Short and Sweet: Reflecting on Grief

Amanda Blume

It's been 584 days since I said good goodbye to the normal that was when I visited my hometown, my roots.  584 days ago I got on an airplane leaving Seattle to head home to New Jersey. I said my final goodbyes to my dad when we returned his ashes to the sea where my mom was placed 14 years prior. It was one of his final wishes. And here I am 584 days later rocking my 9 month old while we are flying together. I’m 35,000 feet in the air over middle America, and I’m feeling sad and anxious because damn- I miss him.

This little guy in my arms named after my dad, and he was conceived just months after he passed away. He is our family's reminder that life goes on.  I sit in my seat, rocking my baby, and grieving the loss of my dad. I’m sad that they never met here on earth. I wonder what sort of genetic gift this baby will receive from my dad. Will he be mechanical? Will he be funny and quick witted? I already see the mischievous twinkle that is seared into my memory from the years of pranks my dad would pull. 

I’m 35,000 feet above middle America, and I'm coming to terms once again that I will be okay.  I’m grateful for the memories. I’m grateful for the memories of things in the past, and for the ones yet to be made with this little guy.

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