Sunday, 28 September 2008

• Six months.  Such a short time, yet I can hardly remember what it was like before.

  Six months ago today, I learned my dad died.  Sadly, I have to add a little more then a month before that for the last time I talked to him. I thanked him for the valentine's gift he had sent me.

  He's death was very sudden.  We knew his health wasn't the greatest and if he didn't start taking care of himself, he wouldn't have a long life.  But I though we could lose him maybe in his early 60's.  I also though he'd have multiple heart attacks and we'd have a period of taking care of him.  But we lost him to his very first heart attack at the age of 52.  No notice.  No warning.  No rushing to the hospital.  No chance to go say goodbye.

  There is so much to work through still.  So many thoughts and emotions.  We had such a fractured relationship.  I didn't think I had any hope that our relationship could improve.  But now that the door is shut, I've found that I still had a lot of hope left.  And it hurts like mad to know that it can never be better.  Our dysfunctional relationship is all that there can ever be.

  I have no negative memories of my dad before I was 10.  He was great with kids.  But around there, I started to grow up.  I didn't want to tickle fight with him and David.  I was trying to "do" my hair and would duck when he tried to rumple it.  And instead of understanding and helping me grow into a young lady, he took offense as though these things meant I didn't love him any more.  We were never close after that.

  My parents separated when I was 21 and he filed for divorce a year later.  Right when I was trying to make another transition with my relationship with him, to be adult-to-adult, things were all messed up.  Somehow we flip-flopped and I was the only one being an adult.  I had to learn to put my foot down and not let him put that responsibility on me.  But that also pushed us father apart.

  And that is how it ended.  The last time I saw him, we went out to eat and he was awful to the restaurant staff.  He tipped so badly I left extra money under my plate.  He gave me a ride back to my mom's where I was staying and then came in the house, which made my mom uncomfortable, therefore making me uncomfortable.  I was just wishing away the moments until he left.  And then he did.  And I never saw him again.

  ---

  The last month has been better.  I took a couple vacation days around Labor Day and spent them in Poughkeepsie.  I cried and prayed in my favorite places there and worked through some of the emotions.  Since I got home, I hadn't cried until this past Friday.  Over 3 weeks without tears.  But on the way to work Friday, I found myself crying in the car again.  The first month, this happened almost daily.  And then it was every few days.  It surprised me to find it happening again.  And then I cried during worship this morning at church.  Wanted to bawl, but held it back.  And now of course, I've cried my eyes out writing this.

  But I've hidden so long, I need to post this.  I need to be a little more open.  This road is going to be long.  But it must be traveled.

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