Ever get lost in a vivid memory? I do.
I’m 24 years old, it’s May 1, 2010. It’s the first nice day in Vancouver after a long, rainy winter. I’m wearing flip flops, spring is in the air and the sun is shining through my window – things are going my way and I’m feeling really good…maybe too good. The phone rings, it’s my Dad. We are speaking about the weather and my Saturday night plans…”be careful tonight and I love you”…”love you too Dad”. Being 4,374 kilometres from a person who raised you into the person you have become is never easy, but hearing their voice daily eases the void.
It may have been easier being a sudden shock? A quick shot to the gut – making me (at times) feel super selfish because I’m not a fan of goodbyes…I mean, how do you say goodbye to someone who taught you how to be a strong leader, love not hate (because hate is a strong word!) and to “work hard and strive for excellence”. Sure, there were trying times, but at the end of the day these are the things that stand true – the rest doesn’t matter.
To be honest, I didn’t grieve because everything was so convoluted with shock and trying to be okay. The love and words of those around me made it easier but the heavy layers wouldn’t ease the void nor was I ready to talk feelings or acknowledge what happened for quite some time. My best friend told me that grief gets easier but it never completely goes away and this stands true.
The strangest things spark feelings, memories and flashbacks. When the feelings seep in, I go for breakfast – it was our thing. They say no regrets, right? Well, forget that because I have one. I regret not having him come to Vancouver to see me doing my thing near the sea. He loved the beach and I would have loved to show him mine. However, I’ve learned to be okay with this as every time I come along the path and see the view, I feel him here with me.
