Member-only story
Loss
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In late December of 2004, my father got on my massage table. His connective tissue was dense and there was one area on his right trapezius that felt like bedrock. I was a very skilled massage therapist and I knew how to get to depth. But this was unusual. This muscle would not let me in.
It was hiding something … from me. But I was determined. I backed off and slowed down, and my dad fell asleep. That’s when I returned to the right trapezius muscle. The tissue began to soften. I closed my eyes and I saw a scene so vivid it was like I was there.
It was the day my dad finally sold my childhood home- the home he and my mother created together. The home my mother adored and battled cancer in. She loved that house and in some ways it felt like that house kept her with us.
After the closing of the sale my father went to my Aunt’s house, approached her speechless and just wept. I wasn’t there that day- but I saw exactly what happened when I put my hands on his right trapezius muscle.
There were no words to describe the pain he had been holding all those years. It was in his body. And that day on the massage table, I saw his pain and I felt it. I understood it in a way that words couldn’t communicate. I cried through the rest of the massage and I don’t think I ever looked at my father the same way.
