Grief in Winter: I Miss You Always

Every time I’m in my backyard, especially alone, I think of my father. Sometimes I smile and say “Hi, daddy.”

Other times, the pang grips at my heart and I’m overcome with my grief. My eyes swell with tears and I want to fall to my knees and scream.

There was so much more for us. There were more holidays and movies and food. And there was laughter and silly grandbabies crawling on him and playing games.

There was so much more for him. For us. For my sister and my mother. I always ask “why you, why now, and why that way?” And then I feel the guilt for feeling that way because why anyone?

My backyard has become a place where I picture him well and picture him ill and I am haunted by what was and what can no longer be.

Oh, daddy; it is now, while the winter wraps its chilling tendrils around me, that I most crave the warmth of you. I remember as you lay dying, the feeling of your heat. I wanted to remember your heat before I felt your cold skin. And I so do remember it but the longing, the longing is brutal.

I so wish I could just see you again. Give you more hugs and hold your hand again and have you be whole. I wish I could look at you and laugh with you. I wish I could feel your heat. I wish you could feel your heat. I wish I could feel your heartbeat.