everything feels like defeat. achy, tired, weariness. we just hikedamountain. we just got home from war. we just did the biggest thing possible, without a pat on the back, without a parade, without a book deal, without a crowd, without being knighted. without a goddamn break. there is no one waiting for our return with a hot soup and a bed to catch us in.
get back to it.
take kids to school. fix the car. brush your teeth. stand up and sit down. say words. smile. answer the phone.
my dad is gone. i know where he is. i don't know where he is. god please let heaven be real. please be true. i need it .
i need my dad. please be here.
it wasn't supposed to happen that way.
i spend so much energy manipulating the images i see when i close my eyes, that i can't sleep. when i stumble on an image of him healthy and whole, i just keep thinking it. holding it there in front of my eyes. replacing it with the other images.
hold it there.
people die. people i know lost their dad or their mom. it happens. i'm in the club now. i'm one of those it happened to. i lost my dad. i lost him. where is he? he doesn't feel gone, but i can't call him. i can't hear him.
get back to it. the living.
how do we do that? how do we make this have meaning? how do you carry it ?