This Is When Everyone Moves Forward
Today was my Dad's service. Funeral.
It is not blazing any new territory to say that the dissonance is severe. Most people, even those who truly loved him, will pick up their lives tomorrow and move forward. I will too, for that matter. But every impulse I have goes along the lines of "Wait! We left my Dad behind. In the past. We need to go get him."
My kids will never know a Grandpa. The losses keep layering over themselves. I will never get another big bouquet of Valentine's Day roses from him. I didn't get a chance to ask him how to handle a stressful work situation. I can't mail him anymore books.
I can't do this. Except that I have to.
It is not blazing any new territory to say that the dissonance is severe. Most people, even those who truly loved him, will pick up their lives tomorrow and move forward. I will too, for that matter. But every impulse I have goes along the lines of "Wait! We left my Dad behind. In the past. We need to go get him."
My kids will never know a Grandpa. The losses keep layering over themselves. I will never get another big bouquet of Valentine's Day roses from him. I didn't get a chance to ask him how to handle a stressful work situation. I can't mail him anymore books.
I can't do this. Except that I have to.