Dark and early I rise. The air smells of looming moisture, clouds cover mornings glow. Coffee is brewing as I make my way down the stairs. Jacket, shoes, a warm mug; I head out. No stars to see. The world feels isolated. The void real. Almost made it to my first sip without you crossing my mind today. I meander down a new path and pause to stare across the water. Lost in thought, but no longer lost completely.
I’ve stopped looking for the piece of me I lost. Still readily apparent, still real. A cut finger tip that doesn’t constantly occupy your mind, but comes rushing to the forefront when reaching for something out of habit. Events and accomplishments, struggles and disappointments, life to be shared with ones closest friend, mentor, advisor; habitual reaching and abrupt recall of the injury. Are these morning rituals, walking and writing, healing the wound or keeping it open? It has closed substantially, but seems it may never close completely.
Another night in a reclining hospital chair, another morning of stale coffee from the cafeteria, for one more scruffy hug – I would gladly take the opportunity.
Deep are the memories of our final year. Strong the bond. A love I will cherish eternal.
How young I feel at times, wanting, needing, yearning. Yet revolutions continue. Forward we go; holding more dearly what is, knowing more sincerely mortality.
Know that we are okay. Know that we all still miss you. Know that we look at photos and remember even the simplest times. Know that your grandson speaks of you often. Know that we are greatful for what was. Know that we are okay.
We will be okay.
The Upside of Down - an update on hope, love, and oncology 
oh my gosh Richard how wonderful to hear your voice, I’ve missed your thoughts and word pictures so much. I lost my Dad quite the opposite way you lost yours – mine was killed in a traffic accident, so just gone. There is no easy way to lose someone whether it be lingering or sudden, but I am familiar with the tsunamis that come crasing down, triggered by the most innocent thoughts or things. It takes so much time, but there comes a day when memories don’t cause pain and bring tears but instead evoke a smile and a memory to cherish. I have a blue CCA bracelet on my living room table to think of Kevin every day as well – he is here present with so many people. Thank you for checking in with us all.
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Richard, the missing of a loved one doesn’t get easier, you just learn to live with the heartache each day. I take great comfort in telling friends stories of happier times. Cherish those moments!
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Awe. I hear ya. Cooking dinner and reading my emails. I was lucky enough to have my Dad live with us the last 8 years of his life. Whenever I would cook he would meander out for a taste and I was just thinking of him prior to turning to my email for distraction. You are right, you are okay and will be okay. Some days or weeks are harder than others. Like you, my Dad and I were able to have some amazing conversations before he passed and I am forever grateful for that. It’s okay to rely on family and friends to share your sorrows and burdens…they will lift your spirits:)
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It’s interesting how the everyday tasks can trigger a flood of thoughts, memories and transport you back to those times together! Your Dad had every reason to be proud of the man you have become Richard. We love you dear son-in-law. Thanks for a beautifully written and expressed passage!
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beautifully written, as always, Richard. And so nice to see you pop up into my email again. Your dad is never far from my mind as I navigate Pyxis-life without one of the best partners-in-crime out there with me.
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Thank you for your sharing your thoughts once again. I often find Kevin weighing on my mind. I know he is with all of us giving us strength and telling us that it’s going to be okay. I still find myself reaching for my phone to seek guidance and a laugh, wanting to commiserate with him on something that’s just so ridiculous. We miss your Dad too. Stay strong!
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Just saw this today . I could have written all that about myself . It still is so fresh . I think of he and pop working in the garage together and my heart yearns to go back to that day we turned the corner on Copperstone and there was your dad and your kids balloons in hand to welcome us to our new home. I am continuing to go forward and am so thankful for the years we had with Your mom and dad but my heart will always yearn for more . Love to you and family Marilyn (and Nams)
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