I cannot tell you how many times each week I have the thought, I need to call my mother. Outside my window, the trees are putting out buds. All over the city, puffs of cotton candy pink blossoms strut along branches, wanton against blue. Spring is here again, my first without my mother.
I am so chronically sleep deprived that I rarely dream, which perhaps made all the more vivid the dream I experienced a few months after my beloved father died: the phone rang, and there he was. Clear and real. I'm shaken with grief just writing this, even though many years have passed.
Yes. That feeling that the lost beloved is out there somewhere almost within reach but not quite. Sometimes I'm sure that I can reach him if I just try a little harder, think of something I haven't yet thought of. Sending love. Let there be joyful firsts too.
I am so chronically sleep deprived that I rarely dream, which perhaps made all the more vivid the
ReplyDeletedream I experienced a few months after my beloved father died: the phone rang, and there he was. Clear and real. I'm shaken with grief just writing this, even though many years have passed.
Yes. I'm sorry.
ReplyDeleteI think you will find yourself sighing a lot during the first year. It is so hard.
ReplyDeleteI know that feeling. My sister died in November, and I still keeping picking up the phone to call her, and then I remember that she's gone.
ReplyDeleteYes. That feeling that the lost beloved is out there somewhere almost within reach but not quite. Sometimes I'm sure that I can reach him if I just try a little harder, think of something I haven't yet thought of. Sending love. Let there be joyful firsts too.
ReplyDeleteAnd everything you wrote is captured in the stillness of that photo which is at once achingly intimate and terribly silent and still.
ReplyDeleteThis first year is so very hard and the tears will come at unexpected times. We are here with you.
ReplyDelete