Thursday, January 13, 2011

Anniversary - Two Years

1931 - 2009

1997 - 2009

I have been meaning to write; but sometimes, I just cannot. It is not writer’s block. It is avoidance. I do not desire to get to the heart of myself at times. I absolutely dislike crying. I will avoid doing so if I can.

The last two years held plenty of crying – grieving the loss of my dad. And then, my Mother first fell on the anniversary of my Dad’s passing. She then fell again several weeks later in which she fractured a lower vertebra and ultimately lost her independence. In the midst between the two, I lost one of my cats, Calvin. His life ended suddenly and quickly. It was a terrible time for me as he hid his sickness until the very end. I missed all the signs. As a result, I felt so guilty about him for the longest time.

Today marks the two year anniversary of my Dad’s passing. I almost could not stand to see him lie there slipping away in his sleep when the Morphine kicked in. He told us all he loved us. And, he spoke personally to my Mother. And then, he slipped away into sleep. I certainly could not stay there and watch him pass away. I will never forget the screaming going on in my mind while watching him. And, here I am crying again.

It took me two years to process my grief.
Two years to internalize all that was said and done.
Two years of fight and flight – ‘dealing with’ and ‘avoidance’.

During these two years, I came to peace with Dad’s passing,
peace over Calvin’s circumstances and passing,
peace about Mother and the fact she’ll not return home.

I miss my dad. I miss my mother’s presence in her house. I miss the constancy of knowing I had a childhood home to return to and that my folks would be there – especially over the holidays.

The one constant in life is change. Changes are inevitable. I know that there will be more changes in this year. But, that doesn’t mean I like them – I never did. However, I am coming to an acceptance.

Let come what may. I will no longer fight. I am at peace. Yes, I still grieve. Yes, it still hurts – tremendously. But, as of this moment, I am at peace and all is well.

And, that is a good thing. Right?