Confusion of Grief

The air is heavy with summer-rain moisture and the sweet scent of blackberries on the bush too long. The woods smell like the coming moss, and musk cologne, with a hint of rotting carcass. The gravel of the path leads to trees, the woods lead to the sandy beach. My dad and I have walked this path so many times, I could do it with my eyes shut.

You know the hardest part of grief? Confusion. There’s no making sense of it. You go thru a hard break up, knowing thru the tears that it’s for the best… that you’ll find someone better for you… that most likely he was a douche bag anyways. You don’t get the job, you crash your car, you gain five pounds… all lessons learned and you’re the better for it. Consequences of my own mistakes.

But the death of my dad… there’s no lesson to be learned, I’m not better off for it, the purpose of it alludes me and forever will. The pain is not my own doing.

So many “why’s”… why did he die so young? He was such an amazing kind kind man… exactly what this world needs more of… not less. Why did he die so young.  Why did he go thru such pain? FINE! We all die, so if it was his time, then why didn’t You just take him and spare him such pain? He didn’t deserve so much pain!

And the common, cliche questions… why him? Why must we die? Why do good people suffer?

And all the asking is pointless. There are no answers, no understanding, no relief. People say time will heal, that it gets easier. I believe that. I’m not miserable every moment now. I live, I laugh, I function. I walk at the river, overcome by gratefulness that I got my dad. I dig my toes in the sand. I look at pictures, revel in memories, and retell funny stories. Sometimes with tears, and sometimes without. There’s no telling whether you’ll get an onslaught of tears or a stable woman with I talk about Dad… I don’t even know. I’m on an emotional roller coaster. Never have I wanted to be such a recluse. Nor have I ever smiled so little. Never has normalcy reflected laughing one moment, and crying the next.

Sometimes I forget to breathe. Sometimes I forget the pain.