Monday, September 28, 2015

So This Is Life

So, yesterday was a year. A year that he left us, and heaven gained one of its best angels. For weeks, maybe even months, I prepared myself to be an emotional wreck that day. And yet, when it came, the tears didn't fall. I asked his friends/our family to share happy memories on Facebook so we could all smile and remember everything he meant to us. So I found myself checking Facebook all day to see if anything new had been posted to his timeline. The rest of the day I kept myself busy with things I knew wouldn't have sadness that might trigger a breakdown. So when the day ended and I'd made it through with only a few times of tears welling up, I thought "Huh. Maybe I am actually coming to terms with this."

Then this morning came.

I spent most of my getting-ready-for-work routine crying. Cried most of the way to work. Managed to pull it together, then in speaking with a co-worker that recently lost her Mom, broke again. I suddenly realized that it was because I was coming to terms with the fact that: this is now life. In the last year, it's kind of been "new". You know, it's only been a couple/few months... it's fresh, so it doesn't seem real. We were still dealing with settling his estate, there were constant reminders around. Yesterday apparently cemented in my mind that he's gone. It's been a year, and I really do have to learn how to deal with life without my Daddy/my friend.

Everything still seems so clear. Like it was hours ago. And this could be why the nurse kept asking/telling people to get me to leave the room more often than I was (hardly at all) in those last days. To scar me less, maybe? But I wouldn't have done it any differently. Even when I left so his friends/family/church family could have their time with him, I was ready to be back in the room with him. Those last few days I barely let go of his hand. We had Pandora playing and sang to him. The times I was in the room alone with him, I would talk to him in between singing. I wanted him to know we were there. I had "conversations" with him, just because I knew how he would respond if he could. Or maybe I was making him "respond" how I wanted him to... which he'd tell you was probably more accurate. The one day I asked him if he could wake up so we could sing Love Shack on karaoke and his thumb squeezed against my hand would be a good example of this (he hated singing that song and made sure I knew it, but always did it for me - his squeeze was his sign of protest). But the main reason I couldn't leave: I wanted to be there for him like he's always been there for me. I couldn't heal him. I couldn't take his pain. But I could be there to support/comfort him, as he had done for me so many times over the years. 

The people that tell me "time heals" clearly must have years under their belt, or are a lot stronger than me. I miss coming home and him singing to Allie (while I walked in the door) "Who can it beeeeeeeeee now?" I miss watching The Walking Dead with him, and him making fun of me the next day for every time I freaked because they got a little TOO close to killing Daryl Dixon. I miss going and watching Eddie & Debbie sing at Neil's with him/our friends. More than anything, and something I don't see myself ever getting over, I miss singing with him. Whether it were karaoke, at church, random songs we'd burst into when something on TV/someone said would trigger a song in our heads. 

I used to always tease him for the "wrong" things he gave me. Crazy bad eyesight, big feet, bad knees, etc etc etc. And he'd tell me that he used to be sane, then Liz cracked the wall of sanity, and I came barreling through. To which I'd respond first "Whatever. I think I could get accounts from your family proving otherwise." and then telling him all of the "bad" was balanced out by the fact he gave me a lot of my personality. I'm loud, silly, and many times what some would see as crazy. He called me his dramatic child. Because I may or may not have had moments of drama over the years. *places hand over entire family's mouth* But what he saw as drama, I saw as an extension of him. Problem is, when you put that personality into a female... :-). So he gave me some of my personality, my writing passion (hence the reason I'm expressing my emotions tonight through words), and my love of singing. Then of course I got lucky enough to have Mama give me the love of everything else artistic. Drawing, painting, sewing, etc. Between the two of them, I have so much potential. One day... haha.

I feel like this a good point to come to a close. We're all smiling (or at least, I am) and I hope that will get easier and easier to do as time passes. I miss you, Daddy. Heaven's choir is the best it's ever been. I promise to keep singing. 

All my love,