Hand in Heart

In the past four months, she has given birth to her second child, had an emergency appendectomy, been in two car wrecks, suffered a ruptured cyst on her ovary. And on Sunday morning, her daddy refused the last minute desperate measures that might have saved his life and lost his battle with heart failure. His death was not easy, not peaceful - just the end of a long and painful struggle - those he leaves behind are frozen with grief, stunned by the unwelcome invasion of guilt and relief they feel. Death, my daddy had told me so often, is always hardest on the ones left behind.

Being estranged from my family, I was spared this particular hardship. I received news of my mother's death through a telephone call and learned of my daddy's through a letter and newspaper clipping from my cousin - it was very much like reading of the passing of a long lost relation turned stranger - any feelings I might have once had were dead and buried and I searched in vain to grieve, eventually coming to think that I'd already done so years before. There was nothing left to mourn or be missed and while I was curious about this lack of emotion, I was also grateful for it. At twenty one, our little nurse doesn't have this insulation - she comes from a close and loving family and her emotions are vivid and sometimes chaotic, always right there on the surface for anyone to see. A part of me envies her unrestrained feelings and her tears while another part feels just the slightest contempt - I wonder if love is not just a habit or worse, an obligation - I have more feelings for my animals than I can remember having for my parents or either of my husbands and this forces me to consider the possibility that something is lacking in me.

I don't like admitting it, but I can't remember any real sense of loss when my daddy died. I read and re-read the obituary notice but it was as if the connections had rusted out over time. I felt a faint sadness but I didn't cry or lose any sleep, had no gut wrenching regrets. He was, in many ways, a foolish and flawed man, but also a gentle and fine man. Perhaps time really does heal all wounds - or perhaps they just wear away from not being thought about.

Seems love and loss go hand in heart or not at all.