After dad died on September 4 I cried. I cried a lot; my body hurt and my mind swelled and headaches were many and long. I found it helped to cry, as if to relieve pressure from my overburdened brain. I got back to work and cried easily when someone mentioned loss, or when I saw someone much older than dad walking slowly. I wished it could’ve been dad, growing old, walking slowly. I cried when I heard a girl call out “Papa, watch me!”. I thought of all the grandsons and the one granddaughter, growing up without their Papa. I thought especially of Thomas who was too young to remember, and of Lily because she’d been raised by my folks since December of 2010. I thought of my mom who is now a single mom to a pre-school girl. It seemed the tears came easy and I began to embrace them. I wouldn’t indulge them by thinking bad thoughts but I let the tears, and the memories come. I decided that because God had made me, and made me to love my father, then HE must have made me to cry as well. And he tells us he gathers up all our tears. I cried in the shower and on the way to work. I would cry thinking of mom, doing this all alone after being with him since she was 14. I thought of my brothers, still wandering the earth lost.I thought of my sister who did EVERYTHING to keep dad alive. I cried, I embraced the tears as they let pressure go and healing in. I cried in front of the boys and my husband, cried in front of co-workers and strangers. It was just a part of who I was. I didn’t dwell on it, I didn’t make a point to conjure up images to make myself cry, but I didn’t fight it when it came on it’s own.
This grief has done a few things in my heart. I find myself more quiet, less wanting small talk or even to talk at all. That was hard while working. I was also somewhat impatient with stupid stuff. Grown people acting like crazy, hormonal teenagers. I did my best in my responses but sometimes my frustration reached the front. This took me a few months to get through and by February of this year I felt like being social, like being nice, again. Scott told me I could quit work because things were going well with him at work. I had planned to give my notice after a co-worker returned from her medical leave, but then things changed. One phone call, one night, it all changed…….
To be Continued.