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right where you are

Today marks 6 months since you died, Dad. Time is flying and standing still.  The grief hits differently everyday. Sometimes like a punch in the gut, sometimes for a breath or two, and at other times a full wave of sorrow that seems to last way longer than my body is cut out for.


As the days go by, it’s harder to flood my mind of memories 44 years in the making. There are many there, yeah, but only the same few replay in my mind.  The pictures and videos and voice memos have been exhausted. And to think that there won’t be any new ones is heart wrenching. The reality of the finality of his death is deafening. My absolute fear is forgetting his voice, his mannerisms, his laugh.  And sometimes that fear consumes me, especially when I realize there are only a very few people who are going through the depth of this loss along with me.


I read something yesterday about how our bodies hold the trauma of our loss.  Um yeah, we get that. But it went further to say that it holds the trauma of the anniversaries too. Like your body knows it’s been 6 months and the waves of shock that first took hold can come back.  And I get this.  It’s somewhat comforting to know this in a morbid way.  Like no, you’re not going backwards, you’re not going crazy.  It’s just your body remembering…. The shock, the horror, the terror, the fear ,the heartBROKENness of it all.


There are still people who ask how I am, and really ask, not the empty check in shit of “Hope you’re well!”  Yeah, I’m not. My Dad was a constant in my life and now he’s gone.  Many people that ask with sincerity ask what they can do, not only for me but for people they know going through the same experiences. (And that quiet knowing that they’re going to have to go through the same thing at some point too.)


The answer? Keep asking the questions. The biggest fear I think many of us hold is that a main character in our weird ass shit play of life has been cut out and no one will remember how big his role was. So keep asking...about their person... about their experience... about their heart.


For any of you helping someone grieve, my biggest piece of advice would be to realize that time doesn’t apply. It’s been 6 months, and before my Dad died, I thought that was a long time to get over someone. I mean, it is the “allotted time” that our fucked up society gives to grieve.  You can’t just keep grieving. You have to get over it. Move on.  Distract yourself. Stay busy. Don’t let people see you upset.


BULLSHIT.


You don’t move on when someone is plucked out of your life.  You learn to move forward, with them. With the love and support they gave, with their guidance in the back of your head, with the memories. You learn to lean on people who show up and you don’t pretend shit is fine. You look for signs if that’s comforting for you and you welcome their presence.


But you don’t move on. So don't expect to.

Your love was too deep for that.

Accepting this, understanding grief is here to stay and knowing

you're right where you are

is a good start.




 

I had this thought that all of our hearts are like apple seeds

Waitin' on sympathy, waitin' on love

And all that you are and all that the rain brings is empathy

You're right where you're meant to be, right where you are


And all I know is the rain has left me still standin'


Feathers will fly and lights will shine bright on the motorcade

It's more like a hate parade, it's more like a hoax

But see through it all like you've got a gold pocket lookin' glass

I hope when you're lookin' back, you look back with love


And all I know is the rain has left me still standin'

And you can't be sure of the mornin'

Sure Of by Caamp




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You will never forget his voice. It's been 12 years since my dear old dad (as we called him) died, and his voice and mannerisms and habits (cookies for breakfast) are always with me. I'm curious to know about the everyday habits defined your dad!❤️

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