"Sometimes you have to be apart from the people you love, but that doesn't make you love them any less. Sometimes it makes you love them more."
I can't believe it's been one year today since my dad passed away. When you think about it, no one really passes away. Well not in my dad's case anyway. He slipped away. He was taken away. You might think this sounds pessimistic. Everyone tells me that will fade with time and that one day this thing I haven't wrapped my head around will make sense. Or maybe not make sense, but my heart will heal. People don't really pass away. They leave. They go somewhere but leave us here, leave their whole life behind. His socks were still in the dryer. Phone numbers and notes by the answering machine. Water in his cup. Gas in his tank. Damp towel on the ring. Milk in the fridge. Leaves on the porch. It was still all there. But somehow he just wasn't. With no warning he was just gone. I can't believe I haven't seen my dad, hugged my dad, or talked to my dad in a year. If I knew the last time I hugged him was the last time, I probably never would have let go. Which is why it's sometimes better we don't know when it's coming.
It's been quite a year. Trials of course. Burden. Pain. Heartache so bad you don't know if you'll ever stop feeling like you're about to suffocate. Confusion. Sickness. Losing friends. Betrayal. Lies. Grief. Anger. Resentment. Crying myself to sleep.
It's a part of life. Be thankful we can feel. Emotions are a blessing.
There have been good things as well. The good outweigh and out number the bad. There is always beauty wherever you look. And there are so many things in my life to be grateful for, it makes days like today a little more bearable. And of course knowing that one day I will see that big beautiful smile of my dad's again. But I've always known that. The heartache doesn't come from thinking you'll never see them again. It comes from wondering how you're going to get through this part, this thing we call life, without him. I can't get myself to delete his phone number from my phone. I still go downstairs and listen to his voice on our answering machine. I still sleep in his shirts, hold his pictures to my heart, and cry in my mom's arms. The thing I miss most is being able to call him and ask for advice, or telling him something I'm excited about, and being on the phone for hours talking about everything, hearing all that love. I'm crying as I type this and I can still hear him say, "Pook, put the phone down and go wipe your tears and blow your nose." So I would of course. And then he'd laugh and say, "Geez, did you step on a duck?!" Every time. He definitely knew how to make us laugh, or calm us down. It's so funny that the things that used to embarrass me the most about my dad are now my favorite stories to tell, and what my family and I talk about the most.
The thing that haunts me the most to this day, is something I heard someone I was no longer friends with say about my relationship with my dad.
"Don't feel bad for her, she never wanted to be around her dad until he was dying..." and "She's afraid of the world that's why she's at home living off money from her dad's death." I don't know the exact phrases. My friend who got the texts wouldn't let me read them because he was too mad, and knew it would kill me.
There's not one night I lay in bed where those words don't haunt me.
People know the guilt you feel and know how to push your weakest button. Did I feel guilt? Of course. It haunted me. I should have known he was sick. I should have been there. I should have been able to stop it. Why wasn't I in the room with him when he died? I didn't love him enough. He didn't know how much I loved him. I wasn't a good enough daughter. Why didn't I say I love you more? I didn't hug him enough. Guilt so bad you feel like you might die from the pain.
Defending this would do nothing. It was obviously all lies. People lie all the time. And people say things they don't mean. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone says things in the heat of the moment that they don't mean. A loose tongue is easy to have, especially when you yourself are hurting. If we kept score of everyone who ever hurt us or said something mean we'd run out of numbers and we wouldn't ever let ourself trust anyone. The act isn't what kills me. But instead that the sacred relationship I have with my dad was tarnished for even a moment. My dad's memory is a sacred gift to me. One day I hope the words will leave my head.
But with all that said, I have to say, a year later, I'm in a pretty good place. Well compared to where I was. And believe me, I'm still a mess, so we can only go up from here right? Things are definitely not perfect, but sometimes there's beauty in letting go and living a day at a time. And I deeply feel that you have to make a conscious effort to be happy. Happiness is a choice. You have to be a part of the manifestation of your own happiness. I'm trying to rebuild myself, and find myself again. I'm living in a city I adore. I'm lucky to be around my family everyday. I'm working towards a career I think will be fulfilling. I'm getting myself healthy in every aspect. I'm leaving my heart open to love. I'm preparing myself for my babies. I'm enjoying the hobbies I hold dear to my heart. And I've surrounded myself with the absolute greatest, most genuine and amazing people I've ever had the honor of knowing and calling family. I've learned a lot this year, been tested and tried, somehow gained an even deeper relationship and love with my dad, been at rock bottom and am working my way back up. I know my dad, especially now, is not worried about me. He's always believed in me and known the things I am capable of. If I were to tell him one thing besides I love you, it would be daddy, I'm going to be okay. But he already knows that. I'm the one that needs convincing. After he died, Bishop Hood sent me a text telling me I'd smile again, I'd laugh again, I'd love again, I'd wake up one day not wanting to stay in bed, I'd hope again, I'd feel again. I didn't believe him.
After a year I can still hear his voice, still see his smile, still feel his hug. One of the last things my dad ever said to me was to keep going, that I have a bright future. He put my hand on his heart and said wherever I go, he'll be there because our hearts are always connected. So now all I can do is wrap up all that love inside me and keep it going. Live my life for my dad and for my mom and my family and for me. To be the person they raised me to be, and to find the beauty in every single moment. I am a creation of my dad and of my mom. Love lives forever. Death cannot break that bond. We are eternally connected, eternally a family. No matter what, I am forever theirs and they are forever mine. So wherever I go, I bring a little piece of them with me. And when I get lost, as I will, I have the precious memories to guide me back to another day.
It would be really easy for me to just stay in bed all day and cry about our loss. But instead, I'm choosing to wake up, and see the blessings of the day. To let God in and let Him take over. To feel my dad everywhere I go and share this day with him.
(I'll let you know how it goes.)
