It's been awhile since my last blog, or vlog for that matter. The last three weeks of my life have been a blur, with the end result losing my father on Valentine's Day. I have decided that I am not going to be one of those people that posts a blog every single day my heart decides to bleed about the circumstance. Our loved ones that pass don't wish that for us. Shy of losing two babies, the events surrounding my father's death were nothing shy of heinous and the worst eleven days of my life I'll never get back. This is the only time I'm going to blog about it. I am going to get busy living my life instead of living each day wallowing in self pity, using my blog as a platform for my grief. Blech!
Do not get me wrong, needing support is needing support, and I see absolutely nothing wrong with that. But I am not going to be one of those ones blogging about tragedy every time I get the chance. That is utterly self destructive. Death is death. It isn't easy. What we choose to do after we lose someone is. We move forward, silently honoring the bad days and living the glorious good days.
My father transitioned quickly, with little cocoon time post trauma. When his heart took its final beat with my mom, my brother and myself by his side, dad was gone. And so ended 70 years of living, 41 years of being a loving husband, 41 years of being one hell of a dad, and 7 years being the most amazing grandpa to four grandchildren.
Seeing the world as I do through psychic eyes, I truly wanted to know that my father spent little time being tucked away for a bit over there to recuperate from his experience, which usually happens . When dad's own coffeemaker called it quits the next day, I knew dad had spent very little time in a cocoon over there. The sign couldn't have been any clearer.
Losing a loved one, regardless of what stage of life (in utero, young, old), is difficult and does have its associated heartache. But it doesn't have to be torture. What it can be is loving. As the days and images surrounding how my dad passed move further away, the harsh memories and images are replaced with the loving thoughts of who my dad was, not how he ended. It is the most loving thing I can do for him and others in my life. The eleven days surrounding my father's passing were not indicative of my father's life. The man who behaved like a kid in a candy shop are the memories I will choose to replace the final days. Those were only final days, they weren't the 70 years leading up to it. My dad loved us like nobody's business and worshipped the ground my mother walked on. He lived a truly fulfilled life and I know that he left with the comfort that we were all taking care of each other, as a family should.
We are allowed to move forward, and we are allowed to be happy. We should want to be happy. Yes, there will be sad days, after all, we are only human. But when a loved one leaves, the last thing they want is for us to be sitting around wallowing in self pity. We have to start living because that is what they wish for us. Missing them is all well and very healthy, but can you imagine the joy a passed loved one must have when seeing us laughing, and embracing every minute of life we have?
Life is a precious commodity and one hell of a place to learn about the human side of things. It isn't easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But just because it isn't easy, doesn't mean you can't make it fun.
I loved my dad like nobody's business, and it won't be the same without him here. But I am eternally grateful that his bright light is busy shining on the other side. He will always be with me sharing my crazy adventures in life, protecting me when necessary, and laughing when things get really silly. I love you dad!
