Two Years Ago Today

I was at my boyfriend's house on a particularly cold and snowy Saturday morning in Chicago when my mother called, frantic that my father was not doing well. I was not that surprised, as Dad had not been doing well for about 9 months, on and off. She told me to be prepared to come home again very soon. I hung up the phone and bawled for 2 hours.

After staring into space and letting my cheeks dry out from the rivers of tears I let loose, I mustered up the strength to get ready for a clinic session at my massage school. As I dressed myself, my phone rang again. It was my sister this time. "Dad just died," was all she said.

This time I called my clinic supervisor and let her know I would not be coming in today. Then I let myself be held by my boyfriend and cried some more. I tried to call my mother but our conversation was barely coherent. She had lost it and would need some time to get her mind around everything that had just happened.

I ended up spending the next few days in an emotional blur, sometimes functioning okay, sometimes very very down. The thing that really got me through that time, besides my amazing boyfriend, was watching Planet Earth.

Each DVD was more beautiful and distracting than the next, and Signorney Weaver's voice lulled me into a peace I will ever be thankful for. I would lie on the couch with my head on Adam's lap, drifting in and out of tearful consciousness while wolves hunted helpless goats and Birds of Paradise performed their eerie, unique mating rituals with gusto.

The Planet Earth series did three things for me during this difficult first few days.

One, it allowed me to feel close to my father, because we used to watch "Nature" on PBS all the time, and his fascination with all creatures great and small was so overwhelming to him that it often caused him to shout, "Leanne! Come here! Did you see that!? Can you believe it?"

Two, it allowed me to view the whole wide world beyond my family and our loss. To see how small we are in the scheme of things and to appreciate life in all forms, and accept the inevitability of death due to the world's cyclical nature.

Three, it gave me great distraction, but simple enough distraction that I could fall asleep and miss some things. Which was honestly exactly what I needed at the time.

Though what seems like a lot of time has passed, my father's absence still rings out from time to time. Holidays are a little tough. His birthday. The usual things.

But today, on the two year anniversary of his death, it feels strange. I noted it in the calendar. I made sure to think about him this past weekend. I reminded my boyfriend, now fiance, of the anniversary. I will call my mother after this post to check in and see how she is. But there is a weird sort of hiccup to my emotional response to the day. I did not feel anything. I had a few "face-contorting" moments where tears threatened to fall, then they ran away, skittish.

I am wondering if this means I am "getting over it" or that a storm is a-brewing. You never know with a girl like me. I should know after 30 years of dealing with my sensitivities.

I have been told that each year it is a little easier to deal with the loss of a loved one.

In the meantime, I think I will go watch some Planet Earth in Dad's honor.