Grief

I lost my dad in 2013. Now that it's 2015, it sounds like such a long time ago. If there's one thing I have learned about losing someone close to you it is that grief is in no way a linear process. In fact, I feel like I'm only starting to grieve the loss of my father.

While he was still alive and nearing the end stages of cancer, I remember thinking that I was already in the "acceptance" phase. That we had, together, gone through denial and anger and sadness and bargaining and that we had accepted that, at some point, this disease would take him. And even for the first year after-- I thought "I'm handling this pretty well." When in fact-- I probably wasn't handling it at all.

It's a weird thing. I was almost able to convince myself that it was just a matter of time until I could call him. Like I just hadn't spoken to him in a while, not that he was actually gone. And when that urge to call him came up I would just say "I'll talk to him later." Apparently that was my way on denying this whole thing ever happened. And then Thanksgiving 2014 approached and all of a sudden all those words I kept telling myself were no longer working and it occurred to me that maybe it was time for me to actually grieve my loss. So, for the past 2 months that's what I've been trying to let myself do. Cry. And cry a lot.

This has made me realize that in our society there seems to be some unwritten rules about grief and loss. The first, is that it's a private matter. What would you say if someone came up to you, started tearing up, and said "A year ago I lost my dad and I'm just real sad about it now?" Before, I would have thought... all right... get yourself together... it's been a year! But my views on grieving have definitely changed! For me, I haven't really talked about the loss with anyone besides my mom and sometimes my sister. It's been difficult to talk to my boyfriend about it because they were not able to meet. He has no emotional connection to my dad. So to him, my dad's death isn't really a loss. Just in the same way that his grandmother that died wasn't a loss to me because I never knew her. ((It makes me wonder though how much better people would be if they were able to share their grief with others openly?!))

It's also weird the things that I think of and can remember when it comes to losing him. I recently drove to Kingman over New Year's and I cried the majority of the way. Remember that one time you had to leave a big family dinner and drive by yourself to say goodbye to your dying father? Remember how you tried to celebrate Thanksgiving and then your birthday and then Christmas without him? And how every year from now on that will be the case?

This post has actually been hard to write because I feel like I have to defend my grief to others. There were several times when I had to take out words like "don't get me wrong I feel blessed to have had last moments with him" and "I feel lucky to have made it there in time" etc. But I shouldn't have to say things like that because all it does is invalidate my sadness. Because even if those things are true, it doesn't take away the sting I feel when I think about calling him and remembering there is no one to call. Or when I see pictures of my cousins with all their children playing with their papas and knowing that my future kids will never get that, or when people talk about spending the weekends with their dads, or when I see pictures of dads walking their daughters down the aisles at their weddings. Those all sting, and to say they don't isn't fair to me.

I also wonder often if others grieve for him still. I barely talk to my cousins at this point. And it seems odd to call my uncles. At times it feels like my dad was the only link holding us together. They have their own lives and their own families, and sometimes I feel like I'm left here to carry all this grief alone. And then on the other hand I wonder if it's really me having a hard time reaching out to them because of the amount of grief I'm holding. I think I have been viewing my grief as a burden-- one that I don't want to pass along to other people.

Recently, I read something about grief: "Grief is like waves of the ocean. Sometimes the water doesn't reach you. Sometimes it comes up around your toes or your ankles or can swirl all the way up around your knees. And sometimes a big wave comes and knocks you right off your feet." That is definitely the most accurate thing I have found to describe my grief. Most days I'm fine and I can see my grief there- out on the horizon-  but it's okay. And then there are some mornings (like today) where the waves just engulf me and I'm left trying to swim my way back to the top.

But writing this all out has gotten the waves back down to at least my shins. And putting this all out to the universe has made me feel a bit lighter.

So if you did make it this far down- thank you for letting me share my grief with you.