It’s been a month since Dad died. I still can’t utter the words without tearing up a bit, even though it feels like a bad dream and not part of my everyday reality.
I felt bad because I slid right back into my regular routine once I returned to Vancouver. But, Mom and I were talking on Skype on the weekend, it’s the same for her – shuffleboard, choir practice volunteering at the museum. Nothing has changed.
On the surface it made me feel very insignificant. Life goes on and all that.
But under the surface, there is still that great well of sadness. The feeling of loss that never quite leaves you.
I’ve see women (and men) go the weak widow(er) route. Vital people, who curl into themselves and wait for death to claim them after they lose their spouse.
It’s a sad thing to watch.
Even though we’ve lost our father way too soon, my brothers and I are very lucky.
Mom and Dad had a very active social life. When we look at Dad’s empty recliner, it’s not a gaping hole because except for afternoon soaps and late evening, Dad rarely had time to sit in it.
I’m relieved that Mom has chosen to continue living and keep up with most of their activities. Way to go MOM!