Yesterday we gathered together, friends and family, to do pysanky. Last year pysanky was interrupted. Cousin David and his family were on their way over when my dad died. It’s just one month shy of a full year. I don’t know how that’s possible. I still can feel the heaviness in the air in those days after my dad’s death. There was an otherworldly quality that lingered. I remember sitting out on the deck with Lisa and mom, feeling the air crinkling around me. Friends would visit and sit with us and we just sat there, in a state of shock and numbness.
Fast forward to now and my dad is gone but the family comes and we sit around the kitchen table with our styluses, wax, dyes and eggs. We talk about how it’s not the end result but the process of creating the egg. Cracked eggs teach us the ephemeral, temporal quality of life. And I think, yeah, Daddy’s not here anymore.
And in the midst of it is so much joy. Seeing the kids. Watching them get bigger. Introducing the E-Man to my family. Experiencing normalcy. At the end of the night, I hugged E and said, “Thank you for being so kind and sweet and friendly and talkative and normal!”
“How else would I be?” he replied.
If he only knew what I endured with PB.
But it’s over and I need to stop comparing him… it’s hard when everyone says, “It’s so nice to see you with someone so kind and sweet!”
Dad would be happy. If here were here.
I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like as spring appears… spring was always my dad’s favorite time of year. He loved the blooming trees and flowers.
11 months of unadulterated change.