Understanding Dawns

I've been avoiding writing…avoided being here on my blog and yet at the same time longing to sit and write and post some of the hundreds and hundreds of photos I've accumulated since being back seaside.  

Why? I've wondered…Why am I avoiding doing what I love? 
I posted last week only after I took down a post about my dad. 
Today I worked on my "About Me" page. 
Yet still I've shied away.

My sister posted today about our Dad. I avoided the post, however, all I needed was to see  title to know what she wrote about. That began the dawning of understanding.
Then a few minutes ago I popped over here, and the photo of my dad's hand grabbed me. 
I reread what I wrote right after he died. 

That is why I've stayed away.

While in Arizona last year I just couldn't blog. Instead, I wrote nonstop in my journals. Being in Arizona was difficult even in all its easiness. The fact that we were there because my dad was dying was ever present. Yes, I learned a lot about living as I watched my parents. But I also learned that dying is really a solitary journey. 

I've discovered that it takes awhile for the missing of him to settle in. At first I was so relieved…for him, for my mom. I was even happy for him. He suffered so long. He fought hard. He did everything he possibly could right up to the end. Then my concern centered around my mom. His suffering was over - her's was just beginning. 

Paperwork the first month kept me focused and busy. Then the move back to Puerto Rico. Next came visitors: friends, my mom for a month, more friends…Now in the stillness the gap where he used to be is suddenly staggering. He was always there…always. 

The memories of him the last year are fading. That is good, and yet as those memories fade the reality of what is gone becomes stronger. Who he was. His laughter. He voice. His wisdom. All gone.

I have to embrace this part of the journey. I have to cry ((okay…sob)), embrace the sadness, acknowledge the emptiness…then collect myself, wash my face and move forward. And repeat as often as necessary. 

It is a journey. 
A blessed, wonderful, amazing, difficult journey. 
As with photography there must be contrasts: light and darkness, happy and sad, easy and difficult, busy and still, laughter and tears.

So now I wonder…Will I be able to move back into my blog? 
I sincerely hope so because I've missed it here.