I still remember the morning you died. I can’t even begin to estimate how many times, in the last 6 years, I have pictured myself waking up to the phone ringing. I still think about how much I wanted to call you the night before. It was late, 11 pm, and I wanted to let you sleep.
That memory alone breaks my heart. I let you sleep only to wake up to you being gone. I miss you Dad. I miss you more than I could have ever thought possible. There is no relief from that. Time doesn’t heal the wound of grief. What lingers for me, after all these years, has been regret and clinging to the memories. Grasping for what little aspects I can still hold on to. Sadly even my memories often betray me.
I was cleaning my daughter’s room the other day. She is the one I was pregnant with when you died. You always wanted a granddaughter. I found out I was having a girl about 2 weeks after you left. How sadly ironic is that. The thought still makes my throat leap into my stomach.
While I was cleaning her room, I found your old car visor with Tweety Bird on it. It still holds all your contents inside. When I unzipped it, your glasses fell out. I started to cry as I had totally forgotten you wore reading glasses Dad. Six years later and I couldn’t even remember that. How many more memories have I lost in such a short time?
I held them in my hands and turned them over again and again. Holding them up to the sunlight and looking for fingerprints didn’t help either. There were receipts in the visor as well. It was like holding a time capsule in my hand of right before you died. I ran my fingers over your signature.
You always wrote with all capital letters; just making the lower case letters smaller. I also found tickets to a local concert we went to together. It took me a minute to recall the memory, but I found it. Grief never takes a break Dad, never.
I put all your belongings back in the visor. It isn’t something I can display or hang in memory of. It will just sit there in the cabinet waiting until the next time I “discover” it. Your CDs are there too. They sit next to the visor. CDs aren’t really a thing anymore like they were when you were around.
You can just get a streaming service or listen on your device. On my hardest days, I will YouTube some of your favourite songs. They remind me you aren’t so far away. Yet, even on my best days, I never forget you are gone.
Paula schuck says
lovely post Kristen. Sending huge hugs. I get this totally. I miss my mom often and I think of all the missed things. These are the things that break my heart. Missing Paytons grade 8 graduation. She would have loved that. Missing seeing Ainsley grow into such a beautiful little girl. Missing seeing us or missing mother’s Day or the picnics we would’ve shared every summer. I don’t think I’ve forgotten that much yet but it’s those little things like your dad’s glasses that trip you up. Sometimes I feel her nearby mostly when we’re outdoors and I see Robin or a butterfly or something like that. Anyways big hugs.
Randa @ TBK says
Hugs Kristen, your father would be so proud of you 🙂
MyBitsandBleeps says
The Art of Writing – you do it so well. My heart goes out to you; I know the pain of losing someone you love. Hugs.
DRB says
Your Dad is very proud of you. I miss my best friend. I think of him often.
Ann BAcciaglia says
Beautiful post written by a beautiful woman. Grief is a funny beast. We never know when it is going to come and overpower us. Hugs to you. Cherish every memory. Love you xo.
Suzanne Rudge says
Oh wow, what a beautiful piece Kristen. As heartbreaking it is to find these memories of your loved ones, it is equally beautiful to have them back for a time. You have me calling my dad in about two minutes, as soon as I hit enter. Thank you for the reminder of just how special our parents are. Hugs my friends <3
jamie hall says
lovely post Kristen my heart goes out to you! Beautifully written!
kathy downey says
This post was so emotional for me,my heart goes out to you.
Neal says
I’m sorry for your loss, it is terrible to lose someone you love.
Piroska says
Beautiful post. I lost both my parents, many years ago, and while some memories fade, others are rekindled with a certain smell, or a familiar sight.
loucheryl says
Grief never takes a break…you are right about that, sadly. I’m so sorry for the loss of your dad. I lost my dad to Cancer when I was 19 years old. Whenever I hear a Simon and Garfunkel song, I immediately think of my dad. I can’t help it, I just do. I miss him every day.
salexis says
I know it’s not the same. But sometimes even when people are right in front of me I still don’t notice the glasses on their face… it’s part of knowing someone SO well that you don’t see the outside, because you know them and love them from the inside. 🙂 I know this post isn’t really about the glasses. Thank you for sharing these intimate moments and memories with us.
Elizabeth Matthiesen says
What a beautiful piece, it brought tears to my eyes as I read it. My parents have both passed as has my twin and my brother just last year, I miss them all and always will.