Thursday, July 30, 2009

Until we meet again

Three hours, it has been three hours since you died and it feels unreal. I will never forget those words "Steve, Dad died this afternoon". I knew something was wrong when I drove into the yard and my aunt was there late in the day, my sister came out to meet me and told me the bad news. I cried, I cried hard, I cried for many reasons, that he was gone, that he would no longer suffer, that I just went away for one day and missed his final moments, that Mom would now be alone.

One day, it has been one day Dad and I miss you so much already. There is this huge hole in our lives left by your passing, I can't help think all day, "this time yesterday he was alive, if only I had been a little quicker, by this time he was dying, by this time he was dead, 24 hours I guess there is no turning back now".

One week, it has been one week Dad, has it been one week already? I guess with so much to do for the wake and funeral time slipped by, it only feels like three days. Everyone is gone now, they want to give us time alone. Alone is how we feel, we are suppose to try to return back to normal but normal can't happen without you you here.

Two weeks, two weeks seems so fast. Time slowed down when you were so ill, I'm glad for that as it makes us feel we had a year with you instead of only weeks. We hoped time would slow down, the end of a month meant a large part of your life had passed, but we could not stop time, it advanced like the cancer. Strange thinking of how I am mowing the grass this week when two weeks ago you lay dying at this time. From such a tragic event for the family to something so mundane as cutting the grass. I think I'm doing okay until I dream of you one night, hearing your voice and seeing your expressions that only my Dad could have made, gave me the feeling you were with me again. Waking up and remembering that you were gone however, had me fall into that deep empty space left by your passing and I sobbed as if you had just passed away again. Mom really misses you now Dad, she had time to think about what her life will be like without you here, she feels it is getting worse. I think her old school thinking of not showing emotion has caught up with her, she needs to grieve and forget about that strong appearance in front of others garbage.

Week three, the dreams about you don't upset me anymore, I think they were part of some mental healing and they stopped coming. Dave came to see me that day and in the excitement, I forgot it had been three weeks. I remembered in the afternoon and felt a little guilty. I know you would not want that however, you would want us to heal and move on, you told us so many times before you left, it made me love the person you were even more in your final days. You wanted to make this simple for us but there is so much paper work to your passing Dad, you would be shaking your head if you were here to see this. I was out with Dave the other day and forgot myself and said "wait until I show Dad these pictures, he will get a kick out of this" then it hit me pretty fast, the emptyness, the loss.

One month, it has been one month today Dad. It feels like only last week, very unreal. Time waits for no one, both you and Mom always said that and you were correct, everything keeps moving in the rest of the world, it never stopped like we felt it should. We wondered this morning what happened when you died, did you see a light, did you see Granny or did things just go dark. Mom wishes you could let her know you are doing fine where ever you are. We thought we would feel you at your farm but we don't, just the opposite, we feel the farm 'without you' as if waiting for your return. I heard something that I feel is true from someone who lost a family member, she told us "you don't forget them or forget they are gone, you just get used to it". I still can't believe we are at the one month mark, soon it will be the first birthday without you, then Christmas and then the next thing it will have been one year. Everyone says it gets a little better after one year when most of the 'firsts' are out of the way, I will judge that for myself.

I will switch this blog back to 'being gay' issues from now on Dad but it has nothing to do with not missing you, because I really do like I have never missed a person before. If there is life after death I hope you are really happy where ever you are and I hope we all get to be together someday, until we meet again Dad.

Thank you again everyone for the words of support.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

I should say...

I should say "I'm doing okay" but I can't, that would just not be true. People ask, "how are you holding up" but they don't want a real answer, they want me (us) to say that we are doing fine, that life is roses again. This crap hurts and it hurts deep, I just can't write at this moment, and it is not from having little to say, more like having too much to say and a flood of thoughts and emotions jam into my fingers to get to the keyboard first. Yes I show a strong face to the world and no I'm not losing my marbles, I'm just really sad right now.

Probably a good time to mention how I appreciated the very kind and thoughtful comments over these last months, they really do help to know people care or at least understand how I feel (Catrina, sorry for the loss of your mother, you were correct, nothing prepares a person for the sorrow when you actually lose someone). I do often wonder what all of you have been up to. Birdie (my sweetie pie), you don't have to check for the rest of the week now, I'm not going to be near my computer!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

When the dance ends.

Nearly fifty years ago, a handsome young farmer with a sheepish smile and wavy hair asked a shy young woman to dance. They later fell in love, married and kept on dancing through life together. Last week however that dance came to an end, my Dad passed away. I never got the chance to say what I was building myself up to say, I was in town when I wrote the last post and when I returned home, he had just passed away two hours before I got there. I struggled with this for days, I had been with him since March and the minute I left, he passed. The first week I kept waking up in the night with the weight of knowing I will never see him again, plus the things I wanted to say to him that I never did or could not. I would be overcome with a feeling of being smothered or as if drowning. I spoke to my mother about it and since telling her, the feeling has not returned.

My Dad was very much a people person, he was not loud or did not seek attention, yet he had no problem with meeting people any place he would go. I envied that ability, I am the opposite, I find it hard to meet someone or even to talk to people that I do not know very well. The result was a beautiful service, people had to stand outside of the church since there was such a crowd and Dave said that was a tribute to the person he was. I felt I needed to give the eulogy, my family thought someone else should do it, they only know me as this shy quiet person and were afraid I would get up and cry or worse, pass out. I knew I could write one, I felt that other people did not know Dad as we knew him, I think having the blog to express my feelings gave me the courage and confidence to do it. Since I was not there as my mother and sister were to comfort him in his last hour, this was the best way to say good bye to him. It went well, some of the people who are really close to us, said it gave them chills with how it stirred images of my father in their minds, those kind comments have helped me over these last few days.

She cries at night, my mother that is and it breaks my heart whenever I hear her. Mom was raised that emotions are a private matter and must not be shared or shown, she holds strong for us during the day and in fact mom never cries. I never saw my mother really cry other than a few tears in her eyes until now, however at night I hear her soft sobs over the loss of Dad, her partner in life who has left her alone.

We will get through this, other people had to, it takes time I know. It feels like everything is just sitting there waiting for him, his tools, his old truck and his farm but he is not coming back, the dance has ended. Love you Dad, miss you....forever.