that if a person dies we keep them and cherish them in our hearts. They say that they aren’t really gone if you remember them. They are with you always. Let’s celebrate their lives.

BS.

I walk into my father’s home. He isn’t there. I walk into his bedroom he isn’t there. I sit down to have a meal with him. He isn’t there. I don’t hear his voice. He doesn’t give me advice. He can’t tell me more of his stories. He’s not here anymore. I just feel lonely and sad.

What is real is that I’m sad. Life is lonely. I miss him. That’s what is real. I don’t want rationalizations. Platitudes. He’s dead and I’m sad.

And what’s more, I want to feel sad and lonely. He was important. He mattered. The tears mean something. Living and dying is part of the story. His story. I’ve lost others too that made me feel empty and a deep sadness. It means I have the human capacity to connect and love.  They were important to me. Sadness is part of life.

And I have regrets too. I want to talk with pop one more time. I want one more chance. Another day. I want to take him in my C30 and take him on a road trip or take him to his morning coffee group. One more chance to ask him about life and death and everything in between.

What is hard is trying so hard not to feel the sadness and emptiness and loneliness. I can’t do it. No use avoiding it. I can’t avoid it. I accept it as part of the unfathomable part of my existence. I embrace the sadness and emptiness and accept my father’s death. In the loss and emptiness I can feel his love and my capacity to care and remember the times when I felt loved and comforted.

Rambling on…  probably going to be rambling for awhile…

Skypilot123…………………  Feb. 24th, 2016