I hadn’t thought about it at all that day, not from what I could recall. In fact it had been a few days since he was upon my thoughts. As I lay in bed and couldn’t go to sleep not really feeling anything. Once I closed my eyes and haunting images of our last days with him entered my mind. The visuals were so real and as they each appeared my heart ached, my body wanted to express something.
The last time I hugged him goodbye and said “I’ll see you in Wichita” to the Friday before when quiet tears fell from my eyes as he held my hand to the moments I sat with him that morning on his day of death. The images were clear, they were felt, and I couldn’t hold back what my body wanted to happen. The crying grief came rushing out and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t keep the hurt in any longer. I felt as if I couldn’t control the tears, my brain or my breathing. It hurt. My heart and my body.
In the darkness of my bedroom I couldn’t even speak what the issue was to my spouse. I couldn’t say it, for if I did the hurt would come full force, and I’d have to admit that the grief was here. It wasn’t going anywhere and it needed to occur although I didn’t want it to. It’s been six months, why now? What sparked this episode of unwanted heartache?
I felt alone, although I knew I wasn’t. I prayed to God it’s good that God knows my prayers without words, for I couldn’t really speak. Coming and going were tears of missing the man I called Dad.
I didn’t see it coming and I still feel remnants of it within me today. Swollen eyes, downcast look upon my face, not enjoying much in my life at the moment. No Dad wouldn’t want this but it’s here, for now. It will get better I know but for now I will just sit in my grief and let it happen. It is part of the grieving journey I do believe.
Grace is a gift,