October 4, Like a Tornado...

I read somewhere that grief is like a tornado that uproots... and this is a true statement. When you are struck by grief, it feels like someone or something went through your whole life, your whole being like a tornado. With me, there have been many instances of tremendous tumultuous upheaval.  If you have read the first posts, then you know a little of why I am, like I am...

So, for the largest part of my life, I have dealt with the death of my father. It was so very devastating and literally brought our family to our knees. I was a young teenager, and young teens do not understand the whole picture mostly. Maybe they have changed over the years, but I don't think that I could grasp the concept of what was going on, and maybe, because I was so young, I reacted differently than my other family members. I don't know. It still seems surreal.

Easter Sunday, my father was working for a restaurant, owned by his brother-in-law, we had visited him for late lunch. It was customary that he work the holidays like that. Always bound to work, always dependable, he took on shifts that would allow other people to go home and be with family. He managed people well, and was liked by so many. Employees and customers loved him. He was fair, honest, and a very hard worker. He could run a large operation, teach and train others, and was always friendly.

At one point, my father owned a cafe. He loved it, customers loved it, and I guess it was a booming business. People still remember the place, and this all happened before I was born... People I meet ask me who I am related to, it is a large area here, but seems like a small town... when I tell them, they say, oh, I remember him, oh, I remember his cafe... and it starts a nice conversation. But I never explain to them what happened to him. Though, many know, since the newspapers ran articles here and in the whole area. Yes, even far away, since we had family in this area, my parents had lived here, people from all over sent cards of condolences. Very sweet and memorable.

Easter Sunday. I had gone to church with friends. Mom was not up to going to church, she had been having a lot of health problems, and she was always exhausted. My sister and her two babies had moved back in with us, and the kids pretty much wore Mom out. After church, I went with my mother, sister and her kids to eat with my father. We didn't do this a lot, but especially when my mom was tired and didn't want to cook, we got to have a treat... which was always special. I loved eating there, the food was always wonderful, the people friendly, and on holidays it was packed to the brim.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is lost to me. I am sure I played with the babies, I am sure that it was a  'normal' day. I am sure we hid Easter eggs with the toddler, because there are pictures. I am sure I read and maybe listened to records, or a cassette tape.  But as I say, the day was pretty much lost on me. Normal, not anything out of the ordinary. You know, those early Spring days when the air is crisp, the sky is blue, you end up maybe watching TV... though I don't think there was anything on Sunday afternoons in those days.

I do remember it getting late in the evening. Mom always wanted her husband home at a reasonable hour, but especially on holidays that he worked, he was often late. This holiday was no exception. The time was even more late though. Mom started to worry, she and my sister even went to check if there had been a flat tire or some trouble of that sort. I stayed home with the twenty month old and three month old babies.

That is what is so unnerving, that everything was a normal, non-eventful day. That it started out like so many days before, and that it was Easter was nothing so out of the ordinary...