I wish I had called more. I wish I had taken the time to talk more with you even though you couldn't understand me well or form the words your mind was thinking. I miss you. I wish I'd asked you more about Wall Street, how you met Grandma, the first program you'd developed that took her parents' breath away. I wish I'd taken time to write it down, because I already feel the memories fading. I wish I could eloquently put fingers to keyboard, and capture your spirit. In my dreams, I remember you strolling by my side, with your hands clasped behind your back, pointing to something off in the distance and telling me it was beautiful. I wish I had that stilled in a photo and not just a black and white scan of an image long past. I wish I had cuddled up to you more and spent more time by your side when you were resting. I wish for a lot of moments with you. But here are the things I'm honored to have in my heart...
I'm honored you sent me your pieces of art; the lions are my favorite, and the first time I saw them, they took my breath away. The wings you added to my silhouette when I was younger have given my dreams flight for years now, and your encouragement and spirit have made them a reality. The carousel I sent you framed all in black, heavily contrasted and blurred at the edges, was one of my favorite pieces, and when you hung it on the wall in your office, I burst into tears, because you made me feel worthy. I loved that you loved my dog without having met her. Your smile was infectious, and I think I loved her even more after seeing her through your eyes. She knew you were gone, and somehow, I know she misses you. I loved watching Rachel Ray with you and talking extravagant recipes even though we were waiting for Gram to finish cooking you eggs with ketchup - the not so extravagant. The day we picked up takeout, and you sat in the car explaining to me all about penny stocks is the highlight of my adult life with you and the reason I've majored in Mathematical Economics.
I ate ice cream tonight after celebrating your life with a glass of champagne and a live music set in a bar with exposed brick and oil paintings hanging on the wall. The ice cream was plain vanilla, but the flavor doesn't matter; it was rich and decadent and everything you would have wanted. I hope you're eating it now, adding all of the cookies you want, topping it with whipped cream, and telling your Dorris she'll be okay.
Because she will be eventually. We all will be okay. That's the thing about death.
It feels like a soul-ripping, tortuous, overwhelming tidal wave of emotion, but in the end, your body will settle for okay. It might be a very dull, impossible-to-breathe okay, but it'll be okay. And pretty soon it'll be life and spirit and energy and movement and hope and growth and smiles and laughter and joy. There's no timeline, but it will be there. For a moment. For a second. A little glimpse of what it could be if it's held onto with both hands, eyes closed, and an open heart.
I've been trading in my books, one by one, to save enough money to buy a big-girl camera. It's beautiful and comes with enough lenses to make your heart beat a little faster. I want it to capture food and smiles and imperfections and love and joy. I hope it captures a little bit of you in every snap. I say, I hope, but I know it will. I already feel you in the vibrations of the world. I sense your solid ground, your steady voice, your laughter at the absurd.
You are one mighty big spirit, and I'm honored to have known you in my adult life. I am so thankful you got to see me with a future and not just a list of hopes and dreams. I wish you were able to see a little bit more, to hear a little more stories of my life, to pass on a little more anecdotes from yours. Instead, I'll cherish what I have had with you. I'll wait for you to throw a sign in my path, and make me stop and appreciate the little things. I'll wait to smell the hotdogs with ketchup, the sweet aroma of ice cream, the click of a camera, the clink of ice in a cocktail shaker. I'll wait until your memories float into my life to make them my own.
There's no one else like you. The world will never be the same. I will never be the same. But you wouldn't stand for boring sameness, would you?
Don't take too many candids up there, okay? I have an image to uphold. Love you to the moon and back, twice around the biggest hug in the world, and off to sunrise. May you light up the world of all those hanging on your every word. Xx.
This is the first post in a new series on grief. For anyone in need, the comment section can be your safe place to express yourself and share your memories of loved ones past. Peace to you all. xx.
