At a loss

This phrase, “at a loss,” makes more sense to me than ever, in the sense that being at a loss is such a central part of loss–that feeling of being disorganized inside, undone.

People talk about how when someone dies we still have them with us inside, in a way.  And I feel this.  But it’s not the same thing as having them here, alive.  Obviously.  But in a way none of this grief thing has been obvious.  It puts us at a loss, undoes us.  We don’t know how to handle it, how to stand it.  Different and contradictory emotions wash over us, restructuring us.  

My father’s voice was so strong, I can’t number the amount of times I can imagine what he’s say about something.  This isn’t an idealizing comment–many of the things were irritating or worse.  Some were wonderful.  And they’re are still circulating, still operational in my mind.  But also not quite as here as they were.  I feel both relieved and bereft of the challenging things, and bereft and somehow satisfied by the wonderful things.  

Complicated.  Disorganizing.

Today though I lolled about with a cold, which wasn’t such a bad thing though unpleasant.  Being sick makes me lighten up the pressure on myself to accomplish things, and aware of the need to be self-nurturing, which as I recall having been told is especially important in these times of being socked in the belly, or even gently nudged, with loss.  

It occurs to me these are things I could be doing anyway, all the time.  

Baby steps.

And a little bounding, I admit; I slipped in a little run so as to not get totally off my training, and to get my circulation going.  I seem to be obsessed–how shocking.  

My dad was that way too.

 

Explore posts in the same categories: Body-mind, Grief, Memory, Running, death, loss

Tags: death, father, Grief, loss, Memory, Running, self-care

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