Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.
1994 was a turbulent and confusing time in my life.
I was a young married woman, in the throes of discontent, trying to understand and figure out my place in the world. In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that not much has changed from that time to this, but I digress.
During that time, I had recently moved from Edmonton to a small Alberta town with my then husband. Out of my element and out of sorts, I found myself bored and unfulfilled professionally and I started looking for an escape route. Ultimately, I decided returning to school was the better way.
Social justice was important to me and somehow that led me to the conclusion that becoming a paralegal would align my beliefs with my career. Yeah …. I know. In my defence, youthful idealism was running the show. I had not yet figured out that the concepts of law and justice were not exactly one and the same.
My classes were to commence in the fall of that year. I called my mother to say I would have some time later in the summer to come home to Manitoba for a visit before classes started. She thought it was a good idea. After we finished chatting, my mom passed the phone to my father. I repeated my thoughts to him about coming for a visit in August. He replied, “Well your mother and I are going to Ontario to visit your grandparents the last two weeks of July, so why don’t you come with us?” I was a little taken aback by the question. Firstly, because I hadn’t expected the invitation. Mostly, because my father had always been a man of few words and for him, this was A LOT of words.
Immediately, I felt the urge to say, “Yes! I’ll come with you.” For a moment I imagined how much fun it would be to do a road trip to Ontario with my parents, something I hadn’t done since I was a kid.
And then reality intervened. I had just started a job that was financing school and I had been told I wouldn’t be allowed any vacation days until August.
With that in mind I said, “Thanks for asking Dad, but I have to work so I can’t get away in July. So how about if I come to Manitoba after you get back from Ontario? I’ll come to visit the first week of August”.
“Sounds good. See ya then, ” he said, before hanging up.
Little did I know, that was the last time I would ever hear his voice.
Writing 101: Day 4
Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t anymore.
PART 1 of 3-PART SERIES.