“Grief is the
price we pay for love.” – Queen Elizabeth II
My Dad died in early
February, but I don’t think I really realized he was gone until October 25, my birthday.
That was the first time in my whole life that he didn’t sing “Happy Birthday,”
give me some kind of gift and tell me how special I was to him.
I don’t remember
much about my childhood birthdays – they were always well-celebrated with a cake
and some kind of party. I do remember every grown-up birthday I had – up until
this year – my Pop would call in the morning, sing “Happy Birthday” over the
phone, and tell me how clearly he remembered the day I was born and how very
special I had been to him ever since. He called me “Beeps” or “Little Beeper,”
and I could hear in his voice, how very much
he did, indeed, love me.
In later years,
he sent a card with a pickle on the front and a $100 bill ( or Ben, as he
called them) inside; where he found all those pickle cards, I do not know.
But this year,
even though I half expected it all day long, he didn’t call. There was no song.
There was no pickle card. There was no Pop.
Grief is an odd
meandering beast that comes and goes in strange ways and at strange times – for
me, usually when I least expect it. This year my family was visiting on my
birthday – kids, sister and my Dad’s wife. It was so nice to be together simply
enjoying the lake and each other’s company. It had been a rough year for us all,
with my Dad’s long illness and then the shock and sadness of his death. The
weather was perfect and there was so much love and laughter in the air. We, of
course, spoke of him fondly and wished he was there, but somehow the happiness was
bigger than the hole…
Until, late in
the day - my birthday - I realized I will never see my Pop again. I will never
hear his voice or see his handwriting again. He really is gone forever, now only
present in memories. Those were the first real tears I’ve cried since he
passed, the first real gut wrenching sobs I’ve sobbed…gone, my Pop is really
gone…
My therapist
said I “hit the wall of loss” that day and yes, for the first time probably did
realize that my Dad Pop is gone. She says I have a year of “anniversaries” –
times and dates that were significant to him and I, and that after I get
through this first year, the “anniversaries” will get easier…or not.
And, so the journey
begins. The emotional fog I was apparently living in has lifted and now I have
to grieve for my Pop. That’s not much of a birthday present, but it’s a
necessary step down a path that will probably stretch ahead of me for a long
time…
I’m thankful for
all of those “Happy Birthday” songs and pickle cards and fond memories my Dad shared
of his “Beeper” as a baby, child and grown up. I had a really good Dad for
nearly 59 years and that’s a lot of years, especially when they are filled with
love…Oh, Pop! I miss you so much.
