We always think we have more time.
My father-in-law passed away suddenly yesterday. A state trooper called the school looking for my husband and asked that he drive to one of the local hospitals.
Somehow, we knew.
And yet, it is still impossible. Despite his congestive heart failure. Despite his failing health over the past several years. Despite that deep-rooted understanding that we are all mortal.
It is still impossible. How can someone so much larger than life be gone?
We've spent the last two days at his house. His leather chair sits empty. The colors seem dull and the air seems to have been sucked from the room. There are moments of remembrance that bring us laughter, and for a moment, he's there with us. And minutes later, the breath catches in my throat and reality falls heavily into my heart.
Every ring of the phone is the potential heartbreak of telling someone who somehow didn't know. Hugs bring comfort and a paradoxical shower of renewed grief...for those hugs have a different meaning right now. Food trays come to the door and we burst into tears.
I have been through sorrow and loss. It doesn't get easier. Nothing about this is easy.