They say time heals all wounds. I hope that’s true. Death probably causes the hardest emotions to cope with, especially if the death is of a parent. I expected the sense of loss, but not the unique void created by losing my Dad; a void certain to widen when my Mom takes her turn.
We’re five children and he was a father to each of us in different ways, but Dad to all of us. It’s funny the things that come to mind now. Silly things, really. Important things. Commuting on the train together to work. I wish I’d paid closer attention. Or standing in front of his closet, being taught how to dress properly as he selected a tie for me to wear from his tie rack while instructing me in the finer points of wingtip shoe care. I feel honored I got to select his final resting garments and hope I got it right. I’m overwhelmed by memories of other seemingly unimportant events, surprised by some that have resurfaced.
It’s been a little over one week since his death and I still feel numb more than anything else. I’m sad but not distraught. Perhaps I’ve just simply been too busy, preoccupied with all the arrangements that needed attention. I’m starting to feel slightly unsettled with the likely certainty that it will catch up to me somewhere when I least expect it. I suppose I’ll just have to rely on time.
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