I am struggling. There I said it. Seeing it on the page in black and white helps me define my last few weeks. It’s been almost 6 months since Dad passed, but for some reason I have had a wave of emotion that feels fresh and new. Painful again. I am aware that grief doesn’t travel in a straight line, it is more like a twisting mountain road, one direction then another and back again.

My issue is that I didn’t actually recognize it as grief. I thought stress. I thought other family matters. I thought I was tired. Which came first the exhaustion or the grief? Like the chicken and the egg, sometimes it is hard to determine. One day it feels like I am walking through mud, every step requires so much effort. The next I am not walking at all because I prefer to hibernate. Still other days, I feel much like myself, doing the things I love to do.

Most of all, this time, I am missing our time with Dad. The last 7 years had brought us so close. I saw him at least 2 times every week, often more than that. We talked daily. When he was lonely, he would text to meet up for dinner somewhere. We went to events like the Steep Canyon Rangers concert because he didn’t want to go alone. I accompanied him to funerals, so I could step in when the “How’s Martha?” question came up and he was too emotional to answer. He was a regular at pretty much every restaurant in Gainesville, and honestly, I miss some of the servers at those places, because they knew him so well.  

And what really stinks is that this year, we have two firsts of everything. We just did the first Mother’s Day and Father’s Day is fast approaching. We will have two birthdays and two death-days. It can be overwhelming. I am not sure how grief can keep sneaking up on me like this. Like I don’t even recognize my sudden need for 14 hours of sleep as grief. How can I not put two and two together? It seems to be a surprise every time it happens.

Maybe, I expect I am further along than I am? Maybe, because I am having some “normal” days, I think I am past the teary ones? Or the tired ones? I am not sure why I am having such trouble recognizing this sneaky pain for what it is. It feels like I should know grief well by now. Yet, I still find myself wondering what’s going on and then it hits me…I have been through a LOT in the past year…really the past 7 years. These grief days are not unusual. They are normal. It is normal for me to feel all the things, at all the times, on all the days.

My latest way of dealing has been to go nostalgic. I decide take a solo road trip to all Mom and Dad’s favorite places. To remember. I start at the cemetery, spreading bird seed as is my habit. I sit on the bench and remember the day Dad decided this was the place for Mom’s ashes to be buried.

He said, “She can be here and then at some point I will be here, too.”

And I said, “I think it’s a good choice because I can come sit on this bench when I miss you.” We laughed, but now, here I am sitting on the bench. Much sooner than I had thought.

From there I drive up through Clayton, hitting all the hot spots, then onto Highlands. I find my car (Dad’s car) taking me to the botanical gardens. I walk and wander. I take pictures in his memory. Nothing like his, mind you, but still an effort to honor him. I remember all the times we walked around the lake back when it was his backyard. I sit by the creek and cry. A much-needed outlet, those tears. Sometimes, finding a quiet place to meet with grief is the best I can do to appease it. And feel it. And allow it to do its work.

They say grief is love with nowhere to go. That the sorrow is the price of the love. I guess those things are true, but I believe grief is a voice. Calling me to remember. A speaker of memories. A life disappears so quickly. So completely. Unless love is remembered. In words. In actions. In images. In stories. Grief is a reminder, like a notification on my phone, to remember. Not to let the love, that I was privileged to experience, fade. To stop, take some time, and cry yes, but also to create a memorial to remember. To pass on to other generations the stories of these people who meant so much to me.

This year is a different kind of Memorial Day. I remember…not only the soldiers who died for my freedom…but also my beautiful parents who sacrificed so much for me. I make a memorial by allowing myself some sentimentality…and remembering the love through the tears. My deep appreciation goes to those who gave their lives for our country, our freedom. My heart breaks for those they left behind. I know you grieve more than one day a year. For you, every day is Memorial Day. Allow your grief to speak of the memories. Do not forget them. And do not let us forget them either. Tell your stories…and theirs. Hugs on this day and every one of your Memorial Days.