A Loss of Many Forms

I sit here writing, where waves of salt have flowed from my eyes, finding that is eases such loss.  Where I need personal space and time to collect my emotions, and there are many, I find this forum to be quite fruitful.

This morning I woke as I do, with kids running into the room with smiles on their faces.  After a short time playing in the bed, I brought them down for the morning meal.  It was my wife’s birthday yesterday, so I thought to make some waffles.  It’s a thing in my house, where waffles, for some inside-joke reason, have added significance.  I had barely serves the first before the phone rang.  It was my father, which is an odd sort of thing to occur at that time of day.  I knew immediately it wasn’t good.  My uncle had passed a few minutes earlier. He was younger than my father.  It was more than surreal.  The call ended but I am at a loss to remember how.

My daughters then, in their childlike way, asked some simple questions, to which I found difficulty in answering.  In grief, one’s thoughts are not solid or focused.  I had tried explaining death in a recent passing but at this point, I was simply lost. In fact, lost is the best term for the entire day.  I answered best I could but my wife was there to help.  Given that my aunt was but a few minutes away, I headed over.

Grief is an interesting beast of emotion.  It hits hard, it hits continuously and it hits without end.  I spent the day with my aunt, my cousin, my father and my grand-father.  We men are of same cloth. Grief is but an unceasing tide that wreaks havoc on any defenses or pretense of understanding.  In the middle of thought, of which we seem deeply to be within, a crack is found and a stutter occurs.

When someone close passes away, you have this unending feeling that they are right around the corner.  A door opens and you think it might be them.  A creak in stairs and they are bounding down to meet you.  But in your mind, a split second after your heart has yearned, knows they won’t be around the corner.  When thoughts wander, they go to places where emotion is strongest.  I can see the times I spent with him as a youth, as an adult and as a parent.  I can see the times I won’t have him around.  A hole that exists.  One to match when my grandmother passed at this exact same time 7 years ago.

My uncle was fond of saying that no one can cheat death and that our tickets are already punched.  I am of the same belief.  Certainly there is anger and frustration at losing someone close when they are still young.  My rage was shortlived.  I can think at all the things he did and saw.  I can see that he had no regrets.  He lived a full and rich live and made all of us lucky to know him.

I will miss him dearly and my heart is broken with need of mend.

 

This entry was posted in Social and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to A Loss of Many Forms

  1. C. T. Murphy says:

    Sorry for your loss man! Let me know if you need anything.

  2. I am sorry for your loss. This was, however, written beautifully.

  3. says:

    Mon cher Marc. Toutes nos sympathies. Ton message était très émouvant. On pense à toi et ta famille dans cette période difficile. On t’aime beaucoup. Mel, Jo et famille

  4. Duke of O says:

    An honest man here lies at rest,
    The friend of man, the friend of truth,
    The friend of age, and guide of youth:
    Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
    Few heads with knowledge so inform’d;
    If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
    If there is none, he made the best of this.
    Robert Burns
    Where do people go to when they die?
    Somewhere down below or in the sky?
    ‘I can’t be sure,’ said Grandad, ‘but it seems
    They simply set up home inside our dreams.’
    Jeanne Willis

  5. j3w3l says:

    wishing you the most heartfelt sympathies in this hard time. Sending you all the Internet hugs

  6. Luc says:

    Toutes mes sympathies Marc. C’est émouvant ce que tu as écrit. Ce n’est jamais facile, le deuil. Mais en écrivant nos pensées et nos sentiments, c’est déjà un pas de fait.

  7. Pingback: And… I’m Back | Leo's Life

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s