It’s been over a year since he died.
Dad, Papa, Dominick, teacher…friend. The list of who he was and who he still is in our lives is much longer than those five words, but they say enough. “Time flies when you’re having fun” and even when you are simply living life. With five kids the days are long but the months disappear. There does not seem to be much time for reflection. Or maybe it is truer to say that there are some things I choose not to reflect on because it means my world may come crashing in and I need to keep going. I’ve had lots of practice in the art of moving on. It does not get any easier but I have deemed it necessary. This sort of reasoning does not belong to children.
Our world came crashing in last night. It was late and inconvenient. I was doing the school laundry, picking through the socks and tights when my almost twelve-year-old son came through door and leaned in on my shoulder.
He wept for his Papa.
It was heart-felt and heart wrenching. There were few words I could offer as I embraced my man-child. He cried. I did not. I chose to be brave and put those feelings to the side for the sake of my son. I could not go there with him and comfort him at the same time. He is old enough to know what he has lost this side of heaven. His knowing may be the hardest part of the grief for me. But I am also proud of him, proud that he is unashamed to cry – that his desire to express the sadness outweighs the urge to suppress it.
“God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth.” Matthew 5:4-5
Sometimes, writing gives me the opportunity to express what I have not released any other way. I am thankful for this gift. It seems I am not the only one. My desktop sidebar has a small virtual notepad. There on the bright yellow square, one of our little girls typed this :
“I miss Papa. I miss playing games, him”
I miss him, too.
