today's the two-month mark of my dad's death. weird. what's the most weird is that i can't cry. i miss him constantly, and i have moments of terrible sadness, but not a tear will fall! i may have to watch The Notebook just to open the floodgates. i can always count on that movie. crazy, huh? that i have to watch a movie to bring on the tears. you'd think i would just be able to think about my dad and they'd come. i think it's a physiological problem. and what a strange one.
i miss him so much.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
waves, reality, and missing my dad
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.
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.
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?
Sunday, December 30, 2007
legacies and things of that sort
i feel different. i don't mean today i feel different....i mean, maybe i just noticed it today, but i feel different from the girl i was 24 days ago. i feel more serious. i feel less dramatic. i feel like i've suddenly been transformed into this down-to-business, no-nonsense, live real all the time kinda woman. what's the point in being scared, or afraid, or timid?
i've always been driven, my whole life, by making sure people like me. and when i got too close to someone, i started to feel uncomfortable, because once they really knew me...i mean reeeally knew me, they probably wouldn't like me anymore for all my short-comings. but now....it just all seems so pointless. i want to be a likable person, because perhaps that's a Godly quality...being lovable in a way that makes showing God's love more honest. but beyond loving people with all my heart and living like Jesus, it's really not my responsibility to ensure people love me, is it?
death makes you think about those kinds of things. or at least, it's made me think about these things in a much more serious, significant way. life is so extremely short. and more than anything in this world, i long to leave the kind of legacy my dad left. i guarantee in another two or ten years no one will remember that he once fixed their car or their toilet. or anyway, they won't remember those actions as much as they'll remember that he was a kind-hearted, generous man who would give up anything to lend a hand, in the middle of the night, or the middle of the day, for no pay, and with a smile. well, okay, maybe he wouldn't always smile about it, but if he grumbled at all, it was in a way that made you feel like he wasn't really upset at all that he was spending his afternoon or his sleeping hours relighting your water heater's pilot light.
his legacy doesn't make him famous, and it doesn't even make his life meaningful. and that's not what i'm looking for after my death, either. but i do hope that my life means something to someone out there. that some person felt loved and care for because their life somehow intertwined with mine. obviously my life is going to be changed because my dad died. obviously things will never "go back to normal" and will never be the same as they were just a month ago. i don't expect or desire them to, because i am a changed woman, and the woman i'm growing into by the hour has a brand new respect for things like the big picture and what life, as short as sometimes it may be, is really about.
i've always been driven, my whole life, by making sure people like me. and when i got too close to someone, i started to feel uncomfortable, because once they really knew me...i mean reeeally knew me, they probably wouldn't like me anymore for all my short-comings. but now....it just all seems so pointless. i want to be a likable person, because perhaps that's a Godly quality...being lovable in a way that makes showing God's love more honest. but beyond loving people with all my heart and living like Jesus, it's really not my responsibility to ensure people love me, is it?
death makes you think about those kinds of things. or at least, it's made me think about these things in a much more serious, significant way. life is so extremely short. and more than anything in this world, i long to leave the kind of legacy my dad left. i guarantee in another two or ten years no one will remember that he once fixed their car or their toilet. or anyway, they won't remember those actions as much as they'll remember that he was a kind-hearted, generous man who would give up anything to lend a hand, in the middle of the night, or the middle of the day, for no pay, and with a smile. well, okay, maybe he wouldn't always smile about it, but if he grumbled at all, it was in a way that made you feel like he wasn't really upset at all that he was spending his afternoon or his sleeping hours relighting your water heater's pilot light.
his legacy doesn't make him famous, and it doesn't even make his life meaningful. and that's not what i'm looking for after my death, either. but i do hope that my life means something to someone out there. that some person felt loved and care for because their life somehow intertwined with mine. obviously my life is going to be changed because my dad died. obviously things will never "go back to normal" and will never be the same as they were just a month ago. i don't expect or desire them to, because i am a changed woman, and the woman i'm growing into by the hour has a brand new respect for things like the big picture and what life, as short as sometimes it may be, is really about.
Friday, December 28, 2007
day 23
it's weird. i watched tv for a couple hours tonight...very relaxed, content...just sitting around doing nothing. i think about my dad constantly, all throughout the day...i miss him like crazy, of course, but most hours in the day i have a huge peace hanging about me, keeping me at a distance from sorrow. the weird part is...i never can predict when my dad's death is going to come crushing down on me. after all that tv watching, i went to the fridge for some ice water. the program from my dad's memorial service is stuck under a couple magnets on the phifers' fridge (where i'm staying at the moment), and i just glanced at the picture on the cover. then i went across the room, poured myself a glass of water from the filter i just pulled out of the fridge, went back and grabbed a beer, set it on the counter next to my water, and felt a wave of sadness. for some reason when i have a "wave" like that, i always think to myself, and almost always say out loud, "oh, dad." i'm not sure why, but that's what i say. after i got the beer out of the fridge and set it down, i picked up my water glass to go into the living room (more tv)...and out of nowhere i just LOST it.
it feels good to cry loud and hard. when i'm at home i don't like to sob, 'cause i'm afraid my mom will hear and that will make her sad all over again. so being here alone and letting loose was nice. i mean, as nice as weeping for the loss of my dad can feel. my heart breaks in those moments. i feel a thousand different things all at once. lots of things involving "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" and what i'm supposed to feel and not supposed to feel. because i KNOW my dad's chillin' with Jesus in paradise, i often feel guilt for moments like these when i hit bottom and cry my eyes out. if i'm so happy for my dad's eternal state, why am i so sad?
these things are so hard. everything is so confusing and everything is turned upside down. i always thought i knew how i'd react to true heartbreak, but i guess ya can't ever really be prepared for what it's going to be like. sometimes everything in my past up to this point feels like such a dream. like did it ever really happen? was i happy once upon a time? of course i know the answer to that, but the dichotomy is part of what makes all this so confusing.
just to reiterate, i don't type all this out because i'm looking for answers. i promise there's no answer out there. just time. and God. but i appreciate you reading all the same. even though nothing in life makes sense right now, talking about it (or writing) sure helps.
it feels good to cry loud and hard. when i'm at home i don't like to sob, 'cause i'm afraid my mom will hear and that will make her sad all over again. so being here alone and letting loose was nice. i mean, as nice as weeping for the loss of my dad can feel. my heart breaks in those moments. i feel a thousand different things all at once. lots of things involving "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts" and what i'm supposed to feel and not supposed to feel. because i KNOW my dad's chillin' with Jesus in paradise, i often feel guilt for moments like these when i hit bottom and cry my eyes out. if i'm so happy for my dad's eternal state, why am i so sad?
these things are so hard. everything is so confusing and everything is turned upside down. i always thought i knew how i'd react to true heartbreak, but i guess ya can't ever really be prepared for what it's going to be like. sometimes everything in my past up to this point feels like such a dream. like did it ever really happen? was i happy once upon a time? of course i know the answer to that, but the dichotomy is part of what makes all this so confusing.
just to reiterate, i don't type all this out because i'm looking for answers. i promise there's no answer out there. just time. and God. but i appreciate you reading all the same. even though nothing in life makes sense right now, talking about it (or writing) sure helps.
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