Father's day came and went. No one mentioned it. My wife is away with her friend in Nantucket, enjoying one of her favorite places. I miss her. I miss our talks and just sitting together without talking. I miss holding her at night, spooning and touching. But I am happy she is having a good time.
Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of Pop's death. When my mind goes back to last year and all the death that happened, I see now that no one could have helped me to move through it. I simply needed to have grief run its course.
A Jewish friend mentioned that probably what I longed for was something like shiva. I needed to have a supportive community around me. And since that didn't occur with visitors at the house, I did what I needed to do which was to feel miserable without a time limit. To allow the feelings to be there and to not shut them off. To crawl back into bed and curl up into a ball.
I am in a different place now. I miss those that aren't here, but I am not grieving. I am glad to know that for this day, so far, all is okay. I have stayed busy with the garden, picking blueberries, getting a new tire on the car, taking care of the animals, and working out. At night, I am tired in a good way. A deep-boned kind of tired that let's me know that I have done a lot of things that needed to be done.
On Father's Day, I took the boat out and sailed for five hours. It was a bright, summer day with good wind. There were little sailboats in a regatta and a lot of other large sailboats on the water. The time was peaceful. I wish my own dad had been there. He would have liked the sail. But I was simply glad for the opportunity to be where I was, enjoying the "whump" of the genoa as I backwinded it and came about. Simple pleasures. Summer in one of the most beautiful places. A different state of mind from last year---thankfully.