Last Wednesday, May 19th, was my parents’ 32nd wedding anniversary and the first anniversary of my dad’s heart transplant. We spent part of the afternoon visiting his grave and marveling at the newly installed marble headstone [which looks great]. Dad is located in a nice part of the National Cemetery near the pond and across from one of our decidedly favorite headstone quotes. I can’t help but crack a smile whenever I see it.
Seeing that Monday also marked the 2nd month since his passing, I figured it was a fitting time to offer you an update.
Grieving is an interesting process. There’s no real manual that covers what to expect for everyone. I know there is the generally accepted “5 Stages of Grief” but everyone reacts and copes differently. Overall, my family is doing fairly well. We’ve been leaning on each other a lot for understanding and the occasional vent/crying session. It’s been fun laughing about random memories of Dad as well as talking through our grievances about him as well. We all have had varying differences in dealing with our feelings. Speaking for myself, I definitely didn’t go through all 5 stages [and only nominally went through the abridged 3 stage model]. I never felt anger or the need to bargain. I have always been at peace with what happened, even through his illness while he was alive. I guess for me, I relied heavily on my relationship with God to see me through this time. Losing my Dad wasn’t an option for me but when it became clear that it was in his best interest to let him go, it was slightly easier to let it be.
In the beginning, I wasn’t sleeping or eating well. I had pretty much lost my appetite and had to make a conscious effort to remember to eat since I wasn’t hungry but I knew I had to eat. Trying to sleep was another ordeal; I’d stay up late and eventually fall asleep only to wake up a few hours later where I’d stay up for another hour or so before finally falling back asleep. It was not an easy time.
I decided that I am going to take my time during the healing stage. I still get weepy every once and again but I try to find the right balance that will allow me to feel exactly how I feel without letting those sad feelings consume me. If I’m sad one day, then I’ll be sad. If I’m fine, then I’ll be fine. Because really, it’s a day by day process. Some days will be better than others but there is no reason or need to rush through your feelings just to get to some level of “normality.” All I hope for are a series of good days.
I’ve found that I’m fine when I’m keeping busy with the day-to-day stuff like school. Most of my sad moments typically hit during my quieter moments, like on my drive home from school. Sometimes I think about the moment his doctors requested the family to gather and how I felt or I’ll think about the moment he quietly slipped away surrounded my family and the slight feeling of panic that struck me when the doctor offered his apologies. I don’t know why I was so shocked when he passed but I guess I was expecting more to happen.
Though, surprisingly, I haven’t had that big cathartic cry yet. I don’t know why or if I’ll ever have one since my first instinct is always to get myself to stop crying [I don't like to cry] but part of me feels like I should have one.
In the end, I try not to look too far ahead. I don’t get down on myself for feeling like I do and I don’t make apologies for myself either. Grief isn’t easy to deal with but it’s made slightly easier by taking it one day at a time. I’ll probably always feel a little sad about losing my dad so I’m not expecting to wake up one day and be totally fine. I don’t plan on erasing his phone number from my phone either. Even though I can’t call him anymore, it’s more comforting to leave it there.
I just want to thank all those who have called, text, or emailed me to check up on my family and I. That is, quite possibly, the best thing anyone can do for someone who lost a loved one. And in case you were wondering, today was a good day.