Tag Archives: loss

Day 746 but who’s counting.

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Dear Dad – I’m late in regards to writing to you, and for that I’m so sorry. I don’t even know if you read this, but in the off chance that you do place know I do think about you a lot. I just always voice it.

So much has happened over the past two years that it’s hard to keep straight and articulate.

Lots and lots of loss.

Loss of friendship, jobs, family members, opportunities, relationships, pride, health, control, confidence, and self respect to name a few. The list goes on and on and on.

I know that I am exhausted mentally and physically in regards to all of the loss. It’s been occurring since June 2015 – I don’t know how much more a family should have to suffer. And frankly, I’m afraid to even think about it because I don’t think I can bear one more thing.

Or- maybe, just maybe this is just the way it is, I’m just noticing it, and I need to suck it up because huge loss like this is just part of the world in which we live in.

I will say that two years out since you have departed planet earth things at least from my perspective have gotten a little easier. I still miss you horribly. But I don’t have that gut wrenching – oh my God – I don’t think I can get through another day pain that I did when you first died. It’s been replaced with a longing of sorts. Still wanting to make sure things are right between us but trusting you know that I loved you to the ends of the earth. And if the universe works like I think it might – you know my thoughts because you can feel them, and there is such a fine line that separates those of us walking the earth and those if us who have departed earth – I just can’t help but think you know how we feel inside about those we love.

Mom is doing really well – I’m really proud of her. She is thriving dad. She’s busy, she’s surrounded by her kids, and while she misses the hell out of you, I think she’s relatively happy. And that’s all we can ask for. Every day with her is a gift.

So dad- we are living life. I wish I could say we are living life to the full list but you know what – that’s our deal. And I’m working on it. And I love you. And please don’t ever forget that.

If your dad died…

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If your dad died I just want to say to you I’m just so sorry. Really I am but the truth is there are no good words that are going to help you right now or bring you comfort, because frankly regardless of what kind of relationship you had with your dad – when your father dies it just fucking sucks.

My dad died January 20th, 2016. We knew this day would come we just didn’t expect it to be that soon I guess – but really are you ever prepared for the death of a parent? I know I wasn’t.

I used to think that moving into your own place, buying your first car, getting married, having a child, your first job – all of those things are all about being a grown-up. However, I don’t really think I became a true grown up until I lost a parent. I had so many what the fuck moments after my dad died that it’s impossible to keep track of all of them now.

My father‘s death was complicated. Maybe not so much for him – I believe he died very peacefully without struggle. At least I was told he didn’t appear to have struggled, and looked very peaceful in death.

For me what was complicated was that I don’t feel like everything that needed to be said was in fact said. I think that when I reflect upon his death there were a lot of things that were left unsaid. And I hope he’s not struggling with that piece of this like I am.

So what am I left with now? He’s dead and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. I just hope wherever he is he is at peace, he’s happy, and loving himself.

Life goes on for those who are left and what’s my blowing is how fast the time goes by at least for me – I can’t speak for my mom or my siblings.

There are things that I’m starting to forget which makes me very sad – like the way he sounded when he said my name. Or the way he used to call me number one from Star Trek. The way he smelled – he was old school and he wore aqua Velva and in the days that he smoked the combination of aqua Velva and cigarette smoke with just so my dad.

Our family is very different now – I wouldn’t have admitted it or year ago but now that we are going on your two I feel comfortable in saying that our family dud not disintegrate, fall apart, or become disenfranchised. We have all come together as a solid unit cleaving to one another and it’s been incredible.

I sometimes wonder if my dad is sad about that. And I hope he’s not.

But if your dad has died today again I’m really sorry and I’m just gonna prepare you for some really sad days ahead – lots of time for reflection – a lot of tears on those first birthdays, holidays and other important days that you will be remembering your dad on. But I’m going to tell you there is another side to this – and you’ll get to it. It does get better – you’ll always remember him regardless if he was the son of a bitch or not – but he was still your dad. And it’s really OK to love and miss him.

20 months. Is that even possible.

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Dad- I feel like an asshole. I promised myself and you that I’d write here regularly. I didn’t want to forget. I wanted to remember. But like most things in my life the idea is great but the follow through isn’t always fabulous. You know those good intentions.

If I’m being honest – perfectly honest I fool myself sometimes that you’re not really truly dead. Like today for example. And then I’ll think about you- something you said or did and I’ll have to stop and say okay he’s really gone, and he’s not coming back.

I’m sorry I haven’t been coming here regularly. I guess this is kind of like a gravesite of sorts.

The first year the flowers or rocks appear all the time and as more time passes the visits get less and less.

Is that the way it’s suppose to be?

It doesn’t seem like it’s been 20 months, sometimes it feels like 20 minutes and I can’t breathe.

I’m so sorry for your loss…or something like that.

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I know, right? 

It’s kind of like at Kroger or Whole Foods when they ask you if you’ve found everything all right?  

It’s expected, they are supposed to ask.

I hate I’m so sorry for you loss. It’s not like I lost my car keys, my wedding ring, or a gold bracelet. 

I’m really sorry would just suffice. There’s really nothing else to say.

I see him everywhere.

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I was at the doctors office today which is located in our local hospital – and I could’ve sworn I saw my father three different times walking off the elevator.

It still doesn’t seem real. I know it’s real. I have forgotten what he sounds like and that is just heart wrenching.

When I look at the date I can’t believe it’s been 12 days since he died. I made a promise that I would write in this journal every day and I haven’t kept his promise and I feel horrible. But some days I just can’t make it type for my brain think of the words because all I do is cry.