I’m not very good at feeling feelings when they are feelings I don’t want to feel. But today, instead of hiding under the covers, I strapped on my runners and plugged in my headphones (luckily they came with instructions so I knew what to do) and walked down to the graveyard. I sat down on the grass next to my dad’s grave and listened to music that he shared with me when I was a child. And I cried.
I thought about our relationship and got angry with him for not loving me more, for not being able to push past his fear and open himself up to all of the wonderful things life has to offer. And I thought about the frustration I felt when he wouldn’t let me be open to it either. I thought about the silence between us and how he was always such a reluctant hero to me.
Then I thought about how lucky I was to have a father who was strong and protective, who would’ve died or even killed for me. I thought about our shared humour and realized that the majority of my memories are of us joking about things that no one else understood. I thought about how we barely spoke, but we laughed a lot. I thought about the love of music that he instilled in me. And that the only time I ever saw him cry was when his sister died; he sat for hours with his headphones on, rocking back and forth in his private pain… just as I was doing at that very moment.
When I got up, I walked through the graveyard and read every headstone. And I didn’t feel so alone in my sorrow. Everyone loses people they love, so many experience this kind of grief (and much, much worse) far too soon. I am lucky that I had nearly two years to prepare myself, that I was able to sit next to him for the last seven months, that I held him through his final moments, that I got to watch the light go out in his eyes and know that he was okay with it, he was ready.
As I said goodbye and walked away, the tears started to fall again. I accept that he is gone. I don’t think it’s unfair that I lost him because life and death has no reason. I will always be thankful that I was gifted with a father who was strong and solid and good. But I miss him. That silly fool of a man with the twinkle in his eye.
