Monday, March 18, 2013

The Grief Has Come

I recall another time, of a similar scene - me sitting at my desk, heaving like I am choking and finding it hard to stop the tears from falling. And I am familiar with this scene and what it is called.

For the last 3 weeks, I have been indulging in what my Irish colleagues call - Occupational Therapy. Mindless working and constant motion. Never stopping to be still and just be. And now, 3 weeks have passed that I have been wearing black, with another week to go before the colours can come out again.

I am hesitate that this week to pass, for me to once again switch my clothes in the cupboard into their correct order of purpose. For it would mean that Dad's been gone a month. And I have been without his voice, his smile, his touch, his whole being for the same length of time.

I understand now why some folks prolong their mourning. It provides some form of false pretense, as if the colour cloak you from the pain of missing someone so dear and so loved, so very badly. But I also know that prolonging something that needs to be addressed, changes you on the inside. You become so well at blocking it, you simply become numb.

I know on 27th March 2013, Dad would want to see me in the brightest of my colours. Because if there is anything that he most wanted out of his death to those who are living - that we continue to live, and live well!

But it doesn't deny the fact that the grief has arrived at my door.

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