Society teaches us that having feelings and crying is bad and wrong. Well, that's baloney, because grief isn't wrong. There's such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown.
- Michael Scott, The Office
I did it again, I stopped writing. I haven't known how to express what I've been feeling, so for those of you who, whoever you are out there reading this, I'm back, at least for now. We had months and really years to prepare for my Dad's death. I was ready so ready for his suffering to end and ours as well. I really thought after being on the bungee cord of being pulled close to death so many times over the last 16 years and then bouncing back to "normal" life, that when the time came for my Dad to finally pass, I'd be ready. Psssshhhawww right! About a week after Dad's memorial service I realized this wasn't going to be over after a few days of crying and then I'd move on. After all was said and done and I was no longer checking on Dad's nursing home care or making funeral plans, after all was stripped away, all I was left with was grief. Grief over losing my Dad.
I really thought I'd suffered all the loss possible. When I was 16 I lost my Dad as my pastor because he was suffering through radiation/chemo/and brain surgeries no longer able to pastor a church. There are so many other losses after that, the physical stability of Dad (and for the sake of his dignity I'll spare you the details of him losing motivation for physical therapy), then over time we lost so much of his "real" personality-as we now know was the early stages of dementia, eventually the hardest loss came as he was no longer able to clearly communicate with us in distinguishable words. A whole heck of a lot of loss...so you can imagine, I thought I was prepared for the final loss of life. But I wasn't and I realize now how foolish that thought was.
Truth be told I am finally able to grieve. I didn't feel like the world was giving me permission to grieve all those other losses because after all in some shape or form I still had my Dad. Now I am able to grieve freely. I have a lot of catching up to do. 16 years worth! I'd love for it to be a 12-step process that I could work through in a weekend retreat and be done with, unfortunately it doesn't work like that. But in some odd way it doesn't always feel so bad, it does kind of feel good. Like in the Chronicles of Narnia when C.S. Lewis describes Aslan the lion as literally ripping off the old flesh so that new skin can grow. I know that pain is being stripped away, years and years of pain, and for that I am grateful. I am grateful to let go. It's letting go of my Dad that's hard. No longer do I remember him as an "ill" man but rather simply as my father.
Don't get me wrong I've moved on with my life. I'm working daily in my very busy summer internship and spending time with friends/my husband in the evenings. I'm enjoying life. However, many nights I do find myself overwhelmed with sadness over the dumbest and smallest things-yesterday-the Cosby Show...don't ask! A few weeks ago I spoke with my Mom and I couldn't believe how much better than me she seemed to be dealing with all of it. I said, "I feel like I'm dealing with this the worst out of everyone." She hesitated and said with what sounded like a smile, "Well you kind of are." As laughter mingled with my crying she said, "We all knew you'd take it the hardest, after all, you always were Daddy's little girl." Still laughing and crying I said, "If everyone knew I wish they would have told me!" I had no idea it would be this hard! I guess no matter what turmoil I felt toward my relationship with my father years ago or how prepared I was in recent months to see my Father's suffering end, I always was and always will be, Daddy's little girl. I miss him, a lot. Good grief!
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