The gestation of grief in wonderland

It's been nine months since my father died.

It seems like such a long time ago, and yet like yesterday - but the hardest part is that when I do go to pick up the phone to call him to ask him a question, or tell him a funny story, he's not there. 

Right after his death and mom's illness, there were lots of things to "do" and many things to fill time with. Now, it's quieter, and there's more time to pause. More time to think. More chances to be reminded. 

Nine months is that magic number for mothers - to bring new life into the world. And certainly, there's a new reality in my world, too. 

To say that things are different is an understatement. 

I've just now begun to deal with this new world, which feels much like Wonderland. 

Sometimes it's overwhelming. Sometimes it's peculiar. Sometimes it's lonely.

Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a forest filled with giant purple trees. 

No. Wait, that's just a picture from the Flower & Garden Festival. 

In that time, so many other people I know have lost parents. Maybe it's not more than usual - maybe I'm just more sensitive about it now, but it really does seem like the past year has been a really busy one up at the pearly gates. In my department alone, three of us have lost fathers in the last nine months. There are only a dozen of us. That's got to be a statisticaly anomale, right?

***

I wrote this in March 2016. It's still not any easier in May 2019.