Sketch by my amazing daughter, Bryn
There’s a pillar candle in the center of my kitchen island. When unlit, it sits there, ignored. Once the wick is lit, the wax warms and a cinnamon scent flavors the air. Grief is like that. It’s always there, holding space, whether I pay attention to it or not. Then, on occasion, something lights the frigging wick, and loss permeates everything.
It’s been a little over eight months since the death of my beloved father, Gary Riley. The other day I poured over a photo album and it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good to reminisce; a healing milestone. Yea, me!
Then, this morning happened.
To the sounds of an upbeat, 80s playlist, I cleared away the last of the Halloween décor. Energized, I dotted the front room with some favorites from the Christmas bins. When I say I was cheerful, I was singing loud enough to make my lab, Cooper, wary. The Mountain’s Gonna Sing, by Steep Canyon Rangers played over the speaker. I crooned in tune those first lines and then, broke down in tears. I slumped on the couch next to the traumatized dog and cried it out. The next song began and I wiped my eyes, stood, and put the lid back on the Christmas tub.
Dad and Mom got me Audrey Rose and Luminol for my birthday
My birthday’s coming up, the first I’ll experience without Dad. Every year he was the first to text me, ‘Happy Birthday, my girl!’ And inevitably, he’d tell me the story of my birth; how fast I came into the world; who brother Garth stayed with during the big event; and then, always, he’d tell me how much he loved me. I still have last year’s thread on Messenger and plan to start my day with coffee and a few minutes with Dad’s last words.
No doubt this is the key reason the Christmas decorating triggered my grief, but truth is, there’s nothing predictable about grief. We don’t heal on a schedule. In fact, I understand I’ll miss my dad often for the rest of my days because he was the kind of person that left one helluva void. It’s the ultimate compliment. My incredible mother-in-law, Betty Hotes, occupies that hallowed shelf as well.
So, dear ones, as the holidays approach, let’s make room for grief. Let’s be proactive and give ourselves permission to be a mess and unpredictable and high and low and high again. Let’s forgive ourselves for our tears and, maybe even more so, for the times we catch ourselves having fun and feel guilt for not missing our loved ones more. We know that’s ridiculous, right? Right?!?
I’ll be in touch over the next weeks, checking in to make sure you are okay. I’ve got funny stories to share here as well. Might as well laugh through the tears! Until then, sending you and yours love and well-being. <3 Jennifer
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By Jennifer Hotes · Launched 8 months ago
Life, love, loss, pain, victory, and all it is to be a soul in a meat suit