Vacuity
Dark.
Cool air breathing across my bed. Stomach in knots and a dull ache in my chest. Pressure rising in my throat, I can’t breathe.
Am I dreaming?
I gasp for air, jolting up from my bed. My familiar room, lit only from the glow of the bathroom light.
BUZZ.
A voicemail from an unknown number. The unrecognizable man’s voice telling me to call back immediately. I press call.
RING. RING.
The same masculine voice pierces through the speaker. We confirm the information and nothing could’ve prepared me for those next few words.
Life altering.
The kind of news that literally knocks all the air out of your body. Your dad, he’s deceased. My eyes grew blurry in an instant. Ringing started to fill my ears and unknowingly, I screamed.
Pain. Emptiness.
The echoing pulse deepened and expanding into this suffocating weight. Pounding through my head until it became unbearable. And this sharp, jagged feeling inside my chest. How can my dad really be gone?
Mute.
Questions unasked and answers left unspoken. Like a dark hole on a rampage, whirling around my core. My life on fast forward and my body stuck. Lodged in time. I open my mouth to speak, but the words never escape.
The abyss.
This agony, I feel it in every trace of my being. In every silence; in every fleeting moment, there’s still this echo of you.
Grief.
It’s literally love with absolutely no place to go. No one to share it with. Most days I still wake up feeling that void. Grieving can be loud, it can be quiet. It can be dancing to a song that reminds you of that person. It can be eating a tub of ice cream while crying, staring at old photographs. But me; I hear your voice still, like a whisper carried in the midnight breeze. Or your warmth; in the rays of sunshine that beam across my face. I’m holding onto all these memories; to paint the beautiful story of your life, for your four grandchildren. They’ll know about you; your gentle ways, they’ll know your name dad.
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