Rainbows and Darkness

I drove to work today in silence. The streets were wet, and the sun was hidden by a heavy darkness that covered the city. I knew this day would come and go just like it has every year for the last 13 years. This year was different, though. I felt such a sadness and a heaviness in my heart that had managed to escape me in previous years. I thought to myself, "Why today? Why now? It's been 13 years." I drove and I cried. I remembered how tragic this day was 13 years ago. To be 15 years old and have your mom tell you that you should really sit down because she has some bad news. I remember it like it was yesterday. I already knew the news. It was strange. So very strange, but I knew. I knew my dad had died, and that he had taken his own life. To hear her words was just confirmation of what my heart had already somehow figured out. It's the most bizarre feeling in the world - one day someone you love is alive and well. You can talk to them, touch them, feel their hair in your fingers and the warmth of their skin. The next minute, they're gone. Forever. How does one even begin to process that? Especially as a 15 year old girl. That day forever changed me as a person. In many ways I'm better, stronger, more compassionate and understanding. But today I felt like that 15 year old girl all over again. Vulnerable and broken. And I kept trying to figure out why. I've been able to successfully remove myself further and further from that day and that situation with every year that's passed. It often doesn't feel like it happened to me. When I think about it, it's like watching a movie of someone else's life. So why on earth was today so different?

Then I thought about Zoe, and how in 5 short months she has managed to steal my heart and completely captivate every part of me. And while it made me sad to think that my dad (and grandma) will never meet her, I realized what was so different about today. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought of her dad. My dad and her dad, and the realization that people have an incredibly hurtful power: to leave. Both of those men chose to remove themselves from my life. One by taking his own life, and the other by simply turning his back and walking away. Death is so powerful in its' own right. It's an unwanted separation. And although the willful ending of a relationship (either by the choice of one partner or both) is not a death, it sure can feel like one. I loved Chris. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. He made that choice for me. My dad took himself away from me. I had no choice in that either. And, oh, my heart just breaks all over again at the thought. I can even look back at both situations and have justified reasons for why it's best for both people to be gone, yet I'm still overwhelmed by the thought (and fear) that a person can grab ahold of your heart, cause you to love with such fullness, and then leave. Just like that. With no warning, and sometimes with seemingly no care or concern for your feelings or well being. Wow. What a gift and a responsibility love is. Sometimes we can be so careless with the hearts of others, and our own as well.

I continue my silent drive to the office and through the cold tears, a grin forms on my face. I see a rainbow that starts at one end of the valley and stretches itself clear to the other side. And I think to myself, "Of course." If there's one thing that love, loss, pain, and grief has taught me, it's that if you look hard enough, you really can always see a rainbow. So cheesy and cliche, I know, but it has proven itself to be true in my life over and over again.

I'm remembering you today, dad. And everything you taught me in your life and in your death.