One Step at a Time

This morning I talked to my father on Skype. While I was in Arizona, I demonstrated this relatively new technology to him. At the time, he couldn't believe such a thing was possible. On my computer I could see Dad perfectly. Sitting in his striped pajamas, I noticed that his graying hair was tousled. Nearby on his desk sat a steaming cup of coffee and perched on his lap sat his dog, Prissy. It was good to see him up and living his daily life.

He was amazed to hear my voice through his computer. I could see it in his face! It was funny: Dad kept staring closer and closer into his computer screen. His face became larger and larger until I figured out that he could NOT see me! My dad is a bit challenged when it comes to his computer knowledge but he does better than most his age. I talked him gently through the necessary steps until my live image appeared on his screen together with my voice. My father started laughing hysterically.

"There's not enough time in the day," my dad, exclaimed. "I have to shower, buy chicken breast for the dog, boil it, work out, check my messages, do some yard work, and walk the dog. By then, the day is almost over!" he stated. I was thrilled to hear how busy he was keeping himself! I know he has his 'moments.' He tells me every day how much he loves and misses my mother. But I think he's going to be okay; he'll get there. Each day that I speak to him I become less and less worried. He's beginning to move forward through his grief, one step at a time.

Like my father and the rest of my family, I still have my 'moment's too. Yesterday, I finally unpacked from Arizona (it's been ten days). In my ragged suitcase I discovered a forgotten copy of Mother's obituary together with a few of her personal items that I chose to bring home with me. Things that wouldn't necessarily be important to anyone else, but items that are priceless to me. I carefully unwrapped Mom's sunglasses, a tube of her favorite lipstick, the comb that I used to fix her hair, and a daily prayer book that she read faithfully. I sat on the floor of my closet at the sight of these treasures and sobbed. After several minutes I placed them lovingly in the center of my favorite glass cabinet. Today I passed by them without crying. I only thought of how much I love and miss my mother. Although my mind knows she is gone, my heart keeps her very much alive.

Like my father, I'm beginning to move through my grief too, one step at a time.