It’s Sep 30th and I am "home"
It’s the first time I've been here since my father’s memorial service.
He would be 80 today.
But, he is not here.
I noticed it as I lifted my own suitcase in to the trunk at the airport.
I'm realizing a little better what life must be like for my Mom, now.
His things are here.
The garage, the Studebaker model, the chair he napped through Donahue in and the chair he used when he was sick, the crepe myrtle, the aviary, the nail kit, the piano, the organs.
But his touch, his spirit is missing, it’s as if the music in our home has died.
Reality is easier to ignore at a distance.
I didn’t expect it.
I thought I would sense him here, feel his presence more.
What I am struck by, as I get used to him not being here, is the reminder that life is not about our stuff.
It is about what we do while we have breath.
And he did a lot.
And, how strong and brave my Mom and brother have been to continue breathing here without him.
4 comments:
What I am struck by, as I get used to him not being here, is the reminder that life is not about our stuff.
Thanks for the reminder. Death is a horrible thing...the finality of it is the worst. I can remember when my uncle died my grandparents lived for a long time in disbelief...he must be alive somewhere, what if it all was some big mistake...some horrible dream?
One of my toughest thoughts is my parents aging...whew almost guaranteed to bring me to tears each time I think about them getting old.
Good post, Janet. Great thoughts ... I've been "there" too.
I had the same sort of feeling when I went to my grandparents house a year after my grandfather died. Weird to have all his stuff around and yet not him.
Eloquent. Poignant.
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