Bittersweet

Today is my father's birthday.

He would be 82. I never, ever imagined how much I would still miss him. Tears still come out of nowhere – any time, any place. Lately, though something else unexpected happens sometimes, too.... Laughter. Laughter comes out of nowhere. When I imagine what he'd say about something, or how he told a story, I can actually hear it. And I often laugh.

It is perhaps the most bittersweet feeling I have ever known... the initial chuckle as I envision his response, usually followed by the rush of leftover grief. Damn grief. Don’t think it’s gone. It’s never gone. Sometimes it sneaks in the back door, but mostly it races. It charges you, hurriedly, anxiously, as though it can’t wash over you fast enough. J.K. Rowling got it right on the mark. A dementor swoops in and it feels as though the happiness is being sucked out of you. You’re left with nothing except, perhaps, a little melancholy in its wake. Bittersweet. And then, often just as quickly, a smile returns. The happiness isn’t gone. Sometimes it just takes a break.

Sometimes I think I don’t like this ride. “Let me off!” I want to scream. The emotion’s intensity and swiftness of movement knock the wind out of me. But would I even know happiness without it? Were it not for the plunge, would it be recognizable to me? I begin to think I need this.

Thank God I can feel. Thank God I am safe. Thank God for these reminders, as they seem trite compared with the unspeakable nightmares others face every day. Thank God for my compassion, as I learn of those horrors. I don’t want to know them. Guilt churns inside me for feeling this way. Why was I blessed with this life? This family? This church, these friends, this job, this home.

Victims of disaster awe me. They continue to proclaim their faith in God, their thanks for their lives and help that has come. They grieve over many friends and family lost so tragically. They ache with fear, hunger, thirst, wounds. They pick themselves up. They pick each other up. They gain strength, certain that their God is with them. Doubt does not exist for them.

I miss my dad; that will not change. But he lived a good life. He had much to be thankful for. But it was time. He was ready to go home.

I have much to learn.