A little glimpse at grieving . . .

So I want to keep it real as I blog because this is honestly, in large part, my journal. And although I want that frankness, I really don't want to whine all the time.  What is the point?  But, I also value truthfulness and am more than happy to share my experience with others.

Here is where I stand on grieving over my dad.  Most of the time, I can live normal, happy life.  I laugh with my kids, eat too much food, and hang out with my husband.  About thirty times a day I will see, think of, or hear something that reminds me of my dad and it totally grabs at my heart.  Most of the time, I don't dwell on it because it's too raw to.  So, I think about it briefly, say to myself "I can't believe this is real" and then get going with the rest of the day.  Once daily I can't push it away and I have to reflect on it for awhile.  Sometimes, I conjure up all the memories of him I can.  Other times I make myself relive the last time I saw him healthy.  Other times I think about him when he was sick.  On really tough moments I think of him actually dying or lying so handsome in his casket.  I understand I have to feel these emotions too and not just sweep them away.  Every couple days I just have to weep over it.  Most of the time it is after I put the kids to bed.  Holding Claire as I walk her across her room or talking to Hallie about grandpa and heaven really get to me.  On those days I can't do much better than to just cry for a good couple minutes.  Most of the time it is done at the computer because then I can look at pictures of my dad at the same time.  Thankfully, all the time it is with my husband next to me to say "I'm so sorry."

  

Dad and Claire in February of this year . . .the last time I saw him "healthy." 

I like the words of a Shania Twain song that says "It only hurts when I'm breathing . . . My heart only aches when it's beating . . ."  A little dramatic for sure, but even in the all the good, regular life moments it is always present somewhere in my consciousness "Dad  . . . Dad's gone."

That being said, let me emphasize the fact that my dad feels very much alive to me.  That part is easy to comprehend.  He is still a vibrant, honorable, fun soul hard at work for our Father in Heaven.  I know that.  It's just the waiting part . . . to think that I won't hug him again until I am in heaven with him is what makes that big sore lump in my throat that feels impossible to swallow.

I do know this was the Lords' will.  This was my dad's time.  I just get a little selfish that other people have their dads for double the time I had mine.  But then I feel grateful.  I have friends who lost their mother when they were in elementary school.  I have friends who flat out had lousy dads that weren't even there for them.  I had the best dad in the world for me.  A dad that was always present.  He spent as much time as possible with us and made that time count.  And remembering that goes a long way to take the sting away for a bit.

                                            
 Dad and my little self in 1982 . . . I'm so grateful I had him all those years.