Tuesday, August 9, 2016

eight miles high

Dear Dad:

It has been said that 'time heals all wounds.' I say that the person who conjured up this notion is a fucking idiot. Time has, in fact, proven to be quite the opposite and has been a sorry excuse for the inexplicable grief that has plagued my soul as a result your unfortunate departure.

Despite my best efforts in fallaciously fooling myself into accepting the fact that you are in a "better place," there are days that I am nothing but numb to the fact that you've been absent from the longest eight years of my life. The mere mental mien of your face leaves my mind in a motionless state of melancholy musings.

It wasn't until a few years after your cancer diagnosis when you verbally declared to me that you "weren't going to live to be an old man" that I realized you were coming to terms with your untimely forthcomings. It was an excruciating realization that we were both trying to wrap our heads around, but even then, it was nothing I could have ever prepared myself for. My immediate response to you was, "You are an old man," but as I look back now, you were anything but.

I think of you everyday and often wonder how different my life would be if you were still in it. Would you still have your boat? Would we still frequent Mr. Paul's? and quite possibly, my most burning question of all, what kind of grandpa would you have been? It takes my breath away just thinking about it, and it's something I will struggle with for the rest of my existence.

We are conditioned to comprehend that death is an inevitable part of life, yet its finality is truly unfathomable. Grief burns infinitely deep and it leaves a perplexing void that knows no boundaries. It's what makes or breaks us, and it's the only repercussion in life that reaps such permanence.

Today, I celebrate your life and the 26 years of memories you left me with. I may never comprehend all the fragmented "whys" that fester in my brain, but there is one thing I know for sure: I will forever be grateful for the day that you were there to see me enter your world, and I am equally as grateful for the day that I was there to see you exit mine.

I'll see you in my dreams,

jax

3 comments:

  1. Oh Jackie... It's completely and utterly unfair to make me cry while I'm at my desk, in my office, attempting to be a grownup. You have an amazing way with words, and I just want you to know that I ditto everything you just said about your dad and feel the same about mine. I just wish I could express the feelings as eloquently as you are able. Love you doll.. Publish a book!

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  2. I had to start/stop reading this a few times today before I could get through it. The grandfather my kids never got to meet and make laugh will never get easier to miss. Sending you lots of love today sister.

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  3. This was a beautiful dedication that only you could write the way you do Jackie. He will live on through you and your writings. So a part of him will always remain here forever.....

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