Issues
It has been a month since my father died.
A lot has surprised me- like how OK I seem to be be with it. I mean, I haven't really freaked out- not yet anyway. I thought I might lose it this past weekend when I was at his house sorting through his stuff, or when we scattered his ashes, but I only cried a couple of times. That was weird, by the way- picking up my dad's ashes from the funeral home. There was my dad- who used to be six feet tall, in something about the size of a shoe box. There I was walking down the street carrying my dad. I was surprised at how heavy his ashes were.
I never understood why people need to see the body for closure until now. I mean on Friday I was standing there talking to him and on Saturday he was dead. For most of my life my dad has lived in a different state than me. I've gone as long as six months without seeing him. So, it just doesn't really feel like he's gone. Not yet anyway. To be honest, sometimes I forget that he's dead. Willa is really enjoying her bath and I think "I should call my dad- he'd really appreciate this." And then I realize- OH. Or, I'm doing a crossword puzzle and I need help with a clue and I think "My dad will know this." And then I remember- OH. I've even gotten that "Hey, I should call my dad I haven't spoken to him in a while" feeling. I've even reached for the phone.
I think maybe out of the blue one day I'll have a moment like that and then I'll finally lose it.
I think part of the reason I feel this way is because his death was so uneventful. He had a long illness, yes, but I guess I've watched too many movies. I thought there would be a "death bed". As in "He's on his death bed". You know, a period where the person lies there unconscious and everyone sits next to the bed waiting. But, he was talking to me and twelve hours later he was dead. And I never actually saw his dead body. So, for all I know he could be off somewhere on a shipwreck expedition. But he's not.
Another issue I have is we never had "the talk". The one where he says all things he wants to say to me. Like, he's proud of me, or he gives me some sage advice. He never really said anything to me.
I thought that maybe this weekend while I was sorting through his stuff I would find an envelope tucked away marked "Torrie" and I would find a letter in it that my dad wrote me saying all the things he never said to me.
My dad was always very tough on me- I thought towards the end he would, I don't know, maybe tell me he was proud of me.
There is no letter.
As times like this often do, this has taught me who my friends are. Most have been great, but there are a few who have totally dropped the ball. It amazes me how some people haven't called or even emailed me. I know it's an awkward uncomfortable situation. I know it's hard to know the right thing to say, but the mature thing, the RIGHT thing to do is make a phone call or send an email. And I hate the excuse "I wanted to give you your space." If you know me at all, I don't care about "space" I just want some support.
As difficult as the past few months have been- dealing with all of this while trying to take care of a new baby- Willa has been a wonderful distraction. If it wasn't for her I probably wouldn't be getting out of bed these days. And as sad/upset/confused as I may be I can't help but be happy when she smiles at me.
It's too bad she has to go to sleep at night because that's when I stop being distracted and the bad dreams come.
Comments
Baby, baby, please let me hold him
I wanna make him stay up all night
She's a beautiful distraction.
I'm sorry there's no letter. He was your father to the end, eh? Big picture now -- if he had gone out of character, would you really feel better now? Would it have made things too foreign or uncomfortable before his death?
Love and hugs
Posted by: mrtl | September 23, 2007 11:11 PM
It's always so hard to know what to say to someone when they have lost a parent. I can only say I am so very sorry that your time with him ended so abruptly. I am so glad you have beautiful, wonderful Willa, and so glad that he was able to see her before he died.
Hugs to you & your family.
M
Posted by: MG | September 23, 2007 11:43 PM
Not to say anything too deep about the renewal of the life cycle or God knows what, I'm really, really glad you have your Willa to focus on right now. Hugs.
Posted by: Schnozz | September 24, 2007 01:59 AM
I don't know how much I can say, but I thought this (http://tinyurl.com/33n8af) post was beautiful, and might say more to you right now than I could.
*HUGS*
Posted by: Ern | September 24, 2007 02:07 AM
Torrie, what a wonderful post. I recently lost my dad too, and I absolutely understand what you mean. You're doing great.
Posted by: Catherine | September 24, 2007 07:54 AM
I understand the need for closure. Seeing the body can help for some.
I'm sorry you have to do this. I do believe, however, that your dad did love you and cared about you and was proud. It is just that for some people, they can't find the words to say it.
Posted by: SJ/The Simple Family | September 24, 2007 09:22 AM
I can only imagine the sadness you are experiencing. I know that feeling you have had when you have that feeling of wanting to call someone, or tell them something or share a thought, and then you are slammed with the reality of their absence from this world. I still have that three years after the death of my grandmother. I still have her phone number in my cell phone to this day because I cannot bring myself to delete it, as though keeping it there will somehow leave that tether between the two of us. I know that the number is long disconnected and given to someone else, but I just can't delete it. It is amazing the things your mind does to ease the pain.
Thank goodness for Willa... she is a real godsend and I am sure your father is grateful that she's been there to make this a little bit easier on you... Stay strong, Torrie girl!
Posted by: Snickrsnack Katie | September 24, 2007 10:16 AM
I have an idea of how you feel. My dad died about 8 years ago and at that time we lived 5 hours away from each other. We saw each other about twice a year and phoned/emailed infrequently.
It took me a long time to really GET it. It felt like we were just not calling. I didn't get a letter either and have learned a few things from 'long lost' relatives in the past year. I did get a box though, full of photos from our trips together and a coaster I made him in grade 3.
Posted by: Tiana | September 24, 2007 10:36 AM
You write my thoughts. Saturday was six months since my Mom passed. I think of her everyday and cry often too, but I think about a week ago it really hit me. She is gone.
I know what you mean about your daughter, I feel the same way about mine. She is the sunshine of my life....someone knew what they were doing when they sent her to me.
I still reach for the phone too.I'll let you know if/when that stops.
Hang in there. and know that you are not alone.
Posted by: londak | September 24, 2007 10:40 AM
If there is one thing I have learned, it's that you can't get closure from anyone else. It has to come from inside you. That's really hard. Those baby smiles are truly amazing though, aren't they?
Posted by: Moshizzle | September 24, 2007 01:10 PM
Distractions such as that are a beautiful thing.
I just kept nodding through your entire post. You expressed it all so well. The OH feeling. Yes. I so get that. Even six months later sometimes I am like OH. Right. Can't call. Can't email. Just can't.
I also never had the deathbed, the sage advice or the long lost letter of how to live the rest of my life without my compass.
I don't know how this comment will help you in the least except maybe you will see that in five or six months, you will still be breathing. Still living your life and doing your everyday things.
I won't say it gets easier because I am not truly sure that it does.
But I'm here.
Posted by: southernfriedgirl | September 24, 2007 01:26 PM
Since losing my brother, I have become the worst enemy for people looking for a way to 'get away' from someone who is grieving.
"I want to give her some space."
"I don't want to make her think about it."
"I don't know what to say."
Like you said, support is more important than 'space'.
Think about it? I think about him every day. Say his name, remind me that other people miss him too.
You don't have to say anything except, "I don't know what to say." Grieving people get comfort from that. The people who 'didn't know what to say' are no longer part of my life.
Posted by: angela marie | September 24, 2007 01:34 PM
This hits home and I haven't lost my dad. As I type this I'm sitting in my living room with Zoe and he is getting his radiation treatment. So hard. But I know that losing your dad is even harder. Sending hugs and support from California to you.
Posted by: Keely | September 24, 2007 02:22 PM
Hugs to you. I am learning from you that grief is not linear but has peaks and valleys and will hit you when you least expect it. I've always been told that you have to get into it to get through it (sage therapy advice) so don't be afraid to ask for the support you need to do that. I soooo understand how disappointed you are with certain people. The same happened to me with my cancer diagnosis-never heard from friends again after I told them. But the ones who stood by me helped so much. Hang in there.
Posted by: Von Krankipantzen | September 24, 2007 02:56 PM