I had trouble falling asleep last night. About an hour before bedtime, I developed an overwhelming sense of foreboding. I tried to shake it off and ignore to little avail. After tossing and turning for awhile, I finally drifted to sleep.
I woke up at midnight with a ominous feeling, like in that moment everything had changed. I tried to rationalize the feeling by convincing myself that I was just exhausted. Although I did fall back to sleep, I wasn't surprised when the telephone rang and hour later.
My Dad had just passed away.
I am writing this at 2 AM, about an hour after receiving the call. I suppose that there isn't really anything for me to do at the moment. I can't sleep, but I suppose I should try. I know that the day that lies ahead will be long with phone calls and arrangements.
It is odd that, in this moment only removed one hour from the news, I feel numb instead of pain and grief. I know the gravity of this loss will be felt fully and deeply in the coming days, weeks and months. Even though I was anticipating this moment, it feels surreal.