When someone dies, there are no words that will make it better. You appreciate all the prayers and I’m sorry’s and know that other people are thinking about you and hurting too. Often people will also make comments in reference to taking comfort in memories. It sounds logical and I am certain coming from such a genuine place.
Here’s the thing. It’s true, those memories will always be there to share and look back on. Only for me, right now, they don’t really make things any easier. Maybe it’s the stage that I am at in the grieving process or maybe I am just a different breed of person? Of course I want to remember dad, and in some small way I am reminded of him each and every day.
Those memories don’t comfort me though. They make me cry and scream and I get so incredibly sad. On top of the good that comes with them, they are also a constant reminder that he’s not here. That we made our last memory and will have no more. I can’t call him and tell him that I tripped and busted my knee in the garage. We can’t chat about NCIS and how Gibbs lost his mind in the last episode. Celebrity gossip was our favorite. When something big happened it would be a rush to see who called first. I remember when Alex Trebek died, I called dad right away. We spent many nights watching Jeopardy together. That loss was tough.
They say it gets easier but I just don’t see how. It’s been two months and I can’t look at a picture of dad without my chest getting heavy and tears filling my eyes. From the outside it might look like I have my shit together, but on the inside my heart is broken and I am feeling so many different things.
I wish there was a magic answer that someone could give to make the pain go away. Time seems to be the one constant hope given from those who have lost a loved one. Even with that I am hearing it doesn’t lessen the pain, you just find more effective ways to cope with it. Right now that sounds glorious, and I am ready to embrace whatever time can give me.
These last two months have taught me so much about the person I am. They have made me value those people who “show up” for me, even if it means a random check in. They have made me appreciate time and have shown me that it truly is okay to NOT be okay. Grief is scary because it’s incredibly unpredictable. It’s a ride no one wants to be on and one you can’t get off of. I am here for it but, holy crap, sometimes it’s just hard.
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