It has been just over a month since my dad died. In the immediate aftermath, I wasn't crushed like I had imagined I would be. I kept waiting for it, but I felt a strange sense of relief and peace. My dad had really suffered, and I was glad it was behind us. The waiting was horrible. I don't feel like there was anything left unsaid or undone. I know in my heart that he wanted for nothing and few people are lucky enough to be surrounded by that much love. What I find happening is that it sneaks up like a ninja, when I least expect it, and stabs me right in the heart.
Before my dad got sick I would go for a couple of weeks without seeing my parents, but I would talk to them a couple of times a week. Most of the time I was just catching up or would have a cooking question for my mom. If Dad didn't answer the phone, I would ask how he was doing but I didn't make a special point to talk to him.
Yesterday I went to the house to help my mom with something. I have been okay with that because I am at peace with my new reality, but the ninja struck when I saw his toothbrush still on the charger. All of the sudden I wasn't seeing this as him dying, I saw it as him being gone. There is a big distinction that I hadn't really considered. He isn't going to be there to answer the phone. He isn't there to start the birthday song. He isn't there to brush his teeth.
This really stinks.
