Jul 16, 2012
The unimaginable happened. He's gone, his body anyway, but not the memories, or the love. My mind tries to fight against his passing. What can I do to fix this? What can anyone do to make him not be gone? Time after time my brain hits the inevitable wall that nothing can be done, it's over, his life, our time together. No more memories will be created with him, no more shared experiences. The next time I see him I will be dead.
He was so funny, so positive and forward thinking. He never said an unkind word about anyone and was unfalteringly into making people feel loved and supported. He, like my dad, was the only other person that I could never imagine dying. Too strong, too focused, too powerful, too much a part of my life to imagine ever not having him in it. Yet he's gone. Stolen from all of us. Taken at a very young 75, with decades more to give to us and the world.
At first I was so sad, depressed really. Everything felt unstable. I couldn't count on anything, I didn't care about anything. Then the anger came. Why him? Why after he fought so hard and gave so much was he taken so suddenly? Then like watching a moving, acceptance. What else can come next? There is nothing left but the god awful acceptance of reality. His death has effected so many people and things around me. Like dominoes, things have shifted, people's lives have adjusted to his absence. A new normal is taking shape in spite of my fighting it.
New pictures have gone up around the house. Happy pictures, smiling faces, unaware and oblivious to the sadness and loss that was waiting just around the corner. I see him now every day, smiling at me. He seems further away now. The memories are there but they are duller than they were last week, or the week before last. With each new day the details of him become fainter and duller. I know how this works. I have lost enough loved ones to death to know how this works. It doesn't matter how much I fight against it, it's inevitable. He knew this too. This is what he didn't want to become, part of the past. Like his grandfather, he said, he will become like his grandfather was to him after his grandfather's death. He didn't want this for his grandchildren. He wanted more time with them, more opportunities, more experiences. With all his optimism, this was the one area that gave away his fear, his dread. He would become part of our past.
I am sorry, what else can I say but I am sorry.
The reality is this is what awaits all of us. This is death. This is life moving on in our permanent absence. In time even those who remember us will die and there will be nothing left but our descendants who only know us through pictures or grave markers.
Until then, I will remember him. Not as often as I once did but he was a part of my story and always will be. He, like my mother, I hope will be there waiting for me when my time comes. I imagine that for them there is no time as we experience it. We will be together again beyond the physical realm, eventually even beyond the memory of the living.