The Aftershock

At a funeral viewing last year a friend leaned over and said the grieving family was not feeling it yet. I asked him, a physician, to elaborate. He said they were busy in the funeral arrangement, viewing, and other tasks. When the burial is done and they return to their respective homes, and late at night and alone, then the impact of the loss of a loved one will hit hard.

Now I know what he meant.

More than a week after the passing of Emil and with most of what should be done completed, I was hoping it will be a period of rest until it's time to bring his cremains to Vancouver. Then the sad feeling kicks in. In my heart I am happy that he is no longer suffering. In my heart I am glad there is a closure. But yet I miss him.

For nine years every Sunday I will read the Walgreen ad thoroughly for chocolate on sale. Emil loved dark chocolate, the more bitter the better. I would buy one and mail to him in the beginning of the week. I would stockpile padded envelopes and small boxes just for that purpose. My children sometimes asked me why? I would tell that this is my way in letting him know someone remember and care about him. We may not be able to visit him often. But this will be your Dad's way in saying we care about you, Uncle Emil. When he could no longer chew anything solid after a dental surgery, I would get plain chocolate bars or those with soft filling. This ritual came to an abrupt end when Emil passed away. All those boxes and envelopes sitting at a corner of my basement now as a painful reminder that I lost a brother.

For a week I was busy in taking care of everything. Along with my siblings, we comforted our parents. Now it is my turn to process the loss and it is not easy.