The Morning After - life forever altered

The Morning After
my dad died

October 9, 2004
It was still dark out as I silently climbed out of bed.   Mom, my daughter and niece were all still sleeping soundly in the California King size bed.  I needed a strong dose of coffee and my morning nicotine fix.  I tiptoed to the kitchen so I didn’t wake the full house.  Still in a daze I stood impassive at the counter as the water dripped through the coffee grounds staring out into the darkness of morning.  I walked out front bundled up in a warm jacket with my steaming hot coffee.  Sitting down on the ice cold concrete step I lit up a cigarette.  Inhaling the smoke I wished they would make the pain cease.   I heard dad’s voice, “I thought you promised me you’d quit smoking?”  To which I replied in my head, “Give me some time dad, you only just died 12 hours ago!  I’m sorry, but a disembodied voice in my head chastising me for smoking isn’t what I need right now.  Ok?” As if he was going to answer.

Gazing up into the indigo twilight sky the stars shone brightly above me.  Shadows were cast by the overhanging tree limbs on either side of where I sat.  A small gust of wind picked up twisting my hair above my head.  A smile emerged on my face acknowledging the hug of wind that felt like a “hello, I love you and am with you” from dad.  The starlight streamed down on me in those pre-dawn moments coloring my skin white with a blue glow.  Observing the blue hue to my skin seemed appropriate.  Pointing out the familiar star formations to myself it suddenly struck me that my life would never again be the same.  Today was the start of a new life.  A life that will not include dad.  Thoughts wafted thorough my mind like soft, white clouds on a summer day.

Dad made a relatively easy transition into spirit.  Slowly comprehension started sinking in that dad is gone from my reality.  Those of us left behind, no matter what, miss those that go before us.  Dad asked us not to grieve for him.  It wasn’t for dad that I grieved in those early morning moments.  I grieved for the loss of his presence in my life.  I took dad for granted as a permanent fixture not understanding the impermanence of this world in which we live until this moment.  The tide of feelings surging within me was a mixture of emptiness, hurt, bewilderment and feeling utterly lost.  Sometimes life really sucks.

At 35 I looked out at the twilit world through the eyes of a child having just lost her father.  A lifetime of memories rushed passed in mere moments ending in tears and unanswerable questions.  Faces of loved ones that already passed flashed on the movie screen of my mind:  Grandma, my dog Buttons, Pappy, Mr. Horne, Badger then finally Dad.  Why?  Why did Daddy have to leave us now?  I expected at least another 10-20 years with him.  Did I ever really know the man that was my father?  He kept so much about himself a mystery.  Does it matter that I didn’t know everything about him?  What will life be like without dad?  When will this overwhelming emptiness stitched together with an unbearable ache end?  I wondered if it would ever end as I sat wrapping my arms around myself to hold the shattered shards of myself together.

Rocking back and forth on the cold step I sunk deeper into myself because there were no other arms that could hold me.  How can I be filled with such overwhelming pain and sadness that it oozed out of me flowing onto the ground where I sat, yet at the same time feel like a gaping hole was ripped out of my chest along with my heart?   My mind searched for comprehension, but found none.  It was a paradox of sensation:  full and empty at the same time. They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but the pain is mind numbing.

Will I survive this pain?  It didn’t feel like I would survive, but I knew the pain would lessen with time and I would indeed survive.  I survived grandma’s death, then Pappy’s, Mr. Horne’s and recently Badger.  That thought only made me cry harder.  Would a day come where I would not remember dad’s face?  No.  I resolved to never forget dad’s face.  I etched the warmth of his smile and ever changing eyes of blue into my mind.  When I close my eyes, his face smiles at me five years later.