Thursday, March 8, 2012

The road to healing

Some people wonder why I would post about such personal topics on such an impersonal place, but writing is therapeutic, and sharing it with the faceless world, though knowing that this will be read and aknowledged by at least a few people makes me feel better. That being said, if you don't feel comfortable reading about my dealings with death and all of that darkness that comes with it, then I would encourage you to stop reading.

 I am making some small progress with concern to my father's passing. There is still so much pain that comes with this, I wonder how it will pass. Its true that I've only recently started to aknowledge the fact of his death, so maybe this is all what is supposed to happen. You would think after 12 years, I would stop whining about it, but I feel like I am just starting. I have this insatiable hunger for every little scrap of memory people have about him, but seem so shy about sharing. Noone wants to talk about my father, except for the general stuff like that he was the life of the party, what a great guy he was, how much he is missed, and how much I look like him. I know all this. When I ask you to tell me about him, I want you to tell me little things that seem so important. What was his favorite color? His favortie food? Did he like going to Church, did he struggle with faith like I am? Was his asthma as bad as mine? All these trivial things that I will never know unless someone tells me. I want to know him, because I dont know anything about him.

I just learnt a few days ago that he listened to this record on repeat many many times when he was my age. Which is funny because I had listened to this band many times before without knowing why I liked it so much, and chalked it up to me liking weird obscure people noone knew. And after randomly posting it in Facebook, one of his childhood friends admitted to me that my father was in love with them when they came out. She wouldnt tell me anything else, but it was still a little bit more about him than I knew before. So now I listen to this on repeat and feel a little closer to him. I want to go this summer to his burial site, bring two beers (although I hate beer, I know that he loved it) and I will blast this record and share a drink with my father, and maybe I will heal just a little more. A little at a time.


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  2. Aw, I know how you feel. My paternal grandmother once got out a box of relics of my father, so to speak - this was once we were adults, and it was the first time we'd seen it - and it had yearbooks (it was so funny and bizarre to see what he chose to put in his profile), but also personal things like the lyrics of a song he liked that he copied onto the back of a receipt - really poetic ones. I read them over and over, it was quite arresting - it was like he was in the room with me, but not like the way he used to be, when he was just My Dad - it was like seeing this part of his interior life I never knew existed. I wish I had more scraps like that. Was he an introspective person, like me? What else was he moved by? I truly hope he has been or will be received into the light of heaven, by the grace of God; I want very much to begin to really know him in heaven.

  3. I don't think there is any wrong way to grieve. I haven't completely coped with the death of a family friend and have recently begun grieving for Randy's sister- who I've never met. I just feel other's pain so strongly, and I really wish I had gotten the chance to meet her.

    We all grieve and cope differently. And it is not wrong that your grief has suddenly awakened. Sometimes it's just idling by or burried so deep because we don't feel strong enough to deal with it.

    That being said if you ever need someone to go with you, you just need to talk or have a shoulder to cry on, I'm not that far away.

    No one knows how you are feeling better then yourself - and there is nothing wrong with how you feel.