When someone you love dies, the grief in your heart can be so powerful, so loud, it's with you no matter what you do. After a certain amount of time, sadness becomes background noise that you may not even hear over the clamor of everyday events and appointments. You don't forget, but for the most part, normal life takes over again.
But I'm finding that grief comes in cycles, and it's been hitting me hard the past month or so. Lately, I miss so much.
I miss standing in front of the house as I watch my kids play and talk to you on the phone. And suddenly, an hour or two have gone by.
I miss how adventurous your cooking and baking was (Banana split bread! Zucchini pie!).
I miss how you could love ten "different" shades of paint, although every one of them was beige to me.
I miss how you bought armfuls of Halloween costumes for the kids for 75-90% off after the holiday was over.
I miss shopping with you. It was a family activity often done after 9:00 pm. It was like going on a treasure hunt, but with coffee.
I miss how you'd say, "Let's go to show," when you wanted to go to the movies.
I miss having someone in my family (except my dear husband) who likes science fiction and fantasy. If only I could have showed you that I would write sci-fi and fantasy someday.
I miss your advice on being a parent.
I miss your confidence in me, and I'm so grateful for it, because it made me who I am today.
I miss being with you.