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Jun. 23rd, 2018 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluealoeI feel like I should write something, mark the day in some way. But all day I've been feeling run-down, both physically and mentally, and I have nothing profound to say.
Today marks twelve years since one of the worst days of my life. I won't say it was the worst, because the shock insulated me from most of the emotions. The worst came days and weeks and months later: the memorials were over, the obituaries were published, and you're supposed be "getting over it". But that's the precisely when the shock wears off and the feelings start rushing back in, drowning you in an ocean of grief and regret and longing.
But even though it wasn't the worst day, twelve years ago was the day the world changed.
I wish I could separate the two events. Dad's death and Aidan's birth. From a distance, it sounds like the perfect circle of life; one dies and another is born. It's poetic. It's the type of plot device you'd find in a novel, and think "that never happens in real life".
Up close, the reality is a lot messier.
It means that every year I'm filled with grief and happiness at the same time. I'm happy Aidan is in my life, happy that he can celebrate another birthday. I'm so glad he was there in those first dark months, giving all of us something new and bright to focus on.
But I'm also filled with sadness, and regret, and missing my dad so hard it physically hurts. And over all of it, a blinding anger; the world did not let my father meet his grandson. Only 21 hours separated them. There is no universe in which that makes sense. Yes, it sounds beautiful that Aidan entered the world just as his grandfather left it. But in reality, it's ugly and cruel that they never got to meet.
It's such a strange day. Full of sadness and joy in equal measure. Instead of one overruling the other, they fight it out inside me all day long, and in the end I'm left exhausted and confused and no better off than before.
I want my father to know his grandchildren. I want my father to meet his son-in-law. And more than anything, I just want him to be HERE. I want to feel his arms as he hugs me. I want to hear his voice telling terrible jokes. I want to see the intense look on his face as he concentrates on a chess game. I want to taste his moosemeat spaghetti sauce. I want to smell the smoke as he builds a campfire.
If I could go back twelve years, and change the course of events, I would. It might change everything. I might not be where I am right now, with a decent place to live, a job I enjoy, an adorable cat, a supportive family, and the best husband in the world. It would change the lives of every person in my family. I would risk giving up everything.
But I would take that chance. Because if my father were here right now...it would be worth it.
Today marks twelve years since one of the worst days of my life. I won't say it was the worst, because the shock insulated me from most of the emotions. The worst came days and weeks and months later: the memorials were over, the obituaries were published, and you're supposed be "getting over it". But that's the precisely when the shock wears off and the feelings start rushing back in, drowning you in an ocean of grief and regret and longing.
But even though it wasn't the worst day, twelve years ago was the day the world changed.
I wish I could separate the two events. Dad's death and Aidan's birth. From a distance, it sounds like the perfect circle of life; one dies and another is born. It's poetic. It's the type of plot device you'd find in a novel, and think "that never happens in real life".
Up close, the reality is a lot messier.
It means that every year I'm filled with grief and happiness at the same time. I'm happy Aidan is in my life, happy that he can celebrate another birthday. I'm so glad he was there in those first dark months, giving all of us something new and bright to focus on.
But I'm also filled with sadness, and regret, and missing my dad so hard it physically hurts. And over all of it, a blinding anger; the world did not let my father meet his grandson. Only 21 hours separated them. There is no universe in which that makes sense. Yes, it sounds beautiful that Aidan entered the world just as his grandfather left it. But in reality, it's ugly and cruel that they never got to meet.
It's such a strange day. Full of sadness and joy in equal measure. Instead of one overruling the other, they fight it out inside me all day long, and in the end I'm left exhausted and confused and no better off than before.
I want my father to know his grandchildren. I want my father to meet his son-in-law. And more than anything, I just want him to be HERE. I want to feel his arms as he hugs me. I want to hear his voice telling terrible jokes. I want to see the intense look on his face as he concentrates on a chess game. I want to taste his moosemeat spaghetti sauce. I want to smell the smoke as he builds a campfire.
If I could go back twelve years, and change the course of events, I would. It might change everything. I might not be where I am right now, with a decent place to live, a job I enjoy, an adorable cat, a supportive family, and the best husband in the world. It would change the lives of every person in my family. I would risk giving up everything.
But I would take that chance. Because if my father were here right now...it would be worth it.
