Hello, Hello, Hello!

The title of this post was my Dad's normal welcome to any entering his house. He died twenty-two years ago today and I have been sad all day today thinking about him. Anniversary's don't normally 'get me' too much, likely because life is pretty busy most days and I am mostly trying to keep my head above water. Not sure why today was different, but it was. Could be because my Mom has had a long year recovering from her stroke, or because my brother Greg continues to battle cancer, or maybe I just have a wee bit more time on my hands now that Lolo is potty trained. It doesn't much matter. When sadness comes, it comes. 

I am not trying to run from it though. I actually want to sit down with the feelings ( hence the blog post) and feel them all over again. That stinging sensation the heart feels at the loss of one so dear, the tears that don't want to be wiped away  because they show the world what the soul is feeling. At forty two, I want to miss my Dad. I want to wish once again that he had met my Fred, or danced with me on my wedding day, or held my children proudly in his arms. I want to hear him laugh loudly and see him smile broadly. I want to grieve him all over again today, like it just happened.

One memory has hovered about me all day. It was late in the day in the middle of Winter, when I must have been about twelve  or thirteen years old and walked up to our attic to watch my father working on a scaffold plastering a ceiling. The radio was playing in the background and he was busy working, but must have sensed my need to talk ( and teenage girls always need to talk) and so he climbed down for a while and we sat together and chatted. In the course of that conversation we happened upon thoughts of his Mother and I asked a simple, innocent question of him : "Dad, Do you still miss your Mom?" He shook his head yes, and then said nothing for a while, and soon after he began to cry, and then so did I. 

I didn't cry that evening for a grandmother I never knew, but for my father who still ached so long afterwards. I couldn't understand it that day,that lingering grief, though I thought of it many times trying to unlock the mystery of how it could still hurt.

 I do understand it now, from the inside out. I understand that it actually hurts more- not less with time, but I also know that the ache that grows instead of shrinks is a lasting memory of love. Its is a memory I want to keep until we meet again.

And  yes, by golly, today- I still miss my father. 

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.