Jul 02, 2006 13:28
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Dear Papa,
I've realized those I've known who've died in the past six years or so were my own age or slightly older. And the deaths were tragic--extinguishing hundreds of years worth of futures or (in Shawna's case) leaving behind a husband and toddler.
I feel strangely un-equipped to mourn yours. There is no blinding, jagged flash. No raw and bloody grief.
But maybe, just maybe, that's what mourning really is--or was supposed to be--all along. Sad. Deep. Subtle.
I won't grieve because you couldn't stay longer. We're not immortal, and any living soul on this planet who almost reaches 90 had a full life, indeed. It was your time.
I grieve for myself, as I am selfish. I grieve for my mother, who was not prepared to let you go. I grieve for my grandmother, who cared for you til the end and will never truly recover from your loss. And I grieve for my brother, because he is a sensitive and beautiful soul who feels things accutely.
I will miss you.
I love you.
Goodbye, Papa.
That is the hardest part.
Goodbye.
Love,
bryn
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