This week was my dad's yartzheit, and it wound up being unexpectedly eventful. I won't bore everyone with the details (for once), but I will share a few points.
First, while my reaction was pretty much consistent with last year (see this post), the focus of the day shifted almost imperceptibly. Did I cry? Yes, once. But I managed this year, as opposed to last year, to truly contemplate the lessons that my father taught me through his example. More to the point, when I said tehillim this year, it wasn't numbly. Rather it was with tremendous concentration and purpose.
So as much as the day is still painful, yet another reminder of his physical absence from this world, I am slowly being able to fill the void every so slightly by applying what he taught me. In turn, as much as I definitely feel the lack caused by our inability to communicate tangibly, I am starting to fixate less on that lack, and instead sift through my internal repository to find answers to my questions. Because one thing I realised this week is that I have a repository of his point of view within me; I have internalised the examples he left me with his actions and his words.
And I suppose, in the end, that is what a parent is: the person who forms you and guides you, who acts as your teacher so that you can make your way in the world, eventually, without them. I hope that through my actions this week in his honour, his neshama can continue escalating through the heights in Olam Haba. Kisses!