The shock of my father's death is beginning to wane. The arrangements were
made. The funeral and burial followed. My family and I now find ourselves
faced with returning to our usual routines. The only hitch is that the grief
is not gone, not one of us is 'over it'. The very notion of life as usual,
as a result, seems surreal.
Just this weekend, my sister and I were discussing Easter. We were deciding
on the menu and who needed to do what, when she mentioned her husband would
order a kielbasa from a local farm. My first reaction was 'oh Dad will love
that'. He and the other men always crowd round kielbasa, debating whether or
not mustard was a necessary accessory. Then I remembered he was gone. It was
as if Emily LaTella snuck into my mind with an "Oh.......nevermind".
It feels strange to be reeling like this, as we knew for so many years, this
is how it would end. Like the rigors of childbirth, there really is no way
to prepare for loss. You just can't steel your psyche to avoid grief. At
times it washes over your heart with the force of a tidal wave. At other
times, it is a slow persistent whisper in the back of your mind. One way or
another, it will be heard.
There is also no way to expedite the process. Although the public ceremonies
are over, we must all sit privately with our grief for some time yet. So,
we'll return to our everyday lives, and make plans for the future.
Eventually, there will come a day, when it all won't feel so alien. I'll be
able to answer the question 'how are you?' without tears welling in my eyes.
My sons won't need to crawl into my lap and sob at the slightest
frustration. We won't be startled by the telephone's ring at an odd hour.
For now, though, it's all any of us can do to just sit with it.
Copyright 2002 Catie Gosselin
About the Author
Catie Gosselin is founder/editor of WomanLinks.com. She
is a freelance writer, homeschooling mom of two, and lives with her husband
of thirteen years in Massachusetts.
