Looking For Calm

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” -Washington Irving

Yesterday was a difficult day for me. There was a great deal of good, for which I am thankful, but there was a sadness that I felt that bowled me over and left me feeling as though I had trouble catching my breath. I have been struck across the two and a half years since my father passed away at the power of grief. It comes in waves and feels akin to riding a rollercoaster: one minute you are being strapped in-anxious-confident-pumped up, you begin the climb up the track-nervous-excited-a little scared, the car arrives at the top-feeling terrified-overwhelmed-nauseous, you begin to descend-fear-stomach turn upside down-exhilaration, the ride down-freedom-panic-excitement, you pull into the station-thankful-still a little terrified-tingly, you stop-exhale breath-still scared-powerful, you exit your car-legs are shaky-difficult to walk-can hardly speak, you get back in line…

Yesterday was one of those rides and it was not because our beloved Patriots lost in the Super Bowl (although that hurt more than a little, and yes I wore my Pats hat proudly all day yesterday, which would have made my dad happy!)  My experience with grief is that it is unpredictable and sometimes relentless- it surfaces when it isn’t convenient, when there is too much to do, and often when I want to wish it away and not feel the unspeakable pain. Yesterday, as I watched the most recent episode of This is Us, the tears came, and I let them. Full body tears complete with the gut-wrenching sounds you hear when someone is in pain. These were my tears and my sounds yesterday, and I let them come. I had a couple of conference calls on my schedule and rather than go through the motions of those I canceled one of them, got dressed, put our dog in the car and together we drove out to Great Falls, which is a place that I find deep peace and solace. I cried most of the way out MacArthur Blvd, but when we arrived, I began to settle and Deja and I began our walk in the woods.

I have noticed that my Dad appears in the sky for me, in the clouds, in animals,  on the water and when I slow down enough, I can feel his presence in a profound and palpable way. And so as I walked, I let memories of my dad come pouring in. These memories stretch across my lifetime: mowing lawn on our small ride-on tractor, chopping wood, taking our small Boston Whaler Wavehopper out to watch the fireworks in Annapolis and getting beyond soaked, digging for clams, preparing and eating pot roast together, family ski trips with our dear friends, the Petersons, body surfing at North Beach, a heart attack at 50 and shortly thereafter seeing him phased out of a company where he had worked for 25 years, time with my children-his grandchildren-whom he adored, car trips to Cape Cod, Thanksgiving mornings, driving lessons on I-495, Friday night band concerts in Chatham, quiet dinners, watching my dad struggle with Depression, golden retrievers not one of which he loved more than the other, financial struggles, lacrosse games where he stood patiently, after driving several hours, and shagged balls while I was warming up in the goal cage, Brooks’ and my wedding at St. Christopher’s and reception at the home of my grandparents, a home my family had to sell, Easter at St. Columba’s and a really good hamburger with fries.

I am grateful for yesterday…grateful that I had the flexibility (because I do not work on Mondays) and took the time to be with my sadness. It can be easier to push through the grief-to not let it take hold because it can feel scary, tiring and out of control. And yet I am learning through my experiences as a mom, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a colleague and a friend that we all experience grief. We must find our way through,sometimes alone and sometimes by asking for help from those that we love. I am learning through my mediation practice that we must sit amidst the pain and be with the pain, even when it feels as though it is too much. And I will continue to sit, reflect, pray, write and share because it it helping me to heal and it slows me down so that I can truly cherish the memories that I have of the most loving, loyal, kind and gentle man that was my Dad.

Deja and I finished our walk, after a few selfies and lots of mud and headed home. I stopped for a very large order of fries and a plain hamburger (my dad did not eat cheese) from ZBurger. I ate every last bite, went upstairs for a 30 minute nap (my dad called them Stretch Outs-but he never slept during one), and awoke feeling tired, still a little sad but with a full heart. I love you Dad and miss you every single day.