I have cried nearly every day for five years. I cried in the forest this week on a field trip with my daughter's second grade class. One of our barefoot guides started gently singing to get the kids to quiet down and listen. One of the lines was, "I am one. Am one with the earth. My roots go down to the earth." It moved me to tears. The thought of being part of a bigger connection, finding meaning in that connection within nature, flooded me.
I think back to all the feelings I had while he was dying. I was worried about him but mainly for myself and my kids. Five years later I worry more about him and how scared he must have been. How sad he must have been. I imagine the pain he must have been in. I mourn for him and not being a person who said to him, "YOU must be so scared." I cringe at knowing that I was one of the people he needed to comfort while he was dying.
I miss him.
Desperately.
I talk to him over and over and all I can squeak out past my swollen throat is, "I miss you so much."
His 70th birthday is coming up next month. It upsets my stomach knowing that such a milestone birthday will never be had. I mourn for him and for me and for my kids.
As my youngest (age 4) would say, "Dad, I love you so, so, so much!"
