We've made it through the one year anniversary of his death as well as our second Thanksgiving without him. For awhile I thought I was doing okay. I'm not so sure anymore. I think I was just pushing everything down by making myself so busy with work, but the grief is still there waiting for me...like an unwelcome guest who doesn't take the hint to leave. It makes itself known during the quiet moments and in the 'holiday' spirit. And it comes sometimes in sudden rushes that leave me saying out loud, "What the fuck?!" Of course, no children are present for those statements. Other times when the kids are around and it hits, I'm either decent at shoving it down quickly so they can't see or I make an unnoticeable exit to my room where I lock the door, go into my closet, wrap my dad's shirt around me like a hug, and bawl. Those moments leave my face red and even after finally calming down I have bloodshot eyes. That's when my kids ask, "what's wrong Momma?" The only answer I can ever give while keeping it from bubbling up again is, "I'm okay. Just missing Grandpa." They usually give me a quick hug and then go back to playing.
Thanksgiving was a hard one again. It was my holiday with my parents; both of them. To not have him here hurts. As we were eating, I could almost hear him complimenting my food like he used to and telling me I did a good job. My dad never withheld praise from me. He was one of my biggest supporters and encouragers. I'm sure I felt overwhelmed by my shortcomings before his death, but not having his voice there cheering me on is like having part of your support system removed. What you feel about yourself takes a hit when a voice of praise is silenced. You have to fall back on memories of your loved one's words to remind yourself that you're not doing as poorly of a job as you feel like you are.
We would've laughed at the rolls this year. Anna did a wonderful job helping with them, but I mucked it up and burned the bottoms of them. He would've made us laugh with some comment about breaking his teeth I'm sure. But then he also would've complimented my turkey and my gravy. I remember the first Thanksgiving I hosted was when we lived in Stayton in 2004. It felt perfect. My turkey turned out perfect. My gravy turned out perfect. My parents were there and it was perfect. I hosted 9 Thanksgiving dinners with my parents coming to our house. We had a wonderful tradition going; until it was ripped away.
Christmas and New Years are the next two hurdles to overcome. He made both special for our family. I remember him stringing lights on our house in Palm Desert; taking us to the store to buy Christmas presents; going caroling in what seemed like cold temps (now I know different since moving from the desert); Christmas light hunting in the car with hot chocolate; and even when I got "too big" for Christmas light hunting and would complain about having to go only to love it as usual. You know, I watch sappy Christmas movies on Hallmark & Lifetime to convince myself the holidays can be happy still. But those shows are all pretend. And when the show ends, I'm reminded reality is much harsher than that...so onto another sappy Christmas movie to temporarily fool myself once more.
I recently saw Whoopie Goldberg say on Jimmy Fallon's show, "I just need a minute!" Yeah, me too. I just need a minute to not push myself into work as a way to ignore the pain inside. I just need a minute to breathe when surrounded by quiet without feeling the hurt. I just need a minute to feel secure again and not question when the next shoe will drop. I just need a minute to feel whole again without feeling as though part of me is gone. I just need a minute to feel joy without it being tainted by the ever-present sorrow. I just need a minute. And I wish that minute could be spent with my dad.
