If Only I Could Reach

Grief is not something I speak much about anymore. It's one of those topics that tends to drag on for those who don't understand it the way you do. Over the last year, I've found a way to just hold it inside. It's bound and wrapped tight. Most of the time, grief obeys and stays put. But there are other times where she unravels. Putting her back in her tight shell takes all my effort.

This week has marked 4th year I've had to let my dad live in heaven. I rather he be here. This very spot. There isn't much I wouldn't trade to have him come for dinner or call on the phone. But, life doesn't work like that. Life never makes trades, it only makes you keep going no matter the height of the hurdles.

I used to have a lot of anger. It was grief's companion. But anger has melted away and drained out my pores. Grief is all that remains. After 4 years, she has seeped deep down into my skin and settled there to stay. There are times I forget her and grief keeps quiet. But not for long. She calls and whispers and reminds me of how I thought life was supposed to turn out.

So, this week I have dreamed of reaching. I wish to reach out into the air and grab that place he has gone and pull it down toward me. Somehow I'm convinced that a heavenly glimpse will coat the grief and muffle her sound. But no matter how hard I try, my reach falls short.

So, instead of reaching upward, I shall reach inward. I shall look at memories and hear his voice and maybe listen to him tell a joke. I think that will make grief smile. Just for today.