The days after my dad’s death were so full of activity I barely had time to think. In fact, I felt numb when it came to my dad though I was full of love for him and excited to share his amazing qualities with the world. That’s why I threw myself into writing his eulogy almost immediately. It distracted me and helped me get through the first days.

Clearly, I wasn’t really feeling the loss. That was and remains too huge and unfathomable. Instead I threw myself into the funeral and the social rituals of mourning.

This week has been a bit harder. There’s less to do. The shiva is over and while that was a bit overwhelming it was heartwarming and fortifying to be around family and friends.

Now people keep asking me how I feel; I appreciate their concern but I just don’t know how to describe it.

Tired is what I say. I’ve been sleeping a lot. I feel unfocused, fuzzy, spacey, not very present in my life. I’m here but I’m not here; and I’m not sure where I really am. 

At times like these the need for attention is endless, as is the desire to dwell in the fullness of the person you’ve lost.

I find myself telling perfect strangers: You know, my dad just died. It’s as if I can’t be in the same space as someone without revealing that key bit of information.

You must know this about me.

I know I’m afraid to feel the absence; I’m avoiding that right now. He still feels very much present even if I’m not with him. The world is very full of my father right now. He hasn’t gone very far away at all.

The stars are realigned when a parent dies. It’s a new world order yet everything (superficially) is the same. That’s the problem. Everything is the same and yet it isn’t.