Friday, February 25, 2011

I Hope This Gets Easier

Funny thing about someone dying is that you forget sometimes that they are gone.

I know I have.

I always called my Dad on Wednesday mornings, to catch him up on what the kids were doing, see how he was.  I always waited until about 11:00, gave him time to go through the mail at work since he'd be annoyed with me if he was busy when I called. 

I called him other days of the week too, but Wednesday was always for sure.  For the last year and a half, Wednesday was chemo day.  I knew he probably wouldn't feel up to talking afterwards and wanted to catch him before he went.  I wanted to tell him I love him and make sure that he knew I was thinking about him all the time.

I went to call him this Wednesday, like I always did.

Then I caught myself.

I know that things like this are going to happen.  I was as prepared as I think I could have been for his death.  It wasn't sudden.  It wasn't unexpected.  In some ways, it was a very welcome relief for us all because he was in so much pain. 

And death is one of those final things.  No going back.

Sometimes your brain and your heart play tricks on you though, and you fall back into old patterns.  You pick up a phone and start to dial a number before you realize what you are doing.  And then you suddenly remember that there isn't anyone on the other end of the line anymore.

I hope this gets easier.

1 comment:

  1. It does get easier. There are moments now for me, 16 years after my dad's passing that I find myself almost forgetting that I can't ask him what he thinks the funny noise my car is making means, or that I can't tell him about my Chinchilla's latest exploits. But I can still hear his laughter sometimes in the wind. I can finally be happy for the years I had with him without crying over what might-have-been. It does get easier.


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