Thursday, February 18, 2010

A time to process & let go...part 3

Hi again Dad,
The hardest part of losing you was holding your ashes. This was it- a life in a box. I thought I knew what grief was but holding onto 'you' ripped my heart out and dropped me to my knees in gut-wrenching agony. This was reality- I was holding the truth- you were really gone. How unjust. How incredibly sad.
It was equally tough the day of your beachside memorial. Sadly, it clashed with Lizzy's Year 12 graduation and as a result, she never did get her Yr 12 photo's. I think the pain and dissapointment on her beautiful face mirrored my own.
It was hard working for a demanding boss who was reluctant to give me time off. Thankfully, I got a few days spare, on the grounds I come straight back to work after the weekend to make up for lost cleaning.
It was also a nightmare to wake early the next day after a restless sleep, drive to Brisbane with Leon to be on a plane at 6am, only to miss check-in by a few precious minutes. After much negotiating, we managed to score a flight to Rockhampton, and not Emerald, several hours later. However, that turned into a wonderful journey as another stranded passenger helped Leon hire a car and share the driving. Her company was refreshing considering the nature of our trip.
Many hours and several hundred kilometeres later, after dropping our new friend off at Emerald, Leon and I found your home at Rubyvale. It was my first visit and I had no idea what to expect, though you had warned me that you were a bit messy after seeing how clean I am. The yard was cluttered, very cluttered, and no doubt, so was the house. What really struck me though was a strong sense of isolation- like an oppressive cloud. This place was creepy. I couldn't believe anyone could live out here. And it was hot, as I would tell Leon again and again!
Leon and I walked around the back to unlock the door as the keys weren't cooperating at the front entrance. Like a scene from a horror movie, we slowly pushed the door open and were faced with a wall of webs, something akin to a B grade horror movie set, only this was real! The sound of dripping water alerted my ears. I turned to see a very large pool of water around the loo area with a live power cord running through the middle- I could hardly believe it.
Walking through the house was hard on many levels; it was filthy and stunk- a lot of food had perished over the months, but it also made me realise that it looked so lived in, like you'de just stepped out for a bit. Coffee cups remained where you'd last used them, a pen and paper lay on the table- little things like that ripped at my heart. You wouldn't be back anymore.
After leaving the kitchen we walked through the hall and to your room. Your bed was unmade, clothes strewn everywhere, but what really caught my eye was your dresser. I couldn't believe it- every photo I had ever sent you, every letter, was there on top, proudly displayed. I sat on a clear section of bed- wow- you really were messy! There were several photo albums in your drawers so I looked through. More tears now. Baby photo's of chubby little me I never knew exsisted lay between the aged pages.Two of them I especially cherish; one is of you holding me, a broad smile accross your face, and the other is water hose, a smiling little me and of course, an equally happy you. There were also cards written to baby Marija in what was Yugoslav. I unfolded an original will, typed up in the 70's, asking that everything you own go to your only children, Marija & Leon. Before I looked any further, I realise this- you have always loved me, always wanted me and missed me for years on end. You had a fathers heart, and for that, I love you.
Leon left me to survey outside and retrieve something only you and he knew about. Several minutes later, he returned with a bag of goodies. Ok, so the rubies and sapphires were nice, but the most amazing treasure of all was my gold, engraved baby bracelet! You said you still had it and would never part with it. Wow- you buried my bracelet along with your precious jewels. Words fail me dad! From the depths of my heart-THANK YOU.








2 comments:

  1. OMGosh Marija, I am sitting at work reading this and trying so hard not to cry!! I feel like I totally understand what you're saying, I relate to it well, because when I lost my Dad, I realised through discovery that he really loved me more than I ever credited him for also. So beautiful Marija, and a gift to anyone who is in grieving and insightful for those who have not yet lost a parent, to maybe give them the chance to appreciate the parent they have now xoxo Nicci

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  2. Sincerest thanks for these words- means heaps & blesses me that others can relate ♥

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