The last few years have seemed to be a real downer for everyone. So, indulge in the whiny and get it out of the way. There are some things we just can’t move on from until we’ve spent some time burning effigies. So, that’s what we’re going to do.
Tell us about a time when you’ve been heartbroken, angry, or even just annoyed. Tell us about something you just can’t seem to let go of or get over. Spread that grievous infection all around, and thin it out. Really lay into it. We’ll all feel better in the long run.
I’ll be honest, my heart kind of sank when I read this prompt. I just wrote about everything I have accomplished in 2013 – really great, fantastic things that anyone would be proud of. But now, one post later, it’s time for me to write about the bad things that happened this past year. And just as amazing as the good things were, the bad things of last year quite frankly sucked really really hard.
Those of you who know me well know what I’m talking about, in terms of the shitty things that happened in my life in 2013. But tonight I’ll write about something that has definitely been on my mind a lot lately, especially this week.
I was chatting on the phone with my sister before I got to blogging tonight and she said, “I can’t believe it’s already been three months since dad passed away.” My God, has it already been that long? It’s seems like such a hazy yesterday when I got the call, drove home to NJ, and went through the motions of the viewing and funeral. But it happened, and it’s become even more real in the last several weeks, when we spent the holidays without him and I found myself sitting at home in his recliner, wishfully thinking that maybe he’ll just come home and walk through the front door…
It’s been especially hard for me this past week for some reason, when I came back to VA. I don’t know if it’s because winter break has ended and I was feeling thoughtful and/or lonely, but that first night in Richmond I found myself writing a depressing Facebook status, followed by a late night phone call to a friend because I couldn’t stop hysterically crying.
It’s just…I just miss him so much. Whether it’s singing karaoke in our basement, watching him care for his fish pond, or even the dumb mundane things like when he would get me oil changes so I didn’t have to wake up early in the morning…it’s those things that you try to remember and treasure so that you don’t forget, and you don’t try to take anything or anyone for granted ever again.
I’ll admit too, I’m a little angry. Angry that he continued to smoke when it was basically killing him. Angry that this addiction took a hold of him to the point where he still needed it even though he couldn’t breathe. I’ll never forget the last time I saw him alive, back in September – it was so scary, seeing him so frail with that oxygen tank. It makes me absolutely despise cigarette smoking, a disgusting habit that killed my father when he still had so much more to offer this world. If it weren’t for those fucking cigarettes, he would still be here. He would have seen me get married, have children, get tenure. But now I’m finding myself trying my hardest to believe that he can watch over us in heaven. Which brings me some comfort and peace, yes, but it’s still hard because I know deep down that it’s not the same.
So this is what I’ve been contending with, these past three months. Days go by when I’m fine and go about my daily routine, but then another day comes where I can’t focus because I’m just too upset, another day comes and I’m angry and hurt at my father’s life choices, another day comes where I just want to hear his voice again. It’s a vicious vicious cycle. And friends have assured me that it gets easier as time goes on, and I believe them, but I also know that I will probably never ever be fully “over it.” As one of my friends who lost her father two years ago has told me, you just never do. And perhaps in another three months time, or longer, I can come to terms with it.