Cast Me Gently Into Mourning
Preface:
I had this post written and scheduled to publish before I heard about Shana’s sweet sweet boy, Thalon, leaving this world yesterday afternoon. My heart is aching for Shana and her family, and while I initially thought I would save this post for a later date, after talking to Angella about it at length I decided to go ahead and let it be, and share it today. My heart is aching for The Spohrs, it’s aching for Shana, it’s aching for my best friend and her mother who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, and my heart is aching for my father, too. (Updated to add: if you would like to help the Gorillabuns family offset the cost of Thalon’s hospital stay and funeral expenses, the paypal donation site is here. Thanks to Whoorl for setting it up. Once this post slides down the main page, you’ll also be able to find a link to the donation page on my side-bar for the rest of the month, under the “and I quote” section.)
In other words, April is no friend of mine this year. But April being a right wench is something I happen to be used to. Peace and bear hugs to you today, friends.
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It sneaks up on me. The missing him. I can’t ever anticipate it, even though I think after all this time I should be able to sense the waves of emotion catapulting toward me; I should be able to hear grief creeping up behind me, clad in flannel and tiptoeing oh so carefully around the productivity, the efficiency, the ability to heal I set up like boundaries to keep me safe, to keep me dry.
I suppose after all these years it shouldn’t surprise me grief doesn’t ever pause for my pretenses; I should know better.
The clean smell and cheerful sight of tulips and daffodils stretching their colorful heads above the still-cold earth bring me instant smiles every spring, and with their living symbols of renewal and hope, reminders that April 5th and 15th also loom near.
April 5th was my father’s birthday. He would have been 53 last Sunday. The picture below is my dad and his mom on April 5th 1983. I would have been 10 months old.
April 15th was the day my father dove into rushing water too cold and too fast for him to navigate; April 15th was the day he drowned. It was also the day a large part of me sunk to the bottom of a remorseless river. He was 39. I was 12, almost 13.
My father died in April, 1995. That was 14 years ago.
Those are the numbers, the raw statistics of the event. I’ve officially lived more years without my father than I have with him.
The reality of the situation is of course a bit more complicated. As is missing him.
I can’t predict mourning any more than anyone else can; I can’t explain it, and, in my experience, the pain doesn’t lessen with time. I think that’s mostly nonsense we tell ourselves to make suffering bearable, to bolster ourselves against the reality that hearts break, losses are routinely and supremely felt, and holes left by those we loved and who loved us aren’t always filled with anything beyond an aching to see them again, to know them again.
Some Aprils come and go without me crying at all. Some Aprils are so hard to swallow that I feel a weight sitting on my chest the entire thirty days. Sometimes the grief and anxiety I feel about losing my dad have absolutely nothing to do with this month at all.
I just miss him. Especially this month. Especially today. Especially just because I do.
“at the river
most turn back, their souls shivering,
but my little girl stands alone on the bank
and watches. ”
-from the death of thelma sayles, by Lucille Clifton
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Oh, Honey. My heart aches today too. For your loss and for the loss of others. It is a loss that I have not experienced, but my heart aches when people I love are hurting.
That picture of you in the leaves is just the cutest. HUGS to you today (and always).
Oh honey, I had no idea! There is just so much sadness this week, and now this, too. Boo. I don’t know what I would do without my parents, so I can’t even fathom. Love from SF.
i’m glad you decided to post it.
LOVE and HUGS
You resemble your father, I think particularly in his smile though I do not know what your mom looks like. I have my dad’s smile too.
This post is beautiful and poignant and so well written. I can relate to the missing though each of us walks our own path through grief. There is no getting over it, really. That much I know to be true.
Much love to you, sweet friend.
Oh. I am so sorry, for the loss of your father and that you are hurting. April IS a bitch, for sure. Hugs to you, babe.
This is a beautiful post, Kerr. I love you and I’m so thankful for you.
Hugs to you, sweetheart <3
What an absolutely beautiful post.
There is just so much loss this month. I’ve never willed the calendar to move ahead to the next month as much as I am right now.
Beautifully written as always. Hugs to you, my friend.
I’m glad you posted it, so I can be thinking of you and praying for you today too.
This is just equally heartbreaking, Kerrianne. You are a great writer. Thinking of you too today and everyone who has lost someone so close.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I, too, lost my father at too young an age, and it still hurts so much. Someone once told me that the pain doesn’t go away – it just spreads itself out over time.
Hugs for you, my dear. For you, for Maddie, for Thalon, for us all.
I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry you are hurting and I’m sorry for all those who have lost so much in the past week and are hurting. Sometimes the world seems so unfair, but I constantly tell myself, surely something good will come from this. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.
Beautifully written.
Thinking of you.
I’m with Ali- I’m so glad you decided to post this. And I’m so, so sorry for your loss.
Here thru Sizzle, who said this post was not to be missed.
So sorry for you. I’m so sorry for gorillabuns, for mamaspohr, for those parents whose angels left way too soon. I’m sorry for my own community, where, just last week, a wonderful student and person took his life at only 14 years old, for reasons no one can fathom. And if I may, I’m sorry for myself, who lost a dad when he was only 47 – again, far too young and far too soon.
Given what’s happened this April, both in my blogosphere and my real world, I’m inclined to agree that April is no friend. I can only hope that May brings more peace, more sunny days, more happiness.
Sizzle was right.
Here via Sizzle as well…. and my heart goes out to you, Shana and Mamasphor. I can only imagine the pain and it breaks my heart.
You completely summed up my feelings of grief for my father’s loss – I was never able to put into words that sneaky feeling that overtakes you. It’s cruel. And I suspected that it doesn’t get easier with time (it’s only been 1.5 years), so thanks for your honesty.
My dad’s birthday was April 9 and this month always reminds me of him.
You are such a beautiful person, Kerri. I’m thinking of you this week. xo
You can see the love and pride he has for you especially in that last photo with you and the leaves. He’s beaming.
Thanks for sharing this, Kerri. Hope you find some peace tonight.
i love you. thanks for being here for me during this difficult time for my mom. and i’m always here for you, my frans. xoxo
Here’s a big ol internet hug.
So well said, Kerri. So well said.
I love your writing. And whenever you write about your dad, it is always so touching. Your dad looked like such a warm, loving guy. And clearly, in love with his girls.
I hope it’s okay for me to say… I’m a fan of your Members Only jackets.
*hugs* it’s been 13 years for me and it probably hurts more today than it did ten years ago… *hugs*
I read this when you posted it, and it was a hectic time, and I wanted to comment when I had proper peace to contemplate what you wrote. It’s so touching, and it makes me ache. I don’t know what else to say other than that I’m sending you a whole lot of love. I know you think about him every day, not just in April.