sorry for your broken heart. I love you so much.

  2. Delynn, I have the same reaction when I see a photo. I was looking through some boating pics two days ago, trying to find one to use to illustrate a Cheeto outing/picnic for a charity auction item, and there was Dick smiling at the camera. I guess I haven’t quite gotten my mind around the reality that he is gone.

  3. Delynn, you don’t even know me (I was in HCC choir with your Mom and Dad). I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your pain. Your Dad not only left you a legacy of love and respect, his artistic legacy of writing lives on through you. Your writing is your heart.
    Sue Muller

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