Tuesday, 26 February 2013
I Miss You
Next month it will be Five years.
Years that have moved far to quickly, at a pace that seems impossible.
Years that have moved so slowly, so incrementally, that it feels like just yesterday that you left us.
And so I continue to walk that strange path of grief - putting one foot in front of the other, mostly continuing to move forward, yet occasionally feeling like I'm not going anywhere. Over the years, it has become easier to feel you walking with me, even though I am unable to see or hear you beside me. But I know you are there.
There are moments where I feel your presence more than others - moments when you feel so close that my heart aches and I feel a hollowness inside me that begs to hear your voice one last time, to hear your laugh, to feel your arms around me as you give me a hug. These are the moments where I miss you most. Where I wish I could sit across from you at the kitchen table and tell you all about what's been happening in my life. Where I wish I could pour you another coffee as you tell me about the crops you have planted. Where I could ask for your advice or guidance - or just see the look in your eyes that says you are proud of me and all that I've accomplished.
These are the moments where I allow myself to weep, to mourn you, to wonder how life can possibly go on without you in it. To not even try to pretend that I have an understanding of why God called you home when we were not yet ready to let you go.
And I feel you there, patiently standing beside me - your presence reminding me to be gentle with my soul, filling my hollowness with boundless love, easing the ache in my heart. Your presence dries my tears, and gives me the courage and strength to keep moving forward, safe in the knowledge that you will always be there. What a beautiful gift you have given me.
I miss you Dad. And I always will. Thank you for walking with me.