The Waves

When I lived in Hawaii and used to go to the beach, people would always say not to turn your back on the waves when you're in the water. My grief is so similar to those beautiful waves I used to love to swim in. When it comes to missing my dad, I feel like I am always turned away from it so that when a wave hits, it always takes me by surprise. It comes like a a rush of water that quickly splashes over my whole body, tossing me about and often taking my breath away.

The funny thing is that it's not the expected things that bring the grief. It's the little things that create big waves that leave my heart physically sore in my chest. It's not Christmas Eve dinner or eating his famous breakfast on Christmas day. Instead it's seeing an old mans hand at the Temple that looks like his when I held it when he was sick. It's Keagan chewing bubble gum and the smell reminds me of his car. And it's my niece Kellie saying "who opened the gate?" in traffic just like he would say. Those are the little things that leave me breathless, fighting back tears, and missing him with every fiber of my being.

The good thing is, now that it's been 4 and a half years, the waves do reside. The swells of grief do slowly move back into the ocean. I never, EVER stop missing him or thinking about him and how everything would be so much different, easier if he were here. But I don't remain in the waves continuously like I did in the beginning. I still find great times of joy and peace just swimming in the water of my life. But I always know that as soon as I turn my back, another wave will hit. Each time it does I will let it come because it sometimes makes me feel closer to him and opens up the places in my heart that I too often keep closed.

One day I will learn to bravely turn towards to waves and embrace them. Until then I will keep swimming the best I can while I use all he taught me and my wonderful memories of him to help me float.

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