It’s been almost three years since my dad died. We were estranged, a choice that was mine. And yet, grief still sneaks up on me.
Today I was baking peanut butter cookies, a holiday favorite, and my mind snapped back to the Christmas morning my parents gave me a Bianchi my dad had picked out for me. Moments like that were few and far between and cause a twinge of sorrow.
There are other times when I do expect to feel grief and it’s not any easier. My best friend and his wife moved into a beautiful house just beyond the cemetery where my dad is buried. On the way to their house Terry and I were cruising in the Mini with the top down, enjoying a perfect evening. When we passed by the cemetery, I could barely keep from vomiting. I sucked in gulps of cool air, blinked back hot tears, and tried in vain to listen to what Terry was saying.
I’m not really sure how to handle grief when it sneaks up on me. I’m entirely unsure how to handle it even when I know it’s coming. The truth is, sneaky or not so sneaky, it all hurts the same.