Hello? Ms. Griffin…I am sorry to report that just after 6 your father passed.
One year ago. And its been a hollow year. Each holiday, marked with an extra helping of pain & emptiness. Sept. 11th was the hardest because I for the first time since 2001 actually turned on the tv and didn’t walk around going “La La La” with my hands over my ears.
I feel…at ease and with a finality. Peaceful now and hopeful for the future. It is done. Last year, a vault of fresh pain came to punch me square in the gut.
At work, when I’ve heard of someone’s loss, I felt it that much more keenly, especially since experiencing the loss myself. It hurts, and every holiday feels like a curse.
Christmas was unbearable. I could barely get dinner made, and my mom wouldn’t leave the couch. She was catatonic, and I went into June Cleaver overdrive, trying to make eeeeverything perrrrfect and cheeerful lest my daughter take notice.
I watched Rocket Gibraltar, a sleepy little movie made in 1988. The kids of a family reunion give their Grandpa a Viking Funeral. The last 20 minutes of the film are the best, but you really need to see the whole story to understand what is going on. I cried at the end, naturally, also recalling how we honored my Dad by having a green burial.
My Dad was one year younger than Burt Lancaster’s Levi, 76. He left a great heritage for us to follow. We still have the house and are not flat broke (yet). Lol…
I love you Dad. And your love will be passed on from this generation to the next.