Destination, arrived.

 July 13, 2023

          

Sometimes the sounds of real life today are made because of something that happened in the past.

"Oof!"

I said this out loud as I was waking up. I had been dreaming. Or was I simply longing for before? It can be hard to tell, but I know this. It was a time before Dad died.

I get a text from one of my dad’s best friends this morning. Did he know about my dream? Life is weird and magical this way. He said, “It’s still so hard. I can’t believe how hard it is.”

I am startled, not because he texted, not because of his words, but because dad is dead. I don’t forget it and I do if that makes sense. I know dad is dead. I believe he is dead, but he doesn’t feel dead. He’s still situated right on top of my heart and he goes everywhere with me, more places than when he was alive.

I carry his eyes, they are so sweet. I can’t shake them. I don’t want to.

And then I carry his words from one of his last days alive. There we are, a pod consisting of mom, Josh, and Angie. Kelley is dead. Kelley is dead, but he is included. We all know this. Dad says, “I have the best kids.” He says it with strength, so clearly and sweetly. Dear god, how he loved us. He loves us.

The pain is so sharp. The tears flood as if it was yesterday and I am sad in my body- roiling and unsure andandandand. I am trying to stay in it, you know? My tendency is that horrible offense of comparing, of saying, “at least this or it could have been that” orororor, just to rush through it. 

No, I am trying to own my pain. Feel it. Give it space because within it is also the gold- thelovethelovethelove.

And when I stay long enough, let it fill me from head to toe, something shifts, and I am full of all he gave to us. Love. However backwards and sideways and twisted it could look at times, it was all one thing.

Are we on this planet to learn what love looks like?

Yes, and I know.

I know.