TEN YEARS

It occurred to me a couple of days ago that it will have been 10 years ago this coming Sunday (October 1st) that my father passed away.

It probably sounds odd to say that it "occurred" to me, because it seems like I should have the dates marked on a calendar, but really, missing someone doesn't work like that.  Well, at least not for me.  There really isn't a timeline in grief, it just is.  It goes back and forth between better and worse over and over, like the tides, but it never goes away. Even though you are aware of the days and hours, it also runs altogether into one big wash of time.


Ten years, though.  Somehow it seems like it just happened yesterday and sometimes it feels like it happened a hundred years ago.  Haha, how's that for a cliche?

I don't remember a whole lot about that time, because everything seemed so unreal, but the things I do remember are hard set in my mind.  Sara brought food to my mom's house and Steve had to bring me clothes - but nothing he brought fit exactly right.  A friend from church came by my mom's house and I was confused because I didn't know how she knew where I was.  Kenny came to my dad's visitation, stayed to the very end, and was the first person to make me laugh in days. His mom, Bonita, wrote me the kindest letter afterwards because she knew what it was like to lose a father unexpectedly. Our cousins Greg, Amy, and Kristin drove three hours to be there for the funeral, and Steve's boss sent a basket of beautiful flowers.  It's weird what you remember about times like that, but those are all wonderful things to remember about such an awful time, so I'm glad those memories stayed.

Thinking about his passing has also made me think of the past ten years and everything that has happened.  I wonder what he'd think about all of it?  For at least the five years following his death, every year I lost so much and so much changed. I changed.  I'm not the same person that I was, and it makes me wonder if he would even like me now. I hope so!  It's hard not to let yourself become hard and cynical when you're faced with certain things, but would him being here to talk to have made any of that better? I dunno.

Heh, I actually started out hoping to wrote an eloquent, heartfelt ode to my dad, but it didn't end up being that, did it?  That's ok, though.  Some people would be much better at expressing themselves than I am, but for me, all I can say is that I miss him and I wish he was here. I'll probably always feel that way.

One thing I've learned through his death and all that followed is that losing someone you love doesn't really get easier.  It doesn't matter if they die, if they just lose touch, or if your relationship with them changes in some significant, but diminished, way. If you ever truly cared anything about them, it hurts when that happens.  It's unfair that people can suddenly be out of your life before you're finished loving them.

And that's all I've got to say about that.