One Year....

 When I was seven years old my parents dropped a bomb on me that absolutely shook my world....they were getting a divorce. I remember feeling like my life would never be normal again, like the ground beneath me was crumbling, but most of all....grief. When you're seven your universe is pretty limited: parents, friends, pets, and maybe some extended family. I was very fortunate to have a large extended family, a beautiful home, a huge protective dog, and two parents that made the effort to be home for dinner at night. With four simple words, all of that disappeared, and in the years to follow, I had a new home, more family, different pets, and new dinner traditions. 

One year ago, February 25, 2022, my world shook again with three not so simple words..."Your dad died". Depending on your source, there are five, seven, or twelve stages of grief. I went through all of them in a matter of minutes. The last time I cried like that and went through those grief stages, I was seven....I was losing my dad all over again but this time it was permanent. I didn't know what to do, who to call, and mostly...how to feel. There was the obvious sadness but the most real emotions were shock and denial. I immediately dropped to my knees, balled my hands into fists, and pounded on my thighs while screaming the word "NO" over and over. Once I composed myself, I got into my car, and I drove home. I don't remember driving and I definitely remember nothing that followed...until the next day when I proceeded to get stupidly drunk with some friends. I don't even know if I told anyone what happened. I totally, and completely, detached from reality and everyone that I cared about. 

Over the past year I've tried to reconcile the loss of my father into my life and move toward healing. It's been, without a doubt, one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I've moved through all of the grief stages several times over and just when I start to feel acceptance, a big old brick hits me square between the eyes. Today is one of those bricks....headache, puffy eyes, and the complete inability to turn my mouth upward. My chest is heavy and my brain is foggy. Grief is a righteous cunt that needs to fuck off, but like most righteous cunts, it keeps hanging on. 

I miss my dad so much it hurts my heart to hear his name or see his picture. Those stupid Facebook memories are a total mind fuck....his comments, likes, etc..show up without warning and never cease to destroy me for a few minutes, hours, or even days. Nothing could have prepared me for this loss and I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I'd give anything to hear his voice again, or see him smile, or have him hug me. I'm waiting for the ever-present pain of grief to give rise to a renewed sense of meaning and purpose. I know these feelings of grief will never completely disappear; they will soften and become less frequent. New hope will emerge as I become able to make commitments to the future while recognising that my dad will NEVER be forgotten and knowing that my life can and will move forward. They say knowing is half the battle...the other half of the battle is time. Everything in time....