Feeling the Fracture of Loss

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It’s been quite some time since my last entry and that has been a conscious decision on my part. Since the death of my father in February, I haven’t wanted to share myself very much, be it in writing or in my life in general. And as I thought about writing this entry, I thought about why I began this blog in the first place, which was to share myself openly with whomever decided to read it in the hopes that the reader would in turn do the same in their own lives. I’ve heard it said somewhere that “you must be the change you wish to see in the world” and that’s why I’m doing this. I want to live in a world where people share themselves with others in ways that are more open emotionally. Smile at a stranger, help someone you don’t know, and open yourself up to those that you do know in a way that will bring you closer to each other. I may only be one person, but I have the opportunity every day to affect countless lives around me. Why not do something with that opportunity?

There has been a fracture in me, one that anyone who has lost someone close to him or her will surely understand. My father was such a source of love and support in my life and adjusting to the absence of that is very difficult for me. I do consider it a gift to have to adjust to the absence of it because I could be living a life of regret for all of the things that could have been missing between us. At his funeral I saw firsthand what that looks like. Its tears shed for all of the conversations that weren’t had, the birthdays and holidays missed and the hugs, smiles and laughter that can never be replaced. I can’t imagine the pain felt in longing for what was missed added to what will not be in the future. I miss hearing him tell me that he loves me and is proud of me. It’s like a flower no longer having the sun to support it in its growth. He wasn’t my only source of support, but he was one of the most important ones in my life. The hard part about living with the death of a loved one is that I’m always aware of it. Some days that awareness is stronger than others, but it’s always there for me, and only me. Sometimes I would like to have the comfort of knowing that the rest of the world is aware of it too, but I don’t. It’s a very strange thing to be in some state of grieving and want company in that grief.

It has only been four months since my father died and somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I’ll feel different about all of this, today just isn’t the day. 

Antuan RaimoneComment