Monday, December 01, 2008
Today as we were driving to the post office, I spied an old man walking to his car. He still had a fine head of white hair and was wearing a white-striped navy polo shirt, khaki shorts, a leather belt, white athletic socks and sneakers--exactly what my dad liked to wear...and in the flash of the first instant of seeing him, I thought it would be exactly how my dad would look in another 20 years. Then the next flash was the memory that my father died of colon cancer two and a half years ago. It's been two and a half years, but seeing that old man today filled my chest with suffocating grief that just won't go away. I kept driving, although I wanted to pull over and break down. I smile for the girls, but right now they are napping and I'm beside myself. It's awful how the loss of a loved one just blindsides you sometimes. His birthday was last week, and he would have been 57. I tried to ignore it, but there it was. And then there he was today, as an old man that I will never see. I know it's awful to post this and spread the grief around, but I don't know what else to do. Everyone I know is either at work or asleep (middle of the night in the US now) or too little to be burdened with my grief, and I had to try to relieve it somehow.
I am just so sorry.