December 24, 2009
Incommunicado
I realize our characteristic holiday madness has gone largely undocumented this past week. It's sad and unfortunate circumstances that have left me incommunicado: My Father passed away Saturday the 19th.
He did have some dislike for snow. . .and he did always desire to have all his friends and family with him for the holidays. . .And he was challenged by a progressive illness. . .And now he's at peace.
I'm preparing to write my final love letters to my Father this evening and figured a little blathering about grief might help get the ideas going. . .
First of all, for me grief seems a dream-like state. I know what the date is today because I was reminded it's Christmas Eve. The past 6 days have felt like one huge dream sequence in which I'm drifting between fond memories to near nightmare. At times, I function superbly and can focus and other times, I'm tired and worthless.
My appetite has suffered the worst. It's a hell of a way to diet. I'm eating but need reminded to do so on occasion. I haven't showered since Tuesday. Yet, the house is clean, arrangements for a proper wake have been made, gifts have been wrapped. . .Strange indeed this gut-wrenching, heart breaking grief.
The worst part by far is acknowledging it is permanent. I know my Father will be the toughest and most vigilant guardian angel ever. But I know my sadness for his physical absence will never entirely leave me. I'm not bitter, and I'm not regret full, and I relish the memories and legacy he's left. . .but there is a piece of me that will never be quite the same. Never. Permanently altered.
I'm a rather stubborn and tough individual. I have been working on my faith. I'm not one to lie catatonic paralyzed by grief. . .but in some small way, I'll be different. Perhaps it's that small little piece of my heart that will be forever broken?
He did have some dislike for snow. . .and he did always desire to have all his friends and family with him for the holidays. . .And he was challenged by a progressive illness. . .And now he's at peace.
I'm preparing to write my final love letters to my Father this evening and figured a little blathering about grief might help get the ideas going. . .
First of all, for me grief seems a dream-like state. I know what the date is today because I was reminded it's Christmas Eve. The past 6 days have felt like one huge dream sequence in which I'm drifting between fond memories to near nightmare. At times, I function superbly and can focus and other times, I'm tired and worthless.
My appetite has suffered the worst. It's a hell of a way to diet. I'm eating but need reminded to do so on occasion. I haven't showered since Tuesday. Yet, the house is clean, arrangements for a proper wake have been made, gifts have been wrapped. . .Strange indeed this gut-wrenching, heart breaking grief.
The worst part by far is acknowledging it is permanent. I know my Father will be the toughest and most vigilant guardian angel ever. But I know my sadness for his physical absence will never entirely leave me. I'm not bitter, and I'm not regret full, and I relish the memories and legacy he's left. . .but there is a piece of me that will never be quite the same. Never. Permanently altered.
I'm a rather stubborn and tough individual. I have been working on my faith. I'm not one to lie catatonic paralyzed by grief. . .but in some small way, I'll be different. Perhaps it's that small little piece of my heart that will be forever broken?
December 23, 2009
December 21, 2009
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