Grief

Right now I'm remembering the emotion grief. I learned, last night, that the mother of one of my friends has inoperable brain cancer. And this information sent me reeling down my own portals of grief, portals that are permanently etched in my being now. I feel so much love and sympathy for my friend, because it is a road that is lonely and scary.

My father died when I was 27, the same age as my friend. And I can pin point the moment my life changed forever. It was the phone call at 6am. "Hey dad!" I answered. "This isn't dad" said my sister. "You need to come home. Dad died today."


My father's death was significant not only because I lost a parent, but because it was the first time that grief was introduced to my life. And that abyss, the deep, echoing tunnel where there are simply not enough tears possible changes you. It forces you to struggle through your dark places, to work your way out through the webs of sadness and anger and denial. Finding your way to the other side of grief takes work, and you will be another person once there.

That said, the other person that I became was the new me. It took a lot of time to feel even somewhat normal. I walked out of that grief no longer a girl but a woman who now knows what grief is. And I'm a little more jagged, a little less romantic, but still me. The grief part eventually morphed into something else. Now five years later, it's acceptance and appreciation, and occasionally, its a very sad moment.

During our trip to Maine this summer we finally spread Dad's ashes where he requested, in Bracket lake in Northern Maine. He loved to fish there more than anything, and now his ashes are a part of that lake forever. And though that is sad, its also beautiful at the same time.





I miss you Dad.