Thursday, October 29, 2009

What kind of gone are we talking about here?

I've been waiting until I'm really able to put into words how I'm feeling.. and as I wait, I'm beginning to realize that there will never be a "right time" to analyze my feelings. It will always be something that hurts beyond words. Something that literally stops my heart from it's usual rhythm and makes it skip a few beats.

DEATH.

How do I describe what it feels like to lose someone? How can I put into words the anger and hate I have towards something that isn't in my control? I can't. I feel defeated, helpless, hopeless and hurting.

It's been three weeks since Sunday October 11th. The Seahawks won, I took a date to the game, it was sunny, I was happy and then I got a text that he died. He died early in the am, the only warning was a bird flew into his house. An old wives tale says that death to a family member is near when a bird flies into your house. Well... one flew in and I'd like to think, led him to the gates of heaven. I keep waiting for the grieving to take on a different form, it feels like I've been angry for SO LONG. I know there are other steps in letting go, but I just haven't left the anger phase.

This weekend we will celebrate his life. I don't know how to act at a celebration of life. Do I treat it as a funeral? His buriel won't be until the 7th of December... in Arlington, VA. He really was something, wasn't he? What an accomplishment, what an honor, what a peaceful place to be laid to rest.

As the seasons change and the holidays approach I'm finding it even MORE difficult to imagine him not being here. I'll miss his holiday cider at the office Christmas party, his "surprise" birthday party he throws for me every year, his Christmas tie that he wears to the Seattle Yacht Club Christmas gala, him nagging on me and my gift wrapping skills, the stories he has of making his TWO Turkeys for Thanksgiving, his annual Sees candy box, the way he'd stress out over the parking lot and unwanted visitors abusing it, his early AM calls to ask me to kindly put out the McAusland PARKING ONLY signs, the way he'd proudly show off what jewelry he had custom made for the ladies in his life, HIM. Everything about him. That North Carolina twang, and the way he always called me "baby."

I miss him.

No comments:

Post a Comment