This line from Swing Low, Sweet Chariot is very apt. I am sometimes up. I am sometimes down. It is pretty hard to know from day to day, or even hour to hour which I will be. I don’t want to beleaguer the point with you all, so I have been a little quiet. But this is my blog, so I am going to take you on a little bit of the roller coaster with me.
Yesterday I was sad. I went to Dad’s to get a few things and wasn’t really ok with that. I have been before and it wasn’t such a big deal, but yesterday it got to me. I think the biggest surprise is that for the last 15 months I have imagined how it would go, how Dad would die. I worried and schemed about how we would handle it. I wondered how I would get through. And there are times during every day now that I think back on the week of July 13. On making phone calls. On holding hands. On Dad. And it catches in my throat every time I realize – this isn’t my wondering. This is my memory. I really can’t wrap my mind around it. I know how it ended. This is my memory.
Today, I had a happy moment. I walked out of school after picking up the girls, and walked through a courtyard at their school. This year we found a video we had of Dad in that courtyard after the girls’ music show. The video was from a week before he went on the trip to the Navajo nation – that was the trip he started having trouble on. The video was from a time where we still had years left, a whole future ahead of us. We were laughing and carefree. And today, I swear I could feel the space where he was. It was like there were pockets in the courtyard where the air was different, but it was a very good different. It made me very happy. Almost like being hugged by the air, warm and heavy under the dark, cloud filled sky. I hope no one was watching, because I spun around like an idiot, and hugged back.
Sometimes up. Sometimes down.
Yesterday I was sad. I went to Dad’s to get a few things and wasn’t really ok with that. I have been before and it wasn’t such a big deal, but yesterday it got to me. I think the biggest surprise is that for the last 15 months I have imagined how it would go, how Dad would die. I worried and schemed about how we would handle it. I wondered how I would get through. And there are times during every day now that I think back on the week of July 13. On making phone calls. On holding hands. On Dad. And it catches in my throat every time I realize – this isn’t my wondering. This is my memory. I really can’t wrap my mind around it. I know how it ended. This is my memory.
Today, I had a happy moment. I walked out of school after picking up the girls, and walked through a courtyard at their school. This year we found a video we had of Dad in that courtyard after the girls’ music show. The video was from a week before he went on the trip to the Navajo nation – that was the trip he started having trouble on. The video was from a time where we still had years left, a whole future ahead of us. We were laughing and carefree. And today, I swear I could feel the space where he was. It was like there were pockets in the courtyard where the air was different, but it was a very good different. It made me very happy. Almost like being hugged by the air, warm and heavy under the dark, cloud filled sky. I hope no one was watching, because I spun around like an idiot, and hugged back.
Sometimes up. Sometimes down.
mostlyjenine 
Jenine – I know how you feel. Both my dad and mom went away in 2003 and to this day I often feel their presence. There is no supernatural feeling, just that they are still there for me. It is a good feeling.
the ups and downs are the unexpected part of grief I did not anticipate, but am glad that you are willing to share and help all of us around you think about our memories of loved ones.