Sunday, 29 April 2012

I've Come A Long Way In The Past Year

It was an ordinary Saturday, just like today - Phill and I were doing house stuff and pottering about; getting groceries; doing the washing; cleaning up the previous night's dishes and then I got that message and got the news.  Really, it was quite yuck.  All day today, I've had knots in my stomach, waiting for the phone to ring and really hoping it wouldn't.  There were a few moments of watery eyes today, but overall, I've been okay (keeping busy with the gardening, washing and my knitting.)  

I've been well aware of the looming anniversary of Dad's passing (of course) and have been wondering how I'm going to handle it (I'll answer that one on Tuesday and let you know how I go.)  I was convinced it's been harder this year than last year, but upon rereading my posts from last year, I think it was worse then.

There've been tears, lots of them... but last year, I think there were a lot too... it's getting hard to remember, or maybe I just don't want to remember.  Some days, I cry when I think about the day, some days I don't.  Maybe like last year, it's just the anticipation that I'm finding so hard?  I don't cry at random times anymore, and I feel as though I've reached some sort of level of acceptance.  Most importantly, I'm not angry about it anymore.  Anger was my overwhelming feeling for a long time afterwards.  I tried not to let it show outwardly, but I was really pissed off.    
via
When Navaz told me about Dad, all I could say was, "But I haven't talked to him in a month.  He was never home when I called."  I said it over and over.  I think it's all I said for about half an hour (to Phill.)  Not a pretty sight.  He then said something that has stayed with me since -  he asked, "How do you always end your conversations with your parents, even when you're arguing with them?" 
To which I responded, "Love you."
"And when you have to leave a message, what do you say?"
"Hi, it's me, just calling to see how you are, give me  call when you can.  Love you, bye."
"Exactly."
And that's it, exactly.  Dad knew that I loved him.  He knows that I still love him.
That was enough to help me me to get over my anger - it didn't happen overnight, but it happened eventually. (Phill and I have had the same conversation more than once, twice or even thrice over the past two years.)
I'm still sad, but not angry... and I think that's pretty good.
(Dad always hated it when I was in a grump anyway.)



5 comments:

Megan said...

Hugs, my dear.

tez said...

Thank you, my beautiful friend.

Megan said...

I cant imagine what it is like to lose your dad (something I hate the thought of) am thinking of you x

Carmi Levy said...

To this day, I still think about the last discussion I had with my dad before he passed away.

I think we often place so much importance on one particular conversation, on the specific words that were said. I worry we put too much pressure on ourselves. What matters is not so much those few specific words, but the spirit of the relationship over time, and unseen glue that connected us when they were with us, and that keeps us engaged even after they're gone.

From the way you write, it's clear he knew. May his memory always be a blessing.

tez said...

@Megan (Down Under) - Thank you, also lovely lady. Is much appreciated. xx

@Carmi - Thank you so much for your beautiful way with words. You have an amazing way of looking at things and such a gift! May your dad's memory always be a blessing as well.

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