the phone call
and the day my world came crashing down
The phone call I received…
“We’re sorry…”
“I’m sorry to tell you this…”
“He wasn’t in pain”
“My condolences”
All the words I heard that literally sent shock waves through my body. My father, my wonderful, smart, and caring father had died. It didn’t seem real. I had just spoken to him only hours before. But he was gone.
And I was left bereft.
The vacuum left by a person’s passing is enormous. I have sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, my eyes puffy with a sadness that is incomprehensible.
How do I move forward without my dad?
The phone call I didn’t receive…
Easter morning arrived, but the phone didn’t ring. No call about church that morning. No call about lunch together afterwards.
Nothing but silence.
The first holiday without my dad with many more to come. No holidays spent together at all. Not anymore.
My birthday is this week, and it is the first one since my birth and entry into this world, that he won’t be here for. No phone call, wishing me many returns and hoping that I have a good day.
I won’t be receiving a phone call.
My daughters always looked forward to spending time with their grandfather and talking to him about how they are doing in school and what creative outlets interest them at the moment.
No phone call to say we’re on our way to spend time together.
No one tells you that when you lose a parent that you were particularly close to, that part of you dies as well. The part that has the memories only the two of you knew about. Like, all of the times in elementary school he would write little notes for me on my sack lunch. Or all the times he helped me with my homework when I was stuck on a problem. Or the times right after I got my driver’s license and he was in the passenger seat, pressing down on an imaginary brake, thinking I needed to stop sooner rather than later.
I miss my dad, and the grieving process is hard. It comes in waves, and I just ride them out. I miss his voice, and I miss our interesting conversations.
I love you Dad. I know Grandma welcomed you with open arms. I miss you both so much.
xx Mackenzie
I'm so, so sorry for your loss, Mackenzie. Those words will never be enough to make an impact... but I know this is an unimaginable loss and I am truly sorry you are in this place. One that will change you in many ways, now and forever. I hope you're taking good care of yourself. Years ago, during a hard time, a friend said "your only job is to eat one healthy meal a day and drink water." I've held onto that advice, and will pass it along forever.
So hard to say goodbye to the physical body. You are in my thoughts.