The Year After
The smell of freshly cut grass fill my nostrils. Sunlight dancing across the pages of my journal. A pen in hand, splashing ink on it.
“Sitting on the grass one quiet morning, sans the angry humming of the grass cutter and the sound of the broom wrestling with the fallen leaves littered around the grassy knoll, I’ve finally found myself alone with the memory of my father,” I wrote.
It’s been a year since that fateful morning when I awoke to the news of his death. It felt like a sad re-hash. I would have loved to laugh at the irony of the situation but twas reined in by the pain.
Everything seems to be glued inside, quite unwilling to come out.
Save for that single moment a year ago when I had cried in abandon, I still find it difficult to grieve.
Photo © 2009 Sasha Manuel
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That’s one of the strangest things that I find about this situation. We all shared the same experience of loss – and yet, the way we experience the loss within differs widely.
In any case, I hope and pray that you do find the comfort, strength, and peace that you need.
Take care.
* Shai Coggins´s last blog post.. Look of the Week: 050509 (Delayed!)
Sasha,
The death of a parent is one of the things we all have to endure. My father passed away in 2000, almost 9 years now, and yet his memory is still fresh. It still pains me that he is gone, in a better place. But the missing and lost opportunities still haunts me. Why could he not have been here and visit us in Oz? Why could he not have been here for the birth of my 2 other kids? Why??
Good news is it does get easier with time. We will never completely heal, but maybe that is part of the grand plan. I read somewhere that we should just be happy of the fact that we loved him and he loved us, and that’s why we are missing him so much. Love, in the end, is all that matters.
Cheers!
Sis: It’s been a trying thing to do. Thanks and you take care too
Kharen: I’m sorry to hear about your own loss. I do hope that in time I will find the answers to my own questions. Thanks