Grief is a funny thing. Like water, it can rush in.
My mate mentioned something about messages from his dad and suddenly I was almost in tears thinking about all the silly, informative, daft, annoying messages I used to get from my dad.
And I was at sea, no boat, no life raft, waiting to drown.
Knowing that an important life stage was gone and that I'd lost my most fervent supporter.
The person who, even when super angry with me, was absolutely in my corner.
Unconditionaly love is a gift that goes unnoticed until it's removed and even then you can't exactly put your finger on what's gone.
You get it from your mates, in a form.
The blessed get it from their partners, but somehow it has strings and implications too.
Is this why falling in love is so huge? You are opening doors, deliberately. You are knitting those links and yet, the fear remains somehow that you will be the lover only and not the loved.
That somehow there is a competition afoot and you could come out the loser.
It's hard to maintain equilibrium when in the shadows the whisper that it might not be reciprocal is running incessantly. It makes you nervous, it removes some of the joy, if you listen. But how seductive is that whisper?
I've always loved the sea, it's unpredictability... it's odd constancy in spite of its utter changeability and the fact that its governed by the moon. There's a higher power at work, with many phases, which seldom looks the same.
I will always miss my dad. It is a hole that can never be filled.
And maybe it never should be. If we can't be forever changed by something so huge, it'd be a poor state of affairs.