I woke up close to two hours ago (it's now 4:49am) with the heavy thought of what today brings. This day, six years ago, my dad was unexpectedly taken from us. We had no warning. No chance to prepare. No opportunity to say our goodbyes. He was just...gone.
This thought still crushes my heart when I allow myself a moment to stop my busy-work and let my mind wander. Six years later and the pain isn't as sharp or raw but it's still my constant, silent companion. Sitting in wait for me to breathe before it punches me all over again.
Sometimes I choose to look at the horribleness of it all with a perspective of hope. In those moments, instead of saying he's been gone for six years I choose to say we're six years closer to our reunion. Those are the moments I give deep, heartfelt, tear-filled thanks to God for even allowing me to have him in my life for any period of time. Thanks for the wonderful father he was for me and the foundation of love he gave me.
Sometimes I choose to look at the horribleness of it all with a perspective of injustice. In those moments, instead of saying we're six years closer to our reunion I choose to say he was taken from me six years ago. Those are the moments I give deep, heartfelt, tear-filled rantings to God for how unfair it is that He took him from my kids, my mom, and me. Rantings that He stole memories from us that we weren't ever given the opportunity to make.
I'm not really sure my perspective today. I feel kind of lost and in a bit of a spin this morning. I want to honor him today somehow, but I can't think of what I want to do to honor him. My logical brain side tells me that I honor him every day by working hard and loving my kids and husband. That's what my dad would want me to do. But something just doesn't feel like that's enough today. I want to do something today that I don't normally do to stop and honor him. I have a little more than 18 hours to figure it out. If anyone actually reads this and has any ideas for me, please share them with me.
Feels odd to be ending a post without a concluding paragraph but I really don't have one. I just have a request for any ideas to honor him today.
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Friday, March 30, 2018
April Fool's and Easter
This year Easter and April Fool's Day fall on the same Sunday. My dad made both days good for my sister and I as children. For Easter, we would each get an Easter basket and they would dress up in a pretty dress and hat to wear to church. For April Fool's Day, my dad being the prankster that he was, would find ways to play jokes on us.
Yesterday one of our employees asked me if I do anything to my children for April Fool's. I told them of how my dad one year put shaving cream in our shoes and told my sister and I that we were going to have a race to see who could put their shoes on the fastest. We got toes full of his Barbasol shaving cream.
I followed in the tradition by pranking my own children and will probably do so again this year. We've moved them while they slept before. I've put things in their shoes and switched cereals from the boxes. I'll have to think of something good this year...in honor of my dad, of course. :)
While I miss him deeply still, it doesn't hurt as badly as it used to. I've had some breakdowns in my closet when no one watches, but they aren't nearly as often as they were before. I don't think I should feel bad for not being a wretched mess still. I don't think it means my love is less. But I do think it means I'm healing and I've accepted he's gone. I still think of him daily. I still wish I could ask him for advice. I still wish I could be swallowed up in his hug. Yes, I still miss him very deeply. But I'm surviving and growing and healing. I think he would be okay with that.
And thankfully, Easter is a good reminder that I will see him again one day. Because Christ rose from the dead, where I place my hope is a sure thing. Where my dad placed his hope is a sure thing. And I'm getting closer to seeing him every day that passes.
Yesterday one of our employees asked me if I do anything to my children for April Fool's. I told them of how my dad one year put shaving cream in our shoes and told my sister and I that we were going to have a race to see who could put their shoes on the fastest. We got toes full of his Barbasol shaving cream.
I followed in the tradition by pranking my own children and will probably do so again this year. We've moved them while they slept before. I've put things in their shoes and switched cereals from the boxes. I'll have to think of something good this year...in honor of my dad, of course. :)
While I miss him deeply still, it doesn't hurt as badly as it used to. I've had some breakdowns in my closet when no one watches, but they aren't nearly as often as they were before. I don't think I should feel bad for not being a wretched mess still. I don't think it means my love is less. But I do think it means I'm healing and I've accepted he's gone. I still think of him daily. I still wish I could ask him for advice. I still wish I could be swallowed up in his hug. Yes, I still miss him very deeply. But I'm surviving and growing and healing. I think he would be okay with that.
And thankfully, Easter is a good reminder that I will see him again one day. Because Christ rose from the dead, where I place my hope is a sure thing. Where my dad placed his hope is a sure thing. And I'm getting closer to seeing him every day that passes.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Happy Birthday Dad
Today my dad would have been 59 years old. I woke up thinking about him and wishing he were here. I regretted not showing him more just how much I loved him. But then a thought crossed my mind...he knows because he's seen me grieve.
Tonight my mom is coming over for dinner and birthday cake. I can't imagine how much pain this day might bring her or the struggle she goes through every day waking up without him. She has been much stronger than I could've imagined she would be.
I really don't have much else to say right now. I just wanted to acknowledge his birthday.
I miss you and love you with all the pieces of my still shattered heart, Dad. Happy Birthday.
Tonight my mom is coming over for dinner and birthday cake. I can't imagine how much pain this day might bring her or the struggle she goes through every day waking up without him. She has been much stronger than I could've imagined she would be.
I really don't have much else to say right now. I just wanted to acknowledge his birthday.
I miss you and love you with all the pieces of my still shattered heart, Dad. Happy Birthday.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
A Man Who Loved Politics
I first got a glimpse of how much my father loved politics when I was 13 years old. We just moved from California to Oregon and it was 1993. Oregon was in the middle of a huge battle between environmentalists who fought for the homes of spotted owls and loggers who fought to put food on the table by doing their jobs. I remember one day we were in our hotel room and the news came on with pictures of these adorable owls. I made a comment about how sad it was for them and boy, oh boy did I hear it from my dad. He called me a "tree hugger" and let me know just how wrong I was to be more concerned over the owls than I was over the humans trying to do their jobs.
I don't think he intended to come across so harsh, although at the time it really hurt my feelings. What I would come to learn over time was that my dad was very passionate about politics all the way up until his passing. My parents lived in Washington at the end of his life and he took seriously his role in the caucus process. My dad was a very firm conservative both fiscally and socially. He loved watching Fox News and at times would yell at the tv. My sister, who once followed in his Republican footsteps, became his complete opposite as she got older. This would be a source of much tension between the two. I imagine they both thought the other was completely stupid and ignorant to the real world issues. As for me, I also became conservative and was never involved in any political disputes with my dad (with the exception of the incident in 1993). If there was anything that I was more purple than red on, I just kept it to myself and didn't bother with all the debating.
So here we are in an Election year. And I'm watching Fox News (probably too much) and I'm finding myself wanting to yell at the tv. I think if he were here, he would be flabbergasted. Those who are registered "Republican" have me completely pissed off. Donald Trump. REALLY??!! And Ted Cruz?! Come on people! Wake up! Neither of these two would make a good president. Trump is full of hate and completely lacks substance. Cruz is full of lies and such a phony. How are people being fooled by them? Considering I'm a conservative living in a blue state, my vote doesn't actually count or have any weight in all this. So I sit feeling helpless that our country has taken an extreme turn for the worse. At least I won't have to violate my conscience by voting for either of these men, Hillary, or Bernie. I can write in a name and it won't make any difference to the results.
My vote will go for Marco Rubio. Although he's really screwed things up for himself, where he stands on issues is more in line with where I stand on them. But who would my dad vote for if he were here? I'm guessing that at first he would've boarded that Trump Train because the contrarian in me comes from him. But then I'm guessing he'd smarten up and realize Trump isn't saying anything specific or of value and I'm guessing he'd switch to someone who actually IS conservative.
This whole joke of an election has me so frustrated that last night I resorted to eating chocolate and drinking a glass of wine (which I HATE wine) in order to chill out a bit as I watched Trump win more states. I think from the viewpoint my dad now has, he would tell me I need to change my focus and that I'm showing distrust in God when I allow myself to get worked up over the things of this world. I think he would say there is a bigger picture to look at and the King is still on His throne. No matter how wonky this world gets, what happens here is not the end. I have a future to look forward to with my Heavenly Father that will always outshine whatever future this earth can bring.
I don't think he intended to come across so harsh, although at the time it really hurt my feelings. What I would come to learn over time was that my dad was very passionate about politics all the way up until his passing. My parents lived in Washington at the end of his life and he took seriously his role in the caucus process. My dad was a very firm conservative both fiscally and socially. He loved watching Fox News and at times would yell at the tv. My sister, who once followed in his Republican footsteps, became his complete opposite as she got older. This would be a source of much tension between the two. I imagine they both thought the other was completely stupid and ignorant to the real world issues. As for me, I also became conservative and was never involved in any political disputes with my dad (with the exception of the incident in 1993). If there was anything that I was more purple than red on, I just kept it to myself and didn't bother with all the debating.
So here we are in an Election year. And I'm watching Fox News (probably too much) and I'm finding myself wanting to yell at the tv. I think if he were here, he would be flabbergasted. Those who are registered "Republican" have me completely pissed off. Donald Trump. REALLY??!! And Ted Cruz?! Come on people! Wake up! Neither of these two would make a good president. Trump is full of hate and completely lacks substance. Cruz is full of lies and such a phony. How are people being fooled by them? Considering I'm a conservative living in a blue state, my vote doesn't actually count or have any weight in all this. So I sit feeling helpless that our country has taken an extreme turn for the worse. At least I won't have to violate my conscience by voting for either of these men, Hillary, or Bernie. I can write in a name and it won't make any difference to the results.
My vote will go for Marco Rubio. Although he's really screwed things up for himself, where he stands on issues is more in line with where I stand on them. But who would my dad vote for if he were here? I'm guessing that at first he would've boarded that Trump Train because the contrarian in me comes from him. But then I'm guessing he'd smarten up and realize Trump isn't saying anything specific or of value and I'm guessing he'd switch to someone who actually IS conservative.
This whole joke of an election has me so frustrated that last night I resorted to eating chocolate and drinking a glass of wine (which I HATE wine) in order to chill out a bit as I watched Trump win more states. I think from the viewpoint my dad now has, he would tell me I need to change my focus and that I'm showing distrust in God when I allow myself to get worked up over the things of this world. I think he would say there is a bigger picture to look at and the King is still on His throne. No matter how wonky this world gets, what happens here is not the end. I have a future to look forward to with my Heavenly Father that will always outshine whatever future this earth can bring.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Holiday Survival
This morning the bright sun woke me up and I felt an immediate sense of relief. The first thoughts that crossed my mind were, "It's over. I did it. I survived another Christmas. Oh thank God it's over!" There is so much joy for me in those thoughts. So much relief. The holidays are finally over (with the exception of New Years) and I don't have to deal with them for another 10-11 months.
A heaviness settles over my heart from November through December as any celebrations are tainted by the sorrow deep within. I used to love the holidays and looked forward to them. Now, I look forward to them being over. I put them out of my mind as best as I can and fill my thoughts with work, work, work. This year I did so well at pushing Christmas out of my mind that on December 22nd Levi told me we HAD to finally go shopping for our kids' Christmas presents. I hadn't done a bit of shopping for them until that day. While I am a master procrastinator, the reason for the late start was not because of poor time management or letting time escape me as it usually does. This time it was a pure refusal to acknowledge the holidays. If I don't think about them, then it doesn't hurt as bad. It's simply denial. Needless to say, the evening of the 22nd after we had done our shopping and the reality of Christmas was brought front and center, the heaviness of another holiday without my dad could not be pushed away. It was an emotional night and the next morning was no different. And every day after, up until this morning, has been emotional as well. It takes determination to keep the tears from falling and to try and make Christmas fun for our kids when all I want to do is cry, cry, cry. It's not fair that he's not here with us. It's not fair the kids don't have their night to spend over at my parents house. It's not fair. He was too young to be taken away.
And yet, I know in my heart God is faithful and He is still and always will be good to me. This morning, the heaviness on my heart was gone. The sun was brightly shining on my face, waking me up. And a verse came to mind. Lamentations 3:22-23, "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is they faithfulness."
I survived another holiday season. I was not consumed. His mercies are new every morning and I felt the relief of that this morning when I woke. Oh thank God.
A heaviness settles over my heart from November through December as any celebrations are tainted by the sorrow deep within. I used to love the holidays and looked forward to them. Now, I look forward to them being over. I put them out of my mind as best as I can and fill my thoughts with work, work, work. This year I did so well at pushing Christmas out of my mind that on December 22nd Levi told me we HAD to finally go shopping for our kids' Christmas presents. I hadn't done a bit of shopping for them until that day. While I am a master procrastinator, the reason for the late start was not because of poor time management or letting time escape me as it usually does. This time it was a pure refusal to acknowledge the holidays. If I don't think about them, then it doesn't hurt as bad. It's simply denial. Needless to say, the evening of the 22nd after we had done our shopping and the reality of Christmas was brought front and center, the heaviness of another holiday without my dad could not be pushed away. It was an emotional night and the next morning was no different. And every day after, up until this morning, has been emotional as well. It takes determination to keep the tears from falling and to try and make Christmas fun for our kids when all I want to do is cry, cry, cry. It's not fair that he's not here with us. It's not fair the kids don't have their night to spend over at my parents house. It's not fair. He was too young to be taken away.
And yet, I know in my heart God is faithful and He is still and always will be good to me. This morning, the heaviness on my heart was gone. The sun was brightly shining on my face, waking me up. And a verse came to mind. Lamentations 3:22-23, "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is they faithfulness."
I survived another holiday season. I was not consumed. His mercies are new every morning and I felt the relief of that this morning when I woke. Oh thank God.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Becoming Too Familiar Without Him
I tried Googling to see if others who grieve feel the same, but I must have been searching the wrong words since I didn't find anything. I'm sure there are others because I know that while we are each unique, we are not alone and many have walked this road of grief before me. So just in case there is someone out there who is Googling "I worry life without my dad is becoming too familiar", you are not alone.
I'm getting used to him not being here anymore. I'm conflicted about how to feel about this realization. Am I stuffing my feelings down and becoming numb? Am I accepting the loss and moving forward? Should I feel guilty I'm getting used to it and it's become the norm now? I was afraid I'd forget about my dad. That was the whole point of starting this blog. I wanted to get as many memories down as I could before they faded. Is that time now? I struggle to remember the small details that were so fresh two years ago. The sound of his voice in my head is softening...much quieter. Am I forgetting it? I don't want to forget.
I go about my busy days filling my time with work and my kids. I've always been busy. I was too busy to spend more time with him when he was alive...well, I just didn't make him a priority over other things like I now wish I had. But this continuation into busyness, I think, may partly be trying to rush through this life and onto the next. Trying to avoid the pain that comes with silence & a free-from-activity mind.
I don't want this familiarity with his absence. It just means he's been gone for a long time. I don't want him to be gone at all.
My thoughts are kind of scattered right now, but I wanted to put this out there just in case anyone felt the same and stumbled upon this. You're not alone. This familiarity is not something I'm welcoming either.
I'm getting used to him not being here anymore. I'm conflicted about how to feel about this realization. Am I stuffing my feelings down and becoming numb? Am I accepting the loss and moving forward? Should I feel guilty I'm getting used to it and it's become the norm now? I was afraid I'd forget about my dad. That was the whole point of starting this blog. I wanted to get as many memories down as I could before they faded. Is that time now? I struggle to remember the small details that were so fresh two years ago. The sound of his voice in my head is softening...much quieter. Am I forgetting it? I don't want to forget.
I go about my busy days filling my time with work and my kids. I've always been busy. I was too busy to spend more time with him when he was alive...well, I just didn't make him a priority over other things like I now wish I had. But this continuation into busyness, I think, may partly be trying to rush through this life and onto the next. Trying to avoid the pain that comes with silence & a free-from-activity mind.
I don't want this familiarity with his absence. It just means he's been gone for a long time. I don't want him to be gone at all.
My thoughts are kind of scattered right now, but I wanted to put this out there just in case anyone felt the same and stumbled upon this. You're not alone. This familiarity is not something I'm welcoming either.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
In My DNA
We are coming up on the two year mark of Dad's passing. I try to leave myself freedom in my schedule when I know difficult days will be coming up. This week and next will be no different. My parents' anniversary would've been October 1st and then Dad's passing was October 8th. Somehow while managing my own grief, I will need to be aware of my mom's grief and be sensitive to when she needs me. It may be a balancing act.
Right now I have his flannel shirt on. When I was offered the shirt by my mom, I accepted it because it was his. I had no idea how often he wore this shirt until I was looking through pictures of him. I bring it out when I'm feeling down and put it on to feel closer to him. It's been awhile, but the past week I've brought it out twice. My excuse was that I was cold but really, I'm feeling low in my soul. The kids have noticed me wearing it and I think that causes them to be more careful around me...more sensitive and trying to offer more kindness and compassion to each other and to me than usual. I have wonderful kids.
Tonight Anna asked me, "Have you ever had that feeling that you didn't really appreciate what you had when you had it but now you do?" She then started going into memories she had of time spent with my dad. I know she wishes she could have those moments back. I fully believe we have a good God who is always in control. But my heart also struggles with feeling like we were robbed. All the years and memories we wanted to have. Stolen. But never ours to stake a claim on. Still...robbed.
One thing that brings me comfort is knowing that even though he is not here, half of me is him. His DNA is part of me and always with me. My heart that beats and breaks for him, is part him. My hands that wipe the tears which stream down my face...all part him. My skin, nails, and hair; part him. It may not be him; but it's something. At times I feel bad for my mother because it's more than she was allowed to keep of him. She has many more memories than I do. But I have his DNA. I am part him.
Right now I have his flannel shirt on. When I was offered the shirt by my mom, I accepted it because it was his. I had no idea how often he wore this shirt until I was looking through pictures of him. I bring it out when I'm feeling down and put it on to feel closer to him. It's been awhile, but the past week I've brought it out twice. My excuse was that I was cold but really, I'm feeling low in my soul. The kids have noticed me wearing it and I think that causes them to be more careful around me...more sensitive and trying to offer more kindness and compassion to each other and to me than usual. I have wonderful kids.
Tonight Anna asked me, "Have you ever had that feeling that you didn't really appreciate what you had when you had it but now you do?" She then started going into memories she had of time spent with my dad. I know she wishes she could have those moments back. I fully believe we have a good God who is always in control. But my heart also struggles with feeling like we were robbed. All the years and memories we wanted to have. Stolen. But never ours to stake a claim on. Still...robbed.
One thing that brings me comfort is knowing that even though he is not here, half of me is him. His DNA is part of me and always with me. My heart that beats and breaks for him, is part him. My hands that wipe the tears which stream down my face...all part him. My skin, nails, and hair; part him. It may not be him; but it's something. At times I feel bad for my mother because it's more than she was allowed to keep of him. She has many more memories than I do. But I have his DNA. I am part him.
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