Healing

So many things to write about...so many confusing thoughts.  It's overwhelming on a daily basis.  I don't see the simple beauty, I'm not looking.  I've been back to work for 2 weeks...and I'm done.  Although, it's a good distraction and everyone has been so awesome, I'm done.  I always feel like I have to put on a happy face and that my wallowing time is over.  As if the sentiment is "OK, you've had your time, it's over now.  Move on."  And I can't....I simply can't.  Dad is everywhere and yet he's NOT THERE.

I physically hurt.  My chest constricts, breathing seems difficult.  This happens many times during the day.  And I always feel like I'm on the verge of tears.  It sucks....it fucking sucks.  Losing a grandparent is one thing....but losing a parent.  Nothing compares.  Nothing comforts.  Nothing can prepare a person for the hurt, the loss, the sense of emptiness, a feeling of being incomplete and the CONSTANT wish for more time, the CONSTANT looking back and wishing you could have said more, done more.

I hate it.....this whole process fucking stinks. And what I can't get out of my head is the image of my father's soulless body laying in the hospital bed.  Proof that he won't be coming back.  And I'm waiting for my head to heal, for my memory to replace that image with Dad playing with the boys, painting, having coffee on the deck, enjoying the sun on the porch swing.  And yet, those images hurt too, knowing I won't see them any more.  The most devastating image is Zac looking for his Opa on the couch...

I cry daily...I'm severely dehydrated.  I should drink more water.

And yet, I am healing.  I ask myself all the time, what would Dad do.  And I am trying to find humour...and I'm trying to laugh.  There have been funny things.  Like the call Mom got on the morning of Dad's gathering from the heart monitor people in Peterborough saying that they haven't been able to get a reading for the past week.....well duh!  Followed by the Purolator person delivering a package and requiring a signature from Dad....funny.

I try to let myself relax and enjoy conversations.  I'm so very appreciative of my friends and the staff at school.  They have all been wonderful.  I have a better understanding of what others have gone through before me, younger staff members losing younger fathers/mothers.  I am so grateful for their support and understanding.  I'm lucky to have this extended 'family'.  The best indicator that healing is happening is laughing so hard it hurts.  I have my friend Sara to thank for that one.  Her regaling a story from the weekend about a body scrub, a plastic sheet and only 2 face cloths....that was some funny stuff!  She too lost her Dad a few years ago...I guess we all just need time.

But it all still fucking sucks.  Still so many thoughts that I will struggle with and that I will struggle with alone.

I miss my tangible Dad.  Someone I could hug....someone I could hear, the small nuances of his language, his hands the way he would hold a paintbrush or squeeze my shoulder.  The smell of Old Spice.  I miss him.....