Sneaky

Grief is sneaky.

It's been a year and a half since my Dad died. These days, I go whole stretches when I feel pretty ok about the whole thing. Of course I miss him. I'll always miss him. But the grief doesn't feel quite so raw, and I go stretches of time when I feel like it's all relatively ok. And then...

Something set me off this weekend. I'm not even entirely sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that Mumford & Sons released a new song, and Mumford makes me think of my Dad because when the guys went to Montana for his 70th, they listened to Mumford exclusively. Maybe it was going to brunch with my uncle (his little brother) and aunt (and many others) yesterday. Maybe it was a combination of these things.

Maybe it's that I feel him so keenly right now, because I'm getting into the weeds of my work year, with walks coming soon, and his voice is in my head almost constantly, telling me I'm doing ok, everything will be ok...

In these moments, it just hits me all over again, that I can't go to see him, get one of his renowned hugs, hear his voice somewhere other than inside my own head.

When E was one, he bought her a stuffed animal. We were out shopping for B's birthday party, and she came across a polar bear at LL Bean that she liked. We had her put it back on the shelf, but Papa snuck back and got it, and bought it for her. She thought it was a dog. We named it Bear Dog. She knows it was a gift from Papa, and it's her favorite stuffed animal. The other night when she had a bad dream, she wouldn't go back to sleep until I handed her Bear Dog to clutch.

It gets easier, I guess, for the  most part. But I still have mornings when I find myself sitting at my computer, crying for missing him.

That's the hardest part. Just missing him. I've gotten past the WHAT and WHY of it, for the most part. But the missing him never goes away.