My dad has been gone for 6 months and at times I still find it so hard to believe. I am not a sentimental, "anniversary" type of person, but I am taken aback by how sad I feel each month on the 27th, marking another month that my dad has been in heaven. The tough part is that Lacey turned 5 months on Feb 28th, so each time I celebrate her reaching another month, I am reminded that my dad was taken from our lives one month and one day before she was born. I wonder if I will ever be able to be happy about Lacey turning another month old without first thinking about how long dad has been gone and how much he has missed.
I think about visiting his grave often, but I haven't been able to do it since his birthday in November. Its just so painful and raw to see his name, on a grave marker. The loss feels bigger and deeper and in-your-face. I feel a little guilty about not going and bringing flowers and making sure there are no leaves or dirt on the stone.
In the 6 months that have passed, I feel like I view the world a little differently. I have always been a worst-case-scenario type of person, but it seems worse now. All the cliche things about how you never know what tomorrow will bring, live your life to the fullest, etc. seem so urgent all of a sudden. At the beginning of 2009, my dad did not have symptoms or a diagnosis of cancer. He never saw 2010. I find myself thinking of morbid possibilities like I could die in a car crash, have an aneurysm, something could happen to my husband or worse, one of the girls. Its not all-consuming, or something I obsess about, but the thoughts occur to me sometimes. I am so less focused on a clean house or whether the dishes are done. I want to enjoy the moment, focus on what's important. I try to drink it all in--the smell of my baby, Lana's laugh, Bill's smile. Who really knows what tomorrow brings. There are truly no guarantees in life.
I can't believe my dad is missing all of this. I wish he could see the mother I have become. I wish he could hold this baby who loves to be held and see the beautiful artwork that Lana creates. As we are getting ready to remodel our kitchen, I wish I could call him and ask his advice. He was very handy, did a kitchen remodel when I was growing up and sold appliances for many years--he could give us so much advice, but more than that, he would be so interested and involved. I feel the loss each time we talk about the project. Its these little things that all add up. For me this is what grief looks like 6 months later.
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6 comments:
I am still so sorry for your loss. I find in the day to day things is when the loss can feel the most difficult sometimes.
This post also resonated with me after dealing with this skin cancer scare. I feel like I look at the world so differently now, it has changed things to my core. I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life. I even signed up for Mondo Beyondo and this phrase from the first lesson is now on my whiteboard:
Tell me what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? - Mary Oliver
I'm a worrier. My grandmother was a worrier. As I get older though, I seem to be getting better at stopping the thought process when it starts getting ugly. It's hard to do. I also avoid certain kinds of stories on the news so as not to trigger the worries.
Maybe we just love life so much we can't stand the idea of losing it.
{{{HUGS}}}
I can't believe it's been 6 months. I can't imagine the sadness you still feel. You have done so well despite your grief and your dad would be so pround of you and especially proud of the mother you have become
Grief never goes away. It just changes. This year will mark 20 since my dad passed away. I hardly ever get emotional about it anymore. Except for when I do. It hit me the hardest my senior year of college, almost 4 years after he had died. It hit me hard when I got my job with the Senate, since my dad loves politics. It hit me hard when I had William, and then again when I had Seth, because neither one of them will ever know him. It hits me hard when I realize my memories are fading, just a bit. The sound of his voice, the times we spent together. And then it hits me hard when a memory shines through so clearly that I can still smell his aftershave and feel his whiskers and hear him laugh. It is definitely easier and the loss is not as sharp and not as painful. But it still hurts. It is still a huge loss, an empty hole that will never be completely filled. Just know that I'm thinking of you and sending you hugs, and I'm remembering your dad, too, even though I never met him. That's the great thing about memories--they stick in other peoples' heads, too.
I think about things happening to me and our family members often, too and try not to let it overtake me. I am sorry yoou have to go through this, am sorry that the wonderfulness of Lacey growing is intertwined in the loss of your Dad. My Dad actually said something to me that I had never thought of before. We were talking about my Uncle who has recently gotten a rotten Cancer diagnosis. He said, "He will still be a part of my life just as he is now. I won't talk to him on the phone anymore, but when I think about him during the day like when I do now, he will still be there." I never really thought about it that way before, but for me, it was comforting. I am sorry you are missing your Dad, and I am certain he would be so proud of the amazing Mother you are.
Oh Julie, I am thinking of you. I am so sorry about your loss. And to have these milestones linked with Lacey's birth but be very challenging. I think your whole approach of 'this is what it looks like' is a good one. The nature and 'face' of grief will most likely change but this is really where you are with it right now. Thanks for being so honest and so raw and for letting us share in some of your grief. Perhaps in writing about it, it helps a bit.
I too have always been a worse case scenario person. My whole family is like this. The way this has carried out in my life is that I ALWAYS say that I love my family members. All of the time. And I am always full of gratitude for the people in my life. As you note, we really don't know what tomorrow brings. Again, so sorry about your dad. Hugs!
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