i see his face on those of strangers

On November 3, 2009 my family suffered a great loss. As this day appears again this year, I find myself still feeling the same pain I sustained as a result of the loss of my Dad, as a result of watching him fight and being completely helpless to save him. Despite the distractions and new traditions I’ve created on this day, the pain, sorrow and longing for him seem to always push through. On this day especially, my brain is fixated. It repeats memories of him constantly; the pain haunts me and his absence reminds me of how much is different in my life.

The finality of his death has now set in. It no longer seems like he’s on vacation soon to return. I am fearful that I will forget how his hugs felt, and the sound of his voice as he said ‘good morning sweetie’ every time I arose grumpily from my bed. I miss him yelling at me to get lost when I went into their bedroom at night to talk to mom. I miss pranking him with the spray hose on the sink. I miss pushing his buttons to see how far I could get before he “lost his cool” (his words, not mine). I miss the sudden moments of softness that came in-between bouts of sarcasm. I yearn for our conversations about the sunsets, and who got the better shot. I miss him teaching me how to put on my snow tires. I miss walking through Dundas square as he was working on the Metropolis building. He would stand high on the edge of the building in anticipation of my arrival on my way to class. He’d wave with both hands and from down on the ground, I could see his big genuine smile. He was so happy to see me on those days. He introduced me to his coworkers, and just beamed with excitement. I miss hiding notes in his sandwiches that read “I love you Dad, have a great day at work”. I miss my mom telling me how much he bragged about me. I miss him calling me in a panic about what to get mom for her birthday. He always counted on my advice in that department, and I always counted on him.

Tears often dance down my cheeks because I know he cannot be replaced. And yet I still see him in strangers. I stop sometimes and stare in disbelief that maybe he just got lost and there he is; his face on the face of a stranger. I hear his voice amongst busy streets and it makes me scan the crowds to see if it’s him. I see him in cars as they zip by, and it leaves me breathless. I pray some nights for him to visit me in my dreams, so I can see him again because I know that the closest I’ll ever be to him is when I sleep. He visits my dreams less often then when he first passed away. I guess because his loss no longer consumes me like it did before.

I watch as Adam and Mom self-soothe their wounds and I’m left questioning how to help them heal. I want to help, but it then makes me socially accountable for my emotions. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that. We have rarely talked about him over the last two years, but this November third, we did. Mom and Adam spent time reminiscing about memories and we celebrated our sad day at the Keg ~ just the place that Dad would have chosen to meet if he were still here.

The frightening reality of this is that he’s gone; gone gone. And as the time passes, I become more and more fearful that in 10 years I won’t remember as much as I do now, I won’t feel the longing that I do. I wonder if after death there is a heaven, or if it’s eternal darkness. I pray it’s not the latter, so one day I can be reunited with him. On that day, I’ll give him a hug and never let go. 

It couldn't be any harder...