A thing or two about loss

Loss is a bitch.

I am sitting across from my dad in Pacifica at one of his favorite coffee and bakery shops. It is one of his favorites because he can order a small coffee and they don’t charge him for refills and because the dutch crunch rolls are really good. And cheap. He slices open said roll and starts to jaggedly spread butter onto it with a plastic knife. He looks up. I comment that there are a lot of old timers in this place. He says “yea, always the same guys” and then he breaks into tears. He raises a hand to his lips. “I miss your mom so much”, he says. He apologies for his grief. I say there is no need to apologize, that I understand. Barely audible he says, “I know you do”.

I live far away from my father but because of business trips I get to spend a weekend every four months or so at his home. The scene of him breaking into tears repeats itself often; in the living room, eating costco hotdogs, or during our morning coffees. The conversation when he breaks down follows the same pattern. I know there is nothing to say. Just accept and let him process it. It need not “get better”, that is the state of loss at his age. Maybe any age. Over the past 3.5 years since my mom has passed he breaks down less and I tell myself that his reluctance to keep his home clean is the sadness turning to anger.

Before my mom passed I had only seen my dad cry once. That was when he heard the news that his mom had died. My mom called with the news -- she stopped by the hospital for a visit and walked in on an empty room -- and my dad’s face cracked. Seeing this man that frankly I was afraid of brake down shook me in some involuntary way. We drove to the hospital together and spoke little.

During his breakdowns now, when I tell him that I understand and he says he knows I do, I wonder. I wonder if he does indeed know. And I wonder if I have a right to think I understand. That when Mimi died in December 2001 that I cried driving to work almost every day for a year. And then often for sometime after that. I had divorced Mimi and her loss is on me but mostly I cried because I really missed her. Needed to speak with her. Or perhaps my dad knew that my second wife had given up on our marriage a month after my mom had died. Or I should say she had given up on it for a while but she waited until then to hammer the point home.

I feel I know a thing or two about loss. There is no closure. It is part of the human condition. We process it. We step forward. Ultimately…

Loss is a bitch.