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.)