It is June, 2009 and I am writing a post about 2008. Usually that would be done at the end of the same year, or the very beginning of the next  - it is a ritual to sum things up or start fresh. But I needed a little time to digest it all. It was a big year, and in some ways it hasn't ended.

Global economic chaos and the election of Barack Obama. Losing my job in Atlanta and getting a job in Connecticut at a time when nobody I know is getting a job anywhere. Trying to sell our home in Atlanta and traveling to Scotland and Amsterdam and Madrid. It was a year of contrasts and of everything happening at once. No wonder it lasted through May.

There were many best things and a number of bad things, but the worst thing is that my father passed away during 2008.

My father had a heart attack in Mid-February, 2008. It was quite a massive one, but he somehow managed to live a full week after it. I know everyone says it about their father but he really was a tough man - he was quite annoyed that this had happened and just wanted to get over it and get back to work.

That week was a roller-coaster, and in some ways a metaphor for the world in 2008. One day he was doing great, the next he was going downhill. Then he would recover, finally reaching a point in his recovery where even the doctors were thinking he could be released. Then he died.

The week after he died, my siblings and I helped make funeral arrangements. I did his taxes and paid a couple of bills. A month or two later I started helping my mother deal with the life insurance proceeds. Keeping busy, getting things done, staying on top of it - that is how I dealt with his death.

I don't live in the same city or even the same state as the rest of my family. I wasn't there when he died and I also didn't have to face every day not seeing him when the rest of the family did. So I know I experienced the loss differently. But I have felt it nonetheless and in a way that has surprised me.

I would describe it as guerrilla grief. For months after his funeral, it would attack with stealth and cunning. I would be walking to the train and a lightening fast strike of sadness would overwhelm me. Just as suddenly it would leave. Or I would be sleeping peacefully, only to be interrupted by a dream about him. In the dream he was lonely. Then I would wake up with a start, feeling very sad but luckily able to fall asleep again, as the sadness would move out quickly.

I thought this hit-and-run warfare was going to go on and on, but a climax of sorts was reached and a shaky peace has taken hold since. In late February of 2009 I was weighing a job offer that I was lucky to have gotten. However, I was very conflicted. Yes, the offer was good, particularly in the light of the worst economic crisis of my lifetime, but a part of me was digging in, not wanting to take it, not wanting to move to the Northeast, not wanting to acknowledge that my current job would soon be gone.

This ambivalence was driving Marissa crazy. I don't remember her exact words but the gist was "what is up with you"? That is when I spoke the words "2008 was a hard year" and commenced bawling like a baby.

Yes, 2008 was a lousy year and a lot of bad stuff happened. But a lot of good did too. I don't think I was going to be able to see any of it clearly until I recognized my father's death and actually let it sink in a little. I had to do what the Moors did as they successfully conquered new lands - they co-opted their foes customs and assimilated as they conquered. I could not attempt to defeat my grief by holding it away, as it always found ways to penetrate my defenses. I had to make it part of who I am.

Now I try to take my father with me when I travel. I think of him when I eat a great meal. When I am feeling lazy at work I remind myself that he worked his ass off for his family. When I am spending too much time thinking about work I remember that he worked himself to an early grave and would likely tell me not to. I accept that he is gone because I know that he is a part of me and I am better for it.

Wayne Housel