January 10. Today makes three years. Sometimes it feels like it has been twenty-- twenty years since he has hugged me- twenty years since I have heard him say “I love you." Some days it feels like it was yesterday---holidays- birthdays- today.
They say it gets easier and it does. Day to day life gets back to normal for the most part. The quiet times are the worst. Family gatherings are filled with fewer tears and more laughter, but the void is still there. We all feel it, but we manage to enjoy each other’s company without the outward signs that we are mourning the absence of his.
But I don’t know that January 9th and 10th will ever be easier. I cry a lot those two days. Usually around the 5th I can tell that I am a bit more emotional than usual, but I manage to keep it together. When I cry, I make sure that I am alone so that no one will notice -- in the car-- in the shower --when everyone is asleep. But not on the 9th and 10th. On those days, there is no telling when I will fall apart.
The poor custodian at my school had to witness it last night. I had just left my gym and used the drive home- with a quick stop by the school- to have a very cathartic cry. He was minding his own business sweeping my classroom when I came through the door, bawling my eyes out. By the look on his face, it was apparent that he wasn’t expecting to see me just as much as I wasn't expecting to see him. I did manage to say “hi” quickly through the sniffles, but he just stood there, broom in hand, staring at me with his mouth agape. I grabbed the papers that I had left earlier from the corner of my desk, threw a half-smile his way, and quickly exited my classroom. When I got in the car, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw why he looked so startled. It was not my entrance into the room but my appearance that had alarmed him. With a disheveled ponytail from my recent workout and the fresh trail of mascara running down my cheeks, I looked more like a scary circus clown than a school teacher. I can only imagine what he was thinking during our encounter and the moments right after.
So today, January 10th, I will be a mess and only one thought away from losing it in front of my students and colleagues. However, tomorrow will be better. And the days to follow will too. And before I know it, summer will be here, and then fall, and then January will be back once again. And every January 9th and 10th, I will remember those days in 2015, and it will feel like just yesterday that I lost him. I will cry uncontrollably and at inconvenient times in my day, but maybe next time, only the people who understand what these days do to me will have to witness it.
"Losing Dad" Post: https://sweetcupsofchaos.blogspot.com/2017/04/
