No One Holds Your Hand While You Grieve

Would this resonate with you because of the music or because of the words?

It is not for me to decide because some people have locked onto this and others have said they hate it.

At the moment I lack all perspective yet know for certain about some things like the stark truth of this piece of poetry that I cannot stop listening to.

Somewhere during a five mile walk through downtown Dallas this past Thursday afternoon there wa was a moment 0f clarity and utter confusion.

A second where I felt as alone as I ever have and remembered no one holds your hand while you grieve.

I looked at the people around me and wondered how hard this experience is going to make me and thought about how it would have been interesting to have asked dad if he had any thoughts.

His mom died when he was in his early thirties, his little brother when he was barely fifty and then his father died when dad was about sixty-two.

If I could have I would ask how he thought that changed and impacted him but I can’t and so I chalk it up to another conversation I didn’t know to have before he left and so it remains a question unanswered.

I have my ideas and thoughts about what he would have said. Many times I was right on and other times I was off, there are too many variables here.

Too many uncertainties so I have to shrug my shoulders and accept I don’t know.

I Told Him About June

There was a time in the car when I drove us around and we had a father/son conversation that only two adults could have.

I turned on some music and said something about how we interpret things and somewhere along the way we saw people taking selfies which led to a conversation about whether it is pure narcissism or if there might be something we could learn from it.

So here we are dad, one picture of the Wilner men and three selfies.

FWIW, I had to take the one on the top right for when I drove for Lyft.

So we have five years, 2 years and then two from tonight.

You’re gone, your grandson is about an inch shorter but just as broad as me and I look far more weathered than I once did.

BTW old man, two more people made cracks today about my having paws for hands. Since my hands are almost identical to yours I blame you for the paw crack, not that I particularly care.

I haven’t any control over how big or how little they are and since they work well I haven’t any real complaints about them.

But I confess to the very end I sometimes found myself comparing my hands to yours because for years the memory of holding your hand stayed with me.

Not to mention the way you trained me to walk through stores with my hands behind me like some soldier.

The Wi-Fi Went Down

Well old man if I was a superstitious fellow I might wonder if you were trying to get my attention.

Yesterday afternoon I butt-dialed the rabbi who did your service.

I haven’t spoken with him since he called me two days after we buried you and in the and in the days since I have made enough calls for his number not to be in recent calls.

Yet somehow I accidentally called him…two hours after someone said something to me I have never heard anyone besides you say.

I chalk it up to strange coincidence but at the same time I figure that you could figure out how to pull something off like that.

Fast forward to tonight when I started to write this post and said, “if you are there dad go ahead and give me a sign.”

That is when the Wi-Fi went down.

Probably coincidence again dad, but if it’s not I need you to come up with a better way to communicate because I had to fix that.

As in I HAD TO because I have that same laser focus to fix those things that catch my eye or attention. Sometimes I can walk away, but it wasn’t going to happen this time.

And as I saw you do multiple times I was ready to work on it for the next 39 hours straight.

Fortunately I didn’t as I am short on sleep.

Are You Going To Be In My Dreams

I am famous as are most Wilner men for being able to fall asleep before my head hits the pillow. Famous for being able to sleep on planes, trains, buses and anywhere I can close my eyes for a moment.

But life has managed to turn some of this up and down a bit so I found myself awake in the middle of the night which apparently is not uncommon for many people I know.

If it happens again I might reach out to some of them and see if they’re also enjoying the witching hours.

Might as well be productive.

Anyhoo, the muse who once sat upon my shoulder or  lap has gone and left me. I have turned on several songs to try and find that thread again but it hasn’t worked.

I have thought about writing until I find it because sometimes pushing through the distractions and interruptions leads me to interesting places but tonight I choose not to.

There is too much anger, too much frustration and too much other stuff clouding my mind, crowding my th0ughts and I don’t want to fight.

Because sometimes it is better to leave the beast locked in his cage. Sometimes less is more and no one holds your hand while you grieve, you just walk through the wilderness until you find your own way out.

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