Apparently I’m not grieving properly . . . not too certain what that is suppose to mean.
I don’t know how to take that. So I’m not out wrecking my life by drinking too much or doing too many drugs, or I’m not shutting the world off and letting no one in, I’m simply not allowing myself to fall to pieces and pretend that my life is over too. My Dad wouldn’t want me to.
The fact that the statement was made by people close to me and persons I respect, irritates the hell out of me. Not everyone has a mental breakdown when a parent or loved one dies. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t love my Dad, or love my Dad. It simply means I’m not letting this interfere with the life that he was proud of.
I’m not a highly emotional person. I like to keep things to myself and handle them within or with poor, sick humor. Last Sunday, the day after, I lost it in church. That was the first moment I really was able to grasp what happened. They don’t give you time to grieve when you are responsible for everything. And I’m not too sure I want to sit and think about it to be honest. It scares me knowing that I am never going to see my Dad again, have a conversation with him, share overly sarcastic jokes and comments or watch a baseball game with him. I thought I made peace with it all last week by finally telling myself HE IS DYING. I think it helped, but it didn’t help. I know he was in so much pain and I have to remind myself that he isn’t anymore and that is important.
My prayer this whole time has been for God to just help him, not heal him, not rid him of his pain. Healing him would only mean that the cancer could eventually come back and ridding him of his pain could mean that it’s only temporary. I’ve been through the nasty cancer thing before, the second time around you have to make peace and accept the truth. But now there is no pain, only in my heart, but he’s in a better place and with my Grandpa, his best friend!
So . . . I don’t really have a nice response to the ones who said I’m not grieving properly. Because I am grieving. I’m just not letting grief define me. I have my moments. Everyday when I go to call him or email him, when I start thinking of when I’m going to head up to D.C. to see him, when I have a question that I know he can answer. I’ll never hear him call me “bug” anymore and hear him tell me “no really, I found you under a rock, your my bug!”. I’ll never have him there for a lifetime of firsts and big moments that haven’t occurred yet.
But it is a day by day process, I’m holding tight to what I believe in and just reminding myself that there is good in this and a reason and he is now in a healthy and healed body and out of pain.