It’s Saturday… none of us want to do anything, but I don’t want to sit here either because then I have to think…. And I don’t wanna think right now because it leads me to the truth… And the truth makes me feel uncomfortable. It reminds me that death is real… maybe the realest thing I’ve ever encountered. But how can something so final be so alive, so real and so close to me right now? I feel like death and it’s presence is realer than my father was because it’s that life altering. It smacks me in the face everyday… Like I can’t get away from it’s constant reminder that life is changing in ways that I never thought possible.
Everyone keeps saying that we’re so strong… but I don’t feel strong. Mom doesn’t feel strong either. And we aren’t basket cases or depressed… but we are so sad, heartbroken and just want dad back. I mean, I really don’t feel strong today at all. I feel weak and vulnerable and I want the situation to go away… but like I said, it won’t go away because it’s so real. Death is real. Death is alive.
So, in these moments… do I choose to stay down and pout a little? Do I choose to just feel it all and embrace my thoughts and feelings? Or, do I choose to pull myself together and find something constructive to do with this day? I almost wish we had to work today… but we don’t.
And… what would dad want me to do? Well… he would definitely tell me not to whine and complain, which I’m not doing… But just thinking about him telling me to stop whining makes me feel better and miss him all at once. And he would encourage me to make something out of this day and not be down. If he was here, he’d be walking in and out of the house… telling me to help him cut down a tree, get the compressor out of his truck, fix him breakfast, or show him how to work the computer. He’d say, “chin-up pooch! It’s gonna be ok.” And it’s true… it is going to be ok… but gosh this sucks.
Mom and I laid in bed until 3 am talking about so many things… reliving scenarios and trying to wrap our minds around complex subjects. She keeps saying we are so busy we don’t have time to grieve… which is true… But even if we had time, what would we do? Sit around and cry? Talk through things? I don’t know. I don’t know how to grieve. I think writing is really helping me figure things out, but is this my way of grieving?
And what is grief anyways? I read a quote that said, “grief is the last act of love we have to give to those we loved. Where there is deep grief, there was great love.” So is my grief deeper than I can imagine or can feel right now? Because I loved my dad so freaking much. And if it is that deep… if my grief is heavy and almost burdensome… how do I make sure I don’t carry it? And how do I make sure I get it all out and experience it in it’s fullness?
I feel like grief is death’s partner… Like death is alive and real and so present… And then grief comes along and helps you sort through the realness and rawness of death. Almost like death needs grief and grief needs death to work together and be complete. I honestly don’t think I could handle death without grief… it would just be… well… too much.