and so it begins, again

And so it begins, again. On Saturday we said goodbye to my father. We sent him and my Aunt Sandy off together on a beautifully blustery fall day. In true fashion, we followed the lead of my perpetually late father and straggled in barely on time. Family, some I had not seen in many years, and friends who are family in every definition were there to honor them.

This day and this ceremony are truly the line in the sand between walking with the loss and accepting grief’s invitation to dance. I am quite familiar with this exchange and making every effort to incorporate it into the fabric of my being. This is a challenge. I have had an intense relationship with grief over these past 6 years. The minute I take a break from the dancefloor to rub my sore feet, we, once again, make eye contact. I never know how we will orchestrate this uneasy exchange. The dance is always different and can range from soothing to frenetic.

The time between my dad’s death and his burial was a protected, somewhat cozy, cocoon. Yes, he died, but we, the living were navigating the loss, thus far, knowing it wasn’t over yet. Busy making plans and coordinating our upcoming gathering, excited to be together again, we could shush grief for a bit.

We caravaned to the cemetery, about two hours away. Our caravan did get a bit discombobulated and none of us were surprised!  The ceremony was beautiful and fitting, crisp and warming simultaneously. Once we were done, we headed to grab some of dad’s favorite pizza and decompress for a bit. It was lovely.

Once done we made our way back to mom’s house (that’s a tough one). Most of the siblings and their families there. Dad would have loved this from his usual place in front of the TV. Some fricking and fracking for sure but soaking it all in. All of us enjoying the time but keenly aware that we were expected to part yet again.

I am currently using my bereavement time. I am thankful that I have it and can take a few days just to be. I am doing my best to be gentle and patient with myself. Allowing grief in and meeting it halfway. The DJ is setting up and I can no longer be the wallflower. I see you, I am you.