I miss you Dad

I miss you today Dad. I miss you every day but today it’s heavy on my soul. I wish you were here to talk to. I wish I could Skype with you. I’ve grown so much over the past year. I’m so much tougher than I was and I know you’d be so proud. I love my husband so much more than ever before and I know you’d be proud. You taught me how to love, how to weather the tough times. I wish so desperately you were here. I no longer am angry that you aren’t here with me, I’ve accepted that you aren’t here…but it’s still hard. The way you laughed with me, the silliness we shared together. I thought I would never have that again with anyone else, but my husband has shown me that I can be as silly as I want to be. I can be as wild as I need to be. I can spin in circles with my arms wide in an embrace of the Universe’s energy and he’ll accept that. I was afraid for a long time that without you I would never have that unconditional love that you gave me. But, Dad, I have that…I just had to look at the man next to me to see that. We had to fight and argue. I called him selfish for not letting me grieve for you. He countered that HE was still here and that all I had to do was let him in, let him share in my grief. After that moment, my soul settled and I realized I wasn’t being fair to him. I thought I was an open book for him but I realized I was keeping my grief like a shroud around me. I didn’t know how to let him into the journey I was taking. I had to sit with all my thoughts and emotions. I had to process his words. I had to see his sadness at feeling helpless and isolated by me. Once I realized that I was causing myself more grief by not sharing, everything opened up to me and I felt my soul repairing itself. I felt the grief lift day by day. Now I can think of you and not cry for what I had, but be happy for what I have now. I’m happy again Dad and I hope you can see that. I still wish you were here every day but now I am fully opened up to my husband. I was arrogant in my thinking before, arrogant and a bit scared in thinking he wouldn’t accept the side of me that I only showed you. I’m not sure if I would have come to this place with him if you hadn’t passed away.

I always tell people that everything happens for a reason. We may not be able to see the reason while we’re deep in the situation but gradually, with the passage of time, we are able to understand the reason. While I still feel it was too soon for you to leave me, I know why you did now. Thank you Dad. I love you.

Grief

This has not been a good year. I haven’t had the heart to write about everything and even now, I’m not sure where I will go with this post. I’m on a plane to California.  The ridiculousness of my life now makes me giggle. Who would have imagined 5 years ago that my life would be such as it is now? Seriously, when I take stock of it, I’m stunned at where I’m at. My life is rich with love and full of amazing experiences – both big and small. I have conversations about where in the world we want to visit, we talk about running a business together, baling hay, birthing calves, and building a house. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever have conversations like ours.  I love the fullness of my life so much and I miss my father more than anything. Dad has been dead almost 4 months and I’m not certain I’ve actually dealt with it yet. How stupid is that term though, “dealt with it”? How do you ever come to grips with losing the most influential and important person in your life? I don’t think you do, I think you just compartmentalize the pain, you put it away in a dark closet and try not to shine a light on it. But just like the monster under the bed, grief comes crawling out of the dark and engulfs you when you least expect it.

Part of my struggle is that my life is so fantastic and I don’t have any one that I can really share it with. I always knew I could call Dad and say, “Oh my God! We’re flying to California for a long weekend” and he would be as equally excited as I was. He was that person that I could call and tell all about my life and know that I was never being judged and there was no jealousy, just happiness at how good things turned out. Happiness because he, like me, was so thankful and grateful. He was grateful for my life, grateful that I found a person who loves me, and that I finally have what he and mom had.

Taking this trip is one of the many “firsts” that I’ve done since he died. I have had my first birthday without him, my first mother’s day without him, my daughter’s first birthday, a fishing trip, a calf born, bought a motor home, and now, taking a trip. All these things are events that I would call and tell him about. I would text him pictures and he would be so excited and thrilled. It was as if he was my constant companion on the adventures of my life. I always thought “I can’t wait to tell Dad about this”. Not being able to do that creates this teeny fissure in me and I feel as if there’s a black space. Picture a jig saw puzzle with one piece missing – that’s how I see myself now.  My brain is a circus and I understand that completely, so did Dad because his was just like mine. Sometimes we didn’t even talk in complete sentences but we knew exactly what we were talking about – I don’t have that with anyone else. In fact, most people just get frustrated with me because sometimes I’m completely scattered. Dad just got it, he knew what I was trying to say when I was a stuttering, bumbling fool. He understood why I cry when I’m happy. He was so very happy for me.

The strangest thing about feeling this way is that it does create a sense of gratefulness in me. I’m grateful that I had such an amazing father and I know that his spirit will always stay with me. I’m even more grafeul for this amazing life I have because I realize that it can be stripped away so quickly. I appreciate everything more than I have before.

But..I miss him so much..