Tears in a bottle

Grief is such a strange thing.  I never anticipated that today it would wash over my soul like a tsunami.   Carlos had an appointment this morning on Jefferson Street……mean anything to you? Yep, meant nothing to me either, until we pulled into the parking garage and walked to the elevator.  The sign on the elevator said “to access the rehab, please use the 4^th floor.” And then it slowly started dawning on me……rehab. As we walked past the courtyard I had this horrid suffocating feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I had stood several floor above and looked out into that very courtyard 6 years ago and waved to my two little boys who were playing with my mom as I was visiting and having the very last conversation this side of heaven with my daddy.  I remember so vividly standing at that huge plate glass window talking about normal life with my dad.  Never realizing or even imagining that this was the last conversation I would ever have with him.  Oddly enough he told me that day that he was still praying and believing that I would get pregnant!  That’s one reason why we named Ben after my dad…..Benjamin Lawrence.  That day is so precious in my memory and yet so painful.

And that pain came crashing down on me.  It took all my strength to walk into that building.  I wanted to turn and run.  And it opened the flood gates.  I’ve never cried so much in a public place in my life and I couldn’t stop the tears……they wouldn’t stop……all day long.  I’ve learned something about myself over the years…..I’m good in a crisis…..I’m level headed……not overly emotional……I get through it. I do what it takes.   And then I crash and burn.  And honestly our life has been somewhat of a crisis for the last 6 years……I never had time to allow myself to crash and burn.  To really grieve my daddy’s death……to cry……to mourn……..to wish with every ounce of my being that he were still alive (and not force that thought away because I couldn’t deal with it). 

So where does it leave me now……I honestly don’t know.  But I do know this, my heart aches to travel back to that moment in the rehab building and savor every moment, every second of that last conversation.  But I know it’s not enough.  One day, I will be able to have that conversation……not in a cancer rehab center, but on streets of gold in heaven.