Friday, December 17, 2010

That time of year

It's a little hard to believe, but it's coming up on the one-year anniversary of my father's death. As with most years, I'm struck simultaneously by the feeling that the past year went so quickly and the feeling that so much has happened that it seems like more time must have passed. It's hard to write about this without taking refuge in cliches but I can see what people mean when they describe grieving as a process. I'm definitely further along in the process -- way further along -- but there are still times when I hit a bump in the road. (See? another cliche.)

Today I'm taking Little Miss to the dress rehearsal for her ballet school's Nutcracker performance. She has "graduated" from being an angel (the role that the littlest girls play) to playing a soldier in the battle scene. (I'm praying the guns aren't loaded.) I have to say that I was not prepared for the feeling of melancholy and dread that's come over me with the dress rehearsal an hour or two away. You see, last year, the Nutcracker dress rehearsal -- also the Friday before Christmas -- took place on a cold blustery day with snow forecast for the morning. My dad was in the hospital and he had taken a sharp turn for the worse. As I took photos of Little Miss looking adorable and proud I was fielding cell phone calls telling me my dad was probably dying and I needed to go up to W-B as soon as possible. I flew home with Little Miss, threw clothes in a bag, called my father-in-law to come and hang with the kids until Tom got home, and got on the turnpike.

It was a strange drive; the roads were eerily silent, probably in anticipation of the bad weather to come. That night was the last time I saw my dad really conscious. He died the day after I returned home, just a few hours after entering the hospice.

The really weird thing about grief is that you can be going along, minding your own business, and it hits you over the head, as suddenly and as deeply as Wile E. Coyote's anvil.

10 comments:

Mary Lou said...

i liken it to a pulled muscle. Everything is going along just ducky then you turn the wrong way and BAM, it hits you. Best wishes for getting through the season. Anniversaries of loss are tougher this time of year, I think.

aliceq said...

I know how you feel...My father died in early January last year. Mostly, I'm OK, but then I'm hit with "a year ago today..." memories, not to mention all the random things I want to tell him. People tell me it gets easier, and I, mostly, believe them.

Anonymous said...

Damn good analogy there - Wile E.'s anvil. Two years and a little since I sat uselessly watching my mother die. It's easier now than it was then, but it still sucks often.
Penny

Anonymous said...

I, too, empathize with you and send you the wish that the future brings more of the happier memories of your departed father, and fewer of the sad memories.

Rooie said...

Ah, I'm sorry. It does get easier with time...but my mom died 4 years ago and there are still moments when I suddenly, out of nowhere, feel a sob lurking. Well, I say "out of nowhere." Sometimes, though, it's just a moment just after I've thought, "I ought to call Mom and tell her...oh."

And the other night I dreamed about my late step-father and woke up annoyed that my mom wasn't in the dream...

rinebird said...

Carol-What a great write about your father.My dad died in 95 & it seems like a week ago.My lovely mother died a little over 2 years ago.They had similar deaths, so odd.I think of calling mom at dinner time a lot.

M-H said...

It's a strange thing, grief. But somehow it does help to write about it.

Also, just wanted to let you know that the Esmerelda kit you sent me will be gifted in the morning - about 12 hours from now. I'm so excited! A local dyer at our guild, Knitabulous, had dyed some experimental yarn to get the lengthwise 'pooling' to make a scarf like this last month and I had to prevent Sandra from ordering some of it!

subliminalrabbit said...

(((hugs)))

Liz K. said...

Blargh. This first Christmas/anniversary is likely to be the hardest, but you are right in thinking that these "bad dad days" are going to just crop up unexpectedly sometimes.

I'll be thinking of you this week.

toni in florida said...

Hugs to you!