I decided early on that I wouldn’t be going to all four of my classes today, two in which attendance is mandatory. I could’ve but I didn’t want to. So no, I guess I couldn’t have gone to every class, interacted with people, and pretended that it was a normal day.
If this was a normal day, I would have been able to call my dad across the oceans, remind him that yes it is indeed his birthday again, ask him if he got whatever gift my brothers and I might’ve sent him, and it’s going to sound silly, wonder like I did every year if I’d ever get to see him blow out candles one day.
It’s been a few months since he officially died, but I guess I haven’t completely understood what normal is yet. Nor do people officially die if you love them.
Grief is the ocean. It’s deep and dark and bigger than all of us.
And pain is like a thief in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair.
Diminished by time, faith, and love.