At night, when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself. Talking to the moon. Trying to get to you. In hopes, you’re on the other side, talking to me too
I’ve wanted to sit down for several days now I flop all of my feelings out in writing in hopes that maybe it would help ease my mind and give my soul some peace. Although I don’t know if it will do much good.
I’ve remarked to Colby several times the past few weeks, how interesting it is that the realization that Popster has passed away hits me every time like the first time. This usually is something that I remember as Colby has fallen asleep and I’ve blinked at the ceiling wide awake. I remember and it hits me so hard it takes my breath away. . .it causes a flooding of memories that only incr
eases the deep sadness I feel. It makes me wish that I sat at his table in Country Cookin’ a bit more when it was slow, while he sipped on his pink lemonade, instead of wiping down the sweet tea counter 5 times just to look busy. It makes me wish I had stopped in more often when I went on walks up Ivy Mountain to clear my head. Makes me wish I had enjoyed the huge scoop of chocolate chip ice cream we shared while watching old westerns when I was a kid. I kick myself for taking those moments for granted.
I feel so blessed to have been able to fly back into Roanoke and spend so much quality time with him. I was also fortunate enough to have some time alone with him, and just let him know how much I love him and how with everything in me I would miss him. I can’t help but feel like I should have said so much more. I think myself back into that moment and wish I had expressed so much more.
I know I am still in a level of denial that everything has happened. It becomes evident through little things. . . .like putting together a list of names for my sealing and reception in October, and realizing he isn’t here. Thinking that I need to make deviled eggs because everyone was coming over for dinner and they are Popster’s favorite. Making a mental note of an exciting moment to tell him when I skype him again. Each of those moments is followed by the sinking and heartbreaking loss like I just watched it happen all over again.
I think of all of the losses I’ve experienced this might have hit the hardest. There hasn’t been the same level of comfort because of the circumstances. I never thought cancer was going to impact someone I loved, as well as my family like it now has.
Growing up I recall friends expressing their sadness of a Grandparent passing away, and I never understood the grief they had because I had only experienced my Great Grandparents passing away, and I found so much comfort in knowing they had a really long life and they were ready. I understand now, and I wish I didn’t.
I think I was confident that my Grandparents would live just as long as my Great Grandparents. I feel like because I had convinced myself that this was a fact [That Popster would be alive for another 20yrs] I have a lot of anger built up. I wanted Popster to be there for when I got sealed in the Temple. I wanted him to travel to Canada to visit Colby and I, I wanted him to meet my children. I feel robbed.
So. I guess I’ll continue to blink at my ceiling at night, choke back the tears and pray that I find comfort somewhere. . .. sometime soon. I hope that instead of my memories causing a heartache that I can’t escape until I fall asleep at night, that they will be a sense of comfort for me.
Until then, I’ll just close my eyes and imagine myself as a child engulfed in a tight hug of a big burly man and the exclamation “How ya doin!?”