Loss

We lost my dad the day I last wrote. He passed away Jan 8, 2016 in the afternoon. Surrounded by his family.

 

It doesn't feel real most moments. Hits you like a ton of bricks when it does. I read an article about grief that described it as waves and so far I think that's pretty accurate.

 

I haven't really spoken to too many people about his passing. It seems strange to call people just to tell them someone is gone. I guess I don't know what to say and I know other people don't know what to say. What can you say?!

 

Everyone wants to know if you're ok. I always say yes. I know some people just ask out of niceties. I know some who ask really do care and want to know the hairy details. Either way, it's hard to say much else than "yes I'm ok."

 

The truth is, I'm not ok. I compartmentalize. I hide behind having a child to care for. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other because life doesn't just stop. Grief doesn't take a holiday. Heartache doesn't care that tomorrow is Monday and it's back to work.

 

The truth is, my eyes have been opened to weird things. Things I never even thought about before seem to be the things plaguing me most. Like where dad is in the meantime before he is cremated. I want him home. I'm now wide-eyed to the fact that some people suck. People who should rally for you, people who should've been more of a presence the last three years. Now they are coming out of the woodworks. Where were you then? I certainly don't need them now. Those are regrets they can live with, not me. People say strange things too. "At least you had three more years." "You all had time to prepare." Yes, we did have 3 more years. And I am beyond thankful. In those three years my dad got to walk me down the aisle, he got to see my daughter be born. Those three years were not easy. I challenge anyone to watch a loved one day in and day out deteriorate and have them feel good about it. They were three blessed but hard years. And I can tell you, three years is not enough time to prepare for a loss. Not by a long shot. How the heck do you "prepare" for someone to be gone? It's not a vacation, it's not one missed phone call, it's not one missed family night or holiday. It's forever.

 

The truth is, I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm exhausted. I'm relieved. I'm terrified. I'm worried. I'm heartbroken. I'm forever changed. I am now a daughter without a father.

 

I worry about Wesleigh. I now have a child who is missing a grandpa. Old enough to sense it, not old enough to understand. She's had a rough couple of weeks. Thank God kids are resilient because she's finally returning to her old self. We are trying to remind her every day of the bond they shared. It's a huge weight to bear to make sure she never forgets that Grandpa Steve loved her with every fiber of his being. That he wished he could play more. That he wished they had more time.

 

There will always be this gaping hole. A constant void. The pain is unbelievable but it also serves as a reminder of my dad. That he was here. That there were loving relationships.

 

I'm sad and I miss my dad.

 

But we'll keep going, because you have to.