grief

My dad passed away two and a half weeks ago. I was with him through his brief fight against cancer. I was with him at the end of his life on earth. God was gracious through the process. And I have been grieving, but not without hope, and I am doing okay.

But this afternoon seems like a good day to call him. Caleb is napping and the older kids are downstairs playing. I was up in the kitchen, sort of puttering around, and I thought, I should call my dad.

I usually talk to him every week or two. It's been two and a half weeks. And it seemed like it was time to call him.

We have been down to Dad's place a few times since he passed away. And it has been good to be there. Just to feel closer to him.

But today I wanted to call him, actually talk to him. And I couldn't. And it was this whole fresh flood of sadness and grief. I haven't fully wrapped my mind around him being gone. I saw him die, I was with him when he died, but my thought patterns still say that today would be a good day to call him.

If he were alive, I would call him today. And I'd leave a message just to tell him that I was thinking about him. Or maybe he'd pick up the phone, and I'd tell him what we have been up to lately. And he would tell me what he has been up to, and I would ask him what day he's coming up for Christmas. The kids are singing at the Christmas Eve service, I'd say. And Priscilla's birthday party is the day before Christmas Eve, which is next Friday. So why don't you come up on Thursday, I'd say, and stay until Monday or Tuesday.

He'd say that sounded like a good plan. He would say he was looking forward to seeing us and spending time together. It's cold down at the shop, he'd tell me. And he'd ask me how much snow we have up here, and he'd check if our cars were running okay, and I'd tell him that they are.

There are things you realize after someone is gone that maybe you can't realize beforehand. If I could talk to Dad now, I'd say, don't wait to come up. Just come up now. Let us spend all the time we possibly can together.

That day we found out he had cancer. It was two weeks before Thanksgiving. I said, do you want to come up now? Come stay with us now? And I had this thought that he could just leave his truck. Right there in Moscow. And just come home with us. Because we didn't know how long he had. But no, he had stuff to do at his place. So I said, okay, well let's get ready for you to move up here, and spend the winter with us. And so that was our plan. And then that weekend, Caleb was teething and sick, and it was awful, so I figured it was probably good that Dad wasn't there, hadn't come to stay with us yet, because we were sick and such. And then at the end of that next week, I was going to meet him at the hospital in Moscow for his sigmoidoscopy, and he would come up and spend at least a week with us after that, although I was thinking he could just stay for months, that there was no need to go back to his place. And he did spend ten days with us then, but it was his last ten days. We couldn't have known that he didn't have longer.

But I wish we had been able to have longer. I am missing my dad so much. And I am wallowing in all the stuff that has to get done. Trying to find his will, that sort of thing. But my grief is there under the surface and it bubbles up now and then, and I miss him so much.

I have always taken a long time to grieve. It doesn't seem to hit me right away, not like it does for some people. It's just bubbling up a little now and then, in the quiet spaces between all the doingness. And I'm grieving today, a little more, because I want to call my dad today.

It would be a good day to call him. And I am overwhelmed with the realization that I can't call him today. And I can't call him tomorrow. And I won't be able to call him next week. And he won't be there for Priscilla's birthday... one of the only birthdays he's missed... he's always here for the kids' birthdays. And he won't be here for New Year's. Or his birthday.

And instead of getting to call him and talk to him about what he's working on, I have to work on finding his will and writing his obituary. Instead of talking to my dad, I have to talk to his friends and tell them when Dad's memorial service will be. But I am so tired of doing these things.

I really just want to call my dad.