My dad died in February and, after the deep sorrow of his passing, I’m finding myself bemused by the ending of my relationship with him. Its almost as if he’s still here but somehow no longer progressing along with the rest of us. His belongings, and his various projects are still there and I talk about them belonging to him as if he were still here. I was looking for lawnmower keys and I was checking his coats which are still hanging in his workshop. There was nothing in his pockets but a set of small allen keys. I shrugged and replaced them, but the process wasn’t different from how it would have been if he’d been down in the house, still alive, and I was searching for keys.
Maybe its a coping mechanism, or maybe the human brain takes time to process the reality that someone as important as a parent is no longer here. Maybe though, he is still with us, in a manner of speaking, because the past versions of all of us are out of reach, and the current versions of us become the past versions almost immediately. I have the past version of my dad just as much as I have the past version of my mum, and she’s very much alive. Its just that, as time passes, the past version slips further and further into the past. Maybe that’s how its supposed to be. Like walking away slowly and looking back, once in a while, to see someone get smaller as the time and distance passes.
Whatever it is, I will miss him for the rest of my life.