A decade never felt so equally short and long as it does on this day. Yesterday in the midst of a random conversation, my husband asked the question “…I wonder what we were doing on this day like 10 years ago?” And it dawned on me. “This day 10 years ago was the last time I saw and spoke to me dad.” Chris looked at me surprised. I had forgotten until he asked the question. Don’t get me wrong I knew the morbid anniversary was looming ahead…I’d just lost track of it and all of a sudden there it was standing right in front of me.
Today is the 10th anniversary of my dads death.
Since that day, year by year I have made a habit of reflecting in order to move forward and continue to heal and grow and all that Oprah-worthy warm and fuzzy stuff. In the beginning it was painful and filled with tears and sorrow with some anger mixed in for good measure. But as time went on, it turned to sad and happy remembering. Recent years have been easier as wounds have mostly healed over and a little reflection has proven helpful, so moving on is pretty easy breezy.
This year is different. Which is unexpected quite frankly. I am finding myself confused. Why am I confused? I’ve worked through all this already. I’ve been very conscious of the threat of bitterness taking root due to not dealing with grief, so over these many years, I believe I’ve been diligent to work through it. So where is this bumbly confusion coming from?
I’m distracted. And a little lost. And I’m not really sure what to do with myself. This isn’t mourning. But it’s also not joy.
Life must go on though, as it already has. I have children to play with and teach and train. I have a home to manage. Breakfast, lunch and dinner needs to be made and the laundry needs to be done. I don’t have the luxury of just sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea for hours writing down my feelings. Not that I want to do that. Actually that sounds pretty agonizing.
But I suppose throughout the day I’ll just think and feel as I go on my merry business doing what I do every day.
I’ll try to stay present, enjoy my kids and kiss them often. Maybe I’ll tell them stories of their late grandpa as a way to honor him. I’ll thank God for His grace given to me and my family undeservedly. And I’ll try to remember the good times and continue to forgive for the less than pleasant times.
Who knows, maybe that’s the simple answer to my foggy and befuddled mind.
Maybe thankfulness is the antidote.