Yesterday I broke. I sobbed like I did when I was a kid, hyperventilating until my fingers tingled. It felt nonsensical and selfish, because even in death our relationship still flowers. Who he was set an example for me, taught me that I should be well-loved, and laid a solid foundation upon which I’ll be able to make many uncomfortable decisions with more relative ease. We had so many good times with Dad, especially in these last two years. My heart is so full, which is why I did not expect to be sad.

But I am sad. I want everything to stop until I am ready to go on. I know these feelings and have followed them to the sticky, inky pit they inevitably pull towards. These last two years have given me chances to practice acknowledging sadness without surrendering to despair. However, even with that practice it’s still difficult to walk this well-trod path and notice when I should stop.

Today we’re driving back home. I don’t want to go back. I know Mom is a strong, smart woman with loads of people to back her up. I know I am my parents’ daughter, and I have all the resources I need and more. I know these things, but I feel empty even as I feel full.

I am determined to continue on–right now I just don’t want to.


Published by

e lewis

I'm a bibliophile with a love of social justice theory living in the Pacific North West trying to figure life out.

2 thoughts on “Loss”

  1. This terrible ache and deep pain called loss, is that part of living that makes no sense. I too lost a dad and more recently, my beloved husband. No one can tell you how fast or slow to go. Grief is individual and unique to the one who grieves. I have no magic recipe or map, but I offer you great sympathy and prayers. I have been carried but the promises, that I am never alone and will be held close to the heart of a loving Heavenly Father. Walk slowly, sit and ponder memories, hope often, love deeply and know in each step, there is God’s grace.

    1. Thank you for your kind words and understanding. It’s so true that grief in incredibly idiosyncratic, but it’s easy to forget that. My condolences for your losses as well.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s