There is something that has caught me by surprise during my mourning for my father. It is the foggy, disconnected, numbness that I am feeling. It is not an all pervasive thing – I am not saying that I don’t feel anything. There are times, though, that I feel like I am wandering around a field in a dense fog and can’t seem to find any landmarks to get me home. I guess the problem is that I have to figure out what exactly is home since the home that I have known for 45 years has been permanently changed. As I walk through this field I can’t see the furrows and am unable to prevent myself from tripping, losing my balance, and sometimes landing face first in the mud, scratched and bleeding. I know eventually the sun will come out again and burn off the mist. I also know that no matter how bright it shines there are always going to be pockets of fog which will engulf me from time to time for the rest of my life. But I am tired of feeling this way. I know it has only been 3 weeks, I know I need to give myself more time. But I have never been a patient person, and I am even more impatient than usual. I don’t want to feel this constant ache, this disconnect from the rest of the world. I go about my daily life, working, taking care of my family, going to church, starting back to TKD, but what I really want is for the world to stop for a little while, to realize exactly what has been lost. But that is not how life works. The world continues to revolve, people continue to live their lives, and eventually I will be back to “normal”. But for right now, I am going through a lot of soap and water and band-aids as I clean myself from each tumble in the mud.