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.


Java said...

You write with such depth of emotion. It's good to see you writing and posting. You are in my thoughts, Steven.

r. said...

Every one of us sees death differently. Death seems a huge part of our existence, yet on the flipside it's so remote and surreal.

I hope you and your family are doing alright. A great loss... and it touches everyone.

xo, r

Greg said...

Thank you for sharing your words and your heart, Steven. Been thinking of you often. There is no way to rush through grieving (no healthy way, at least), only Time to soften our pain like pebbles on the seashore.

Ask Dave to give you another hug from me, ok?

john said...

Your family is my prayers.

Don't push the moving on.

You know how to reach me, if you need me.

P.S. I really do want to know how you are really feeling.

Wayne said...

As the saying goes, "time heals all wounds". And it does Steven. Maybe not a month, or a year, but it does. I still miss my dad, and he's been gone 20+ years. You don't "get over it", but you do get "used to it".

Will said...

It's not difficult to offer support to a man who is so open, honest and giving of his emotions and affections, Steven. Bless you and your family.

Vic Mansfield said...

Being real is the best way to be gay. Just be who you are and share what you need.

We will all hold your dad, and you in the Light.