I never thought I would say that grieving could be a gift, and I certainly never would have imagined it could be a possibility two months ago.
I lost my father two months ago.
I've been hesitant to even write about it on this blog because writing about it means he's never going to be on the receiving end of a Friday night phone call. It means I'll never get to see him open a Father's Day card. It means I'll never get to hear him talk about his recent golf game. Or listen to his jokes. Or watch him play with his granddaughter. It means I'll never get to vacation with him again. Or taste one of his famous margaritas. Or ask him about career advice. It means I'll never see him hug my mom again or send me on my way with a kiss on the cheek and the words, "drive safe" fall off his lips as they religiously did all those times I pulled out of his driveway.
The endless hours spent visiting him in the hospital and watching him fight nothing but uphill battles was something I try and erase out of my memory. I want to remember him as a healthy man with the utmost vigor and optimism about life. He never once complained to me about being scared, worried, anxious or sick. He only complained about being cooped up there and wishing he was at home with my mom and their beagle.
I am learning that grieving is an on-going process and the reason we grieve is because we love so hard. The harder the grief the deeper the love.
So what better gift than grief because it means you experienced a bountiful love for someone?
And while my pain is deep and my life feels a bit emptier without him here on this planet, I carry the knowledge that he is omnipresent now in my heart and always near me.
I love you Pops. Always.