It has been a little rough getting back to normal.
If you want to call it normal.
It’s no longer the same.
Another hole in my existence.
I have been through this before, and eventually I will fill it up with memories. Not all the way, there never seems to be enough to do that. It is in that small dark place I still grieve.
It has been almost 40 years since my Daddy left us. There are times I still cry. I don’t remember his voice, but I do remember a clicking sound he made with his tongue when he had one too many cocktails. And the body shop smells. Bondo. Paint.
2006 I lost my mom. I see her every day when I look in the mirror. No denying we are related. Sometimes her words escape my mouth. I remember her eyes. They lost the twinkle when Daddy died. I don’t remember ever seeing it again.
And now, my Father. A fresh wound to the heart. Fresh memories to store. I’m sure I will remember his gruff voice and gentle hands. The way I would catch him looking at me like he wasn’t sure if I was real. We were still new to each other. We didn’t dwell on the past much, just worked on the present.
I know I will go through this again, not in the near future, I pray. Losing a parent isn’t easy. Even when you know its the way nature is designed. I will hang on to my last one, she is a feisty woman who has shown me love and compassion when she didn’t have to.
I hope I absorbed and learned as much as I could to survive this life, and live it to it’s fullest.
I hope I never stop seeing them in the mirror. Hearing their words cross my lips, or feel that little black hole on occasion.
I want to remember.
I want to celebrate them.
I want to cry.
I want to remember all I can.
Let the memories comfort me.
Until we see each other again.
And get back to normal because that’s what they expect of me.
Living their legacy while forging my own.
They taught me to Love Big,
Lorene
