Yesterday was National Take Your Kids to Work Day. Of course I took my son to work with me. He was quite excited by the prospect. Then we got off the elevator and he must have remembered his visit from last year when my dad was still alive. Something in him just went quiet and sad. Seeing your child go through the same emotion you go through every day when you go to work is unsettling to say the least. I felt helpless because there was nothing I could do about it.
I regretted bringing him to work. But it was too late to take him back home. So I told him that what he was feeling is how I felt everyday. He said, "Because you worked with your dad." There were times when he forgot he was sad, like when they were looking down at the heliport off the FDR and seeing if any would blow up or crash.
Someone else was now occupies my dad's desk space. There was a moment when he stood by a cabinet containing my dad's cases. I didn't see my dad's name on the cabinet labels but my son did. He stood on that spot, pointed to it and broke down in tears. Cry for me kid, because it's just odd when a grown woman bursts into tears for no reason. I did that earlier this week. Got to work, tried to out run my emotions but they caught up to me in the elevator. I barely got to my desk, drop my bag, before I had to run out of there, furiously rubbing my eyes, sniffling and hoping to God someone was going to think I had allergies.
So I was dreading picking up my dad's car from the garage. The battery died a few months ago and we never got around to taking it to the garage. That seems to be the pattern for me when it comes to dealing with my dad's death. It was odd not picking up my dad's car. Odder still was getting behind the wheel and driving home.
I spent a lot of time in the passenger seat of my dad's car. The sound of the automatic door lock when you put the car into gear is actually comforting. It took me a few minutes to get used to driving the car. I haven't driven it in a few months. It's odd but something about being in that car just drags my mind back to the time I spent in it with my dad. I remember my last two drives with my dad. The first one was when I drove with him to the store after leaving Pho Mac and the second was when I drove him, in my car, to the airport.
The images meld in my mind and somehow, his presence is there, beside me, larger than life in my mind. I miss him. Life is continuing. Missing him is very different from missing my mom. Sometimes, I feel like the alien from the movie and the grief is a broken pod of goop from which I'm emerging. Maybe this version of me will be better than their predecessors.
I regretted bringing him to work. But it was too late to take him back home. So I told him that what he was feeling is how I felt everyday. He said, "Because you worked with your dad." There were times when he forgot he was sad, like when they were looking down at the heliport off the FDR and seeing if any would blow up or crash.
Someone else was now occupies my dad's desk space. There was a moment when he stood by a cabinet containing my dad's cases. I didn't see my dad's name on the cabinet labels but my son did. He stood on that spot, pointed to it and broke down in tears. Cry for me kid, because it's just odd when a grown woman bursts into tears for no reason. I did that earlier this week. Got to work, tried to out run my emotions but they caught up to me in the elevator. I barely got to my desk, drop my bag, before I had to run out of there, furiously rubbing my eyes, sniffling and hoping to God someone was going to think I had allergies.
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| I remember taking this picture towards the end of summer on a Sunday after church |
I spent a lot of time in the passenger seat of my dad's car. The sound of the automatic door lock when you put the car into gear is actually comforting. It took me a few minutes to get used to driving the car. I haven't driven it in a few months. It's odd but something about being in that car just drags my mind back to the time I spent in it with my dad. I remember my last two drives with my dad. The first one was when I drove with him to the store after leaving Pho Mac and the second was when I drove him, in my car, to the airport.
The images meld in my mind and somehow, his presence is there, beside me, larger than life in my mind. I miss him. Life is continuing. Missing him is very different from missing my mom. Sometimes, I feel like the alien from the movie and the grief is a broken pod of goop from which I'm emerging. Maybe this version of me will be better than their predecessors.
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