Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Our Father...

Hey Buddy! 

Lol. I've never called you that. 

Hi Dad!

It's been two years in a few short hours. Feels like 2 minutes. I've been overwhelmed? Overcome? With grief these past few weeks. I say weeks because it's seriously been that long. Weeks since I've felt anything besides pain. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just know it's all I feel. 

I tried to explain it to Mom tonight but I can't. And yet I know she understands. I hope she does. I pray she does. 

I pray for a lot of things Dad. I mostly pray that you are listening. Because I cannot imagine a world any longer in which you are not. 

Year two brings all sorts of regrets. Things I should have said. Things I wished I had said. Things I DID say. I am not sure where these regrets came from but there they were.

 I'm incredibly imperfect. Mom told me she tried to tell you so and you refused to listen. Or you wouldn't help her sort it out. I am blessed that she took it on herself and embraced me. I know you did too. We had a chat. Over an ice run for four-wheelers. Lol. Never forget it. 

I miss you. Something fierce. 

I don't know if I will ever find me again. I don't know if I ever knew who she was to begin with. I just know that my heart has an empty space where you used to be. And I also know I will never be the VP of Dick Blick. But thank you for telling that young man that night that I was. Because I will never forget it. 

My God I miss you. 

Our Father. Who Art in Heaven. Please tell my Dad I miss him. 


Tuesday, September 1, 2015

The Grief Blanket

Sometimes grief is like a blanket.  And I wear it wrapped around me like I am in a cocoon.  And I fear getting out of it because I am not sure I will understand how to function without it wrapped around me.  Sometimes the grief is there, but not wrapped tightly.  Just enough so I can feel it on my skin; feel its weight, but it is not overwhelming.  Like when you need just a sheet on at night…

I do not know when I will wear grief.  It is not like I get up in the morning and when I am deciding what to wear that I look at grief hanging over in the corner waiting for me to pick it for the day.  Grief climbs on no matter what color I choose.  Sometimes it is subtle and sometimes I cannot put on enough clothes to cover it up.  I do not know in advance that it is stopping by.  It doesn’t really ask for an invitation, it just sort of shows up.  So, I cannot really plan for it or prepare.  Like the dinner guest you did not know you were having, but the guilt is so overwhelming, so you feed them something even if it is something you just had to throw together.

I can tell you that at its heaviest, it can feel like that weighted “jacket” they give you when you are getting an x-ray.  But not in a way that you can just slide it off…it is attached…tied behind you, so you cannot just unlatch it.  It is there.  It’s on tight…it is locked.  It is not something you want someone else unlocking either, otherwise that creates a dependency you do not want or need.  The grief blanket is an easy thing to want someone else to remove for you, or help you with, but let me tell you in advance, that is not a good idea.  No one can wear your grief for you, or remove it from your wardrobe.  It’s an individual, personal journey.  And the road is long.

This is a tough week for me.  I know that it is not an easy one for my siblings either, but thankfully I cannot get in their heads and express their emotions.  They would not love that if I could. This was his favorite time of year.  He worked stupid hard on getting the farm ready.  He LOVED throwing the year’s biggest party.  He also loved drinking everyone’s beer and eating their food.  It was a balance for him.

The worst part about this week is that in just a few more weeks after this one, it will be the anniversary of when I feel like he was just plucked out of the sky.  I know that loss, grief, etc. works differently for everyone.  I can go along for months seemingly unaware of its presence, but knowing it is there because it feels like a soft t-shirt; comfortable, but not bothersome…tolerable perhaps even.  Then, for reasons I will never know, the t-shirt becomes a heavy blanket.

This used to be my favorite time of year.  Now I just want to have someone, in the words of one of Sisters favorite songs, “wake me up, when September ends.” 

It does not get easier.  For anyone that hopes it will, or tells me it will.  It does not.  I cannot tell you when it will happen or why, I just know it will.  And I won’t be able to explain it to someone who has not gone through it, I just hope I find the right people to be around who get it.  Who at least will understand?  Understand that although they cannot see it, I am dragging around a very heavy blanket and that sometimes I just want to crawl under it.

It takes a tremendous amount of strength to push it off and move forward.  And there can be a sense of loss just by trying to remove it too, which sounds incredulous, but it’s true. Because although there are times it can smother you, you also do not want it to disappear because then that means you have forgot him completely.  And I never, ever want to do that.


My grief blanket is heavy right now…and I just wanted you to know Dad, that I am doing everything I can to lift it and honor you by trying to celebrate this week, not loathe it.  Holy mother of God it is hard.