While My Heart Gently Weeps

My father, who was always my Da.

I do not know how to stop speaking to you, but I do not know how to start, knowing that this will be a one sided conversation. I cannot stand the thought of you out there, waiting for me to start either.
I was always careful about my beliefs, especially about the big things, like death. I have never had an opinion that was fully formed about it, nevertheless, I did have certain ideas. Thoughts on what happens as that last breath leaves the body, where does that life go? What is left, is anything?
All that I held to be somewhat true, in theory, has crashed down around me, and I'm left standing in the midst of all the shattered pieces, and there is nothing. No answers, no comfort, just a huge gaping hole that starts hurting at my heart and moves through me in waves, through my eyes, my brain and my lungs. I am not believing that you are truly gone, but I have no proof of that, only my hopefulness that I'll wake up and be able to call you. I stare at my hands, and see your hands, surely that can't be what people mean when they say you will always live in me. It only makes my hands feel like an echo that never finds its depths, or a response on the other side of the mountain.
All my thoughts of you unravel, and come back to the last days. Watching you by the window, trying to imagine what you were seeing, were you dreaming backwards? I want to remember all the stories, but can't seem to unless someone else is telling them. I have dreams, over and over, of trying to still hold your hand, and being in that room, trying to still talk to you. I walk through trees, trying to see for you, to give you the world that I see, now that you do not have your own.
But all of it feels like a ruse, I cannot understand where you went. And for now, I cannot accept it. Maybe in time, but for now I am not ready to say goodbye.
I breath through the waves of loss, at moments it is almost too much, but really it is never too much. I just keep breathing


locomocos said...

i love your da. he looks like jack kerouac with a baby in this photo :)

I do a dish, you do 2 dishes. I do 4 dishes, you do 8 dishes....

Blackpetunia said...

Ha, I just saw this comment. I was just thinking about this time in my head the other day when I was doing dishes - difference was I do all the dishes, Tom does no dishes, not quite the same....