The little Dutch boy left...

We’ve all heard the story of the little Dutch boy who stops his town from flooding by putting his finger in the dam wall thus stopping the water from gushing out. For the past 9 months I have felt that there has been a little Dutch boy with his finger in the wall of my grief stopping me from fully going through it.

In my first essay I described how my body was unable to respond to the loss of my father, how I was in ultra organized admin mode, my reaction was purely logical and any and all emotions were essentially blocked, I said I knew the day would come when the dam wall would burst… the dam wall burst a few days ago and it was ugly and cathartic all at the same time, it hit me like a gigantic wave that knocked me off my feet -quite literally- and then every feeling that was bubbling under the surface came crashing down around me like shards of broken glass.

I sat on the floor in the dark and sobbed-I sobbed so hard I even had a little panic attack for effect(I am always full out no marking)-, there is immeasurable pain in every joint and bone of my body, there is anger, fear, confusion and regret in every shallow breath and raid heartbeat. Anger because I feel cheated, anger at the unfairness of the loss, anger that I have to be the one who has to hold it all together while everyone has been allowed to fall apart, anger and frustration that I have to be the one who suddenly has to do the things he did, frustration that my own grief has been ignored because I’m “the strong one”. Fear of what will happen next, fear I will forget what he sounded like or how he smelt, fear that I wont remember how his hugs felt, fear that he will be forgotten, fear that one day we will stop talking about him and the regret… the regret is the one that lives rent free in my head, regret that I never got the chance to say goodbye, regret that I never said “I love you” at our last conversation despite my head screaming “ go after him and tell him you love before he gets into the car”, regret that our last words were not what I would have wished them to be, regret at not having made him proud ,just so much regret.

Ever since the Dutch boy left and the dam wall burst I have been consumed by all this, sobbing myself to sleep, walking around with a body that feels like lead, a throat constantly on fire and a headache that makes my eyes hurt BUT I also know that this too shall pass because weeping endures for the night but joy comes in the morning. For while there has been this ugliness of feelings there has also been relief that I have arrived at this door FINALLY and now I want to go through and feel every single thing so I can heal my broken heart, so I can honor his work, his life, his legacy from a place of peace.

I know once I go through the wave, through this stage, there will be joy at the memories, peace that he’s in a better place, love that will last all space and time, stories that will fill me with pride to tell and fill my heart with with smiles and laughter, once the dark cloud moves and the sun makes her appearance again all will be well…for now the only way out is through.

Dutch Boy Painting credited to https://thekahaniproject.org/the-little-dutch-boy