Loading...Home again. Back to normal. Who knew “normal” would be the world burning down? All of our restlessness of the past 3 months has collided with all our anger from the past 50 years. I hear sirens as I sit here.
It’s strange when you lose someone that you start to think that when things happen, when the world changes again and again and again, they won’t know this thing happened. Their world froze in time the second the breathing stopped and yet here I sit listening to sirens and deleting advertising emails from my inbox for the best Father’s Day gifts.
There are no more fathers in our lives. No more step-fathers or grandfathers or fathers-in-law or father fathers. No one to buy a tie for anymore. It hits me at times like that, times like when I’m standing in my bedroom that has been the same for 15 years except for that “Ask Dr. Science” mug on the dresser that wouldn’t be there if he were still alive.
After my grandmother passed in august of 2018, I remember going through her house, looking for mementos that I may want to keep before the estate sale. It reminded me of the old version of Wheel of Fortune when you got to go shopping after you solved the puzzle, before they realized that cash was a better prize than an overpriced washing machine. I had that feeling again walking through my dad’s house. All I really ended up with was the “Ask Dr. Science” mug. I can’t remember when I bought that for him, probably a father’s day present. I do remember being quite proud of myself because the back of the mug said: “I know more than you do!”
That motto embodied my dad. Not only did he think he knew more than you do he probably did. But the other thing that embodied my dad was that he would teach it to you if you wanted. My dad had several acts in his life: high school science teacher, sailor, camper, photographer, guitar player, banjo player, ukulele player, hot air balloon enthusiast. But the one thread that he carried in to every act was he was a teacher. Never before since perhaps my husband Eric did an avocation so perfectly line up with a vocation.
So here I am, home again, where everything is so familiar yet so completely changed. Grief sucks.
