Meh.
He died and I kissed him and hugged him and cried on him as I had all day long. I have never felt so sad and so good all at once. I was smiling like an idiot and crying like a baby and holding him and hugging him and kissing him and I'm his little girl and always will be forever and ever and ever.
Dad died four years ago today, and this anniversary is a lot different than the last two. For starters, I didn't spend my day crying like an idiot, which is really what I'm having trouble coming to terms with.
The first year after his death, I'd beg and plead to the gods on a daily basis to take away the heartache. I'd give anything to not feel so sad. As time went on, I got back to my life, and while I felt sad now and then, I was mostly OK. I'd have mad crying fits on occasion, but they subsided, and here I am today. It's the anniversary, I've cried once, and it was for fifteen minutes.
My wish has come true. I'm feeling sad, certainly, but I'm not choking on snot or pounding my fists into my pillow. At the same time, I'm frightened. It feels like every year that goes by is another year I forget him. Another year I feel disconnected. Another year I stop really caring about how much I miss my dad.
The other day while on my usual bus route, I got to chatting with the driver about one thing or another, and it was discovered that he was a good buddy of Dad's in high school. That small connection so close to the anniversary of Dad's death really hit home. It was a reminder that Dad existed, that other people knew him, and for once it wasn't based on my feeling badly. I feel like in order to really acknowledge him, I have to still feel sad about it in some way. Of course I want to remember the happy memories, and I do, but so long as I don't feel the strong emotions of sadness, it's like nobody will remember him.
I think a lot of the feeling bad to remember comes with how I felt about Dad in life. The times he affected me most in my teenage years were when he hurt me. Whenever he was most strongly on my mind was when he had hurt my feelings or was being a shitty dad. Moving on from that really truly means that he can't hurt me anymore. It should be freeing but it isn't?
I'm off rambling now, but there you have it. It took over a year before I'd even listen to The Beatles (they were all that played at his funeral), and even longer before I could hear them without crying. Now I can listen to them like I did as a kid and a teenager, and it's just music. Just like Dad was Just Dad, and he's dead, and it sucks.
He left me when I was way too young and it's all his fault. My entire livelihood is what it is because he died. I don't like it.
In Good News, I've had my beautiful little girl, Merlin, for two years today. She's my bratty princess and I love her.
Dad died four years ago today, and this anniversary is a lot different than the last two. For starters, I didn't spend my day crying like an idiot, which is really what I'm having trouble coming to terms with.
The first year after his death, I'd beg and plead to the gods on a daily basis to take away the heartache. I'd give anything to not feel so sad. As time went on, I got back to my life, and while I felt sad now and then, I was mostly OK. I'd have mad crying fits on occasion, but they subsided, and here I am today. It's the anniversary, I've cried once, and it was for fifteen minutes.
My wish has come true. I'm feeling sad, certainly, but I'm not choking on snot or pounding my fists into my pillow. At the same time, I'm frightened. It feels like every year that goes by is another year I forget him. Another year I feel disconnected. Another year I stop really caring about how much I miss my dad.
The other day while on my usual bus route, I got to chatting with the driver about one thing or another, and it was discovered that he was a good buddy of Dad's in high school. That small connection so close to the anniversary of Dad's death really hit home. It was a reminder that Dad existed, that other people knew him, and for once it wasn't based on my feeling badly. I feel like in order to really acknowledge him, I have to still feel sad about it in some way. Of course I want to remember the happy memories, and I do, but so long as I don't feel the strong emotions of sadness, it's like nobody will remember him.
I think a lot of the feeling bad to remember comes with how I felt about Dad in life. The times he affected me most in my teenage years were when he hurt me. Whenever he was most strongly on my mind was when he had hurt my feelings or was being a shitty dad. Moving on from that really truly means that he can't hurt me anymore. It should be freeing but it isn't?
I'm off rambling now, but there you have it. It took over a year before I'd even listen to The Beatles (they were all that played at his funeral), and even longer before I could hear them without crying. Now I can listen to them like I did as a kid and a teenager, and it's just music. Just like Dad was Just Dad, and he's dead, and it sucks.
He left me when I was way too young and it's all his fault. My entire livelihood is what it is because he died. I don't like it.
In Good News, I've had my beautiful little girl, Merlin, for two years today. She's my bratty princess and I love her.