They say that time heals all wounds. There is truth to that; however, there are some wounds which take longer to heal than others.
I was reminded of this earlier this afternoon when I shared a story about my father to my writing group. This story was a Christmas memory from many years ago. Following our Christmas dinner, Dad began a game of catch with my nephew's basketball. Dad's participation amazed me as, at the time, he had advanced Alzheimer's disease and had forgotten much of his previous life (including his own family). Despite this, he clearly remembered what fun you could have with a ball.
I managed to read the majority of my story without incident; however, I struggled at one point to fight back tears. While our familial game of Christmas catch happened 11 years ago, and Dad's death occurred 10 years ago, I still have regrets over the loss. Dad was always private - I know precious little about his own childhood and upbringing simply because Dad never talked about it. I also know very little about Dad's beliefs and values. While I have lost Dad, I feel that I have also lost the opportunity to truly know him and feel intense regret.
All of this is getting easier to accept; however, I believe that one never truly forgets. Acceptance does get easier over time; however, the connection remains. Remembering a person results in honouring that person. It's been 10 years since I lost my father ... I can't see myself forgetting that soon (nor do I want to forget ...).
