my "breakdowns" seem to have lessened to about once a week now, if that. :) weird how something can get easier and harder at the same time. it's getting easier just living every day life...doing the things i've always done...coming home to his house and not thinking only of him being gone. but it gets harder, too. imagining my future is more painful than it's ever been. i hate the thought of living another FIFTY years without my dad around. i don't know what i'll feel when i meet a guy i think i might want to marry, and i can't get my dad's opinion. and someday if i have kids.... that's the worst one. my dad was going to be such a perfect grandpa. he was going to be a perfect everything.
i went through about a week, and this pops up again some days, when i could not and can not look at recent pictures of him. which is weird, because the very first thing i wanted to do when i flew in from lubbock that terrible day was stare at a picture of his face. but on these days when it hurts too much, i catch his face out of the corner of my eye and i just have to walk away. it's such a handsome face. such a kind, predictable face. show me any picture of him, and i'll tell you what he's thinking.
amber gave me the most beautiful picture of him and me for christmas. she framed it in a white frame (imagine...me and white...huh), and it's just perfect. it's from mother's day (2007), our families went out to eat together, and she had a new digital and was snapping photos all afternoon. i thank God with all my heart that this picture exists. it's just so "Ed."
i miss my dad so much. it's weird, but i get a craving to say that out loud. everyone i see, i want to tell them, "i miss him so much." i don't say it very often because i get choked up when i do. and i don't like to say it to my mom 'cause i'm afraid of making her [more] sad. but sometimes i just need to say it. actually, all the time. strange how just saying a few words strung together can bring relief.
i was at the bottom of our stairs the other day, on my way up to my room, doing nothing in particular, and a "wave" hit me. it happens every day-ish. just this sensation of, "he's really gone." it literally takes my breath away for a split second. it doesn't make me cry, or even tear up, it's just a flash, then it's gone. and as silly as it sounds, i like those waves. they bring reality...and they bring me his face, which i must never forget.
like i ever could.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
daddy issues
after all this with my dad, i have an even greater urge to go back to childhood. i've always had that urge, at least since being "grown up," and even when i was little i was so sad about having to grow up someday.
so now that my daddy's gone, it's kinda like i'm trying recapture anything that reminds me of him. and since i spent 24 years as his little girl, most of my memories of him involve just that...being little. i have the strange desire to play house and barbies and read old stories. i want to climb in trees and draw stick figures on scrap paper, and eat cheetos and sour gummy worms for every meal. and yeah, i've pretty much been wishing i could do all those things for the last several years, but the burning in my heart to be young and free again is only amplified by the loss of my dad.
i miss him so much. so much that sometimes i can't even believe he's really gone. it's like he's on a really long trip or something, and when he gets back (in ten or twenty years), he'll give me a gigantic hug and let me crawl into his lap, while he sings me Jellyman Kelly in his best james taylor impression...which is always nearly identical to the real thing.
is it wrong to feel that? i keep thinking, "i have to get this engrained in my stubborn head. he's gone, and he's never coming back to this world." his hugs, and his smelly feet, and his wild eyebrows, and his perfect laugh, his sarcasm, his singing and his voice are all gone. no more. i hate thinking about those things. that they're gone, i mean. and people keep saying stuff like, "all of that will live on in you and your mom and brother!" i appreciate so much that people are trying to comfort, but those things, his laugh and his voice...they were individual to him. and even though we can mimic, and recall, and remember and honor for the rest of our lives, merely talking about the very physical and physiological parts of my dad will never be enough.
i could go on and on and on and talk about him and my broken heart for hours or days, but i have a feeling that's not what makes the healing happen. i have a feeling the only, and i mean only thorough healing we can get at all when we lose someone we love so much, must come directly from God alone.
so here's to prayer and petition. here's to joy that comes in the morning...and here's to those who mourn. for we will be comforted.
so now that my daddy's gone, it's kinda like i'm trying recapture anything that reminds me of him. and since i spent 24 years as his little girl, most of my memories of him involve just that...being little. i have the strange desire to play house and barbies and read old stories. i want to climb in trees and draw stick figures on scrap paper, and eat cheetos and sour gummy worms for every meal. and yeah, i've pretty much been wishing i could do all those things for the last several years, but the burning in my heart to be young and free again is only amplified by the loss of my dad.
i miss him so much. so much that sometimes i can't even believe he's really gone. it's like he's on a really long trip or something, and when he gets back (in ten or twenty years), he'll give me a gigantic hug and let me crawl into his lap, while he sings me Jellyman Kelly in his best james taylor impression...which is always nearly identical to the real thing.
is it wrong to feel that? i keep thinking, "i have to get this engrained in my stubborn head. he's gone, and he's never coming back to this world." his hugs, and his smelly feet, and his wild eyebrows, and his perfect laugh, his sarcasm, his singing and his voice are all gone. no more. i hate thinking about those things. that they're gone, i mean. and people keep saying stuff like, "all of that will live on in you and your mom and brother!" i appreciate so much that people are trying to comfort, but those things, his laugh and his voice...they were individual to him. and even though we can mimic, and recall, and remember and honor for the rest of our lives, merely talking about the very physical and physiological parts of my dad will never be enough.
i could go on and on and on and talk about him and my broken heart for hours or days, but i have a feeling that's not what makes the healing happen. i have a feeling the only, and i mean only thorough healing we can get at all when we lose someone we love so much, must come directly from God alone.
so here's to prayer and petition. here's to joy that comes in the morning...and here's to those who mourn. for we will be comforted.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
derailed
i already wrote a blog today, but since it was 2:26am at my last post, it really counts as yesterday. anyway, i want to try to redeem the horrific sadness of my last entry. i guess they're all sad, but that one was written in the midst of heavy tears, so when i read it, it just seems more heavy than the others. or something.
i like writing every day. or most days. and since few of you even read this, i feel even better about opening up. which i guess is rare for me. sharing my feelings isn't my strongest attribute. i'm a pretty private person, so i struggle with letting go the intimate details of the things happening in my heart. but when something this huge and life-changing presents itself, i can put aside the feelings of inadequacy and just share.
i can't say enough how much i miss my dad. every day it gets a little harder, 'cause the shock's wearing off and reality's pouring its blunt little self all over the floor in front of me. i've never been the type to live one day at a time, and while all this inspires me to do so, it's still hard not to envision my future and just how lonely it's going to be without my Pops.
i just kinda lost my train of thought and all ability to keep typing with any flavor. i'm going to bed and tomorrow i'm going back HOME! (i've been house-sitting.)
thank you God for holding me when i need it most.
i like writing every day. or most days. and since few of you even read this, i feel even better about opening up. which i guess is rare for me. sharing my feelings isn't my strongest attribute. i'm a pretty private person, so i struggle with letting go the intimate details of the things happening in my heart. but when something this huge and life-changing presents itself, i can put aside the feelings of inadequacy and just share.
i can't say enough how much i miss my dad. every day it gets a little harder, 'cause the shock's wearing off and reality's pouring its blunt little self all over the floor in front of me. i've never been the type to live one day at a time, and while all this inspires me to do so, it's still hard not to envision my future and just how lonely it's going to be without my Pops.
i just kinda lost my train of thought and all ability to keep typing with any flavor. i'm going to bed and tomorrow i'm going back HOME! (i've been house-sitting.)
thank you God for holding me when i need it most.
just...
i miss him so much. it's torture, all the things you think after someone you love dies. i just keep wishing i could have one last hug. like that would ever be enough. how can he really be gone?
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