Truth be told, this past week was no bargain either. I have been living under a black cloud of sorts ever since my visit to SunTrust bank to close out my parent's checking account. The melancholy that has settled over me, combined with a very painful neck and an expiring air conditioner and furnace replacement bill has made for a bad week indeed. Yes, I know...poor, poor, pitiful me. There's nothing worse than reading a whiny blog, especially when it proceeds from someone who has been as formidably blessed as I have.
Still, I miss him terribly. And this week I will find it difficult to say anything new on the subject. I will republish pieces I wrote a year ago when it was fresh, the one I wrote at 2am the morning after he died, the euology I gave at his funeral, and a story I wrote about about what it was like to be the 13 year old son of Emmett Dunnevant.
This week I'll run the risk of boring you. Some of you might find yourselves annoyed by it all, and honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you did. I made the ridiculous statement in Dad's eulogy that I was "done with grief." In hindsight, that may have been the single most ignorant thing to ever come out of my mouth. I may have felt Iike I was done with grief, I know I hoped I was, but the truth is that grief wasn't done with me. Most of the time it leaves me alone. Weeks pass when I am free of it. But then I stumble upon a memory, and it storms back to life.
My grief isn't about regret, there is no unfinished business, no words that should have been spoken. It's simply about sadness and loss, the finality of death. The problem is that he is forever gone, permanently removed from this realm. While my faith promises eternal life, it doesn't promise to bring my Dad back in time for dinner tonight. It doesn't promise to let me take him to a ballgame again. It doesn't allow me to tell him about the amazing year that Kaitlin had as a second year teacher in Columbia, South Carolina. It doesn't allow me to tell him about Patrick's adorable girlfriend. There is a vast, permanent chasm between him and me. I am learning how to live with it, and most of the time I manage very well. But not this week. The calendar has unleashed a fury of memories.
