Relationship Suspended

It's been a little over 6 years since my Dad left this earth.

I recently had a friend whose mom left this earth - very close to the passing of my Dad, just years later. My mom's youngest sister departed as well this summer. Not that it matters necessarily but all of these individuals battled forms of cancer. I really despise cancer.

Aside from that, whenever a friend or family member experiences this gut-wrenching loss, I find I have nothing of value to say. I desperately don't want to appear insensitive at a time when a person I love is experiencing hypersensitive emotions at depths that were previously unimaginable but I also am not very good at concocting lifeless words.

Six years ago people tried to say the right things - how he was in a better place and he was no longer in pain. They said it in person or mailed cards and I know the heart in which their message was delivered was in a good place and it's not like I didn't believe the messages were untrue. But if I'm being honest - for me these words did nothing. They felt lifeless and more often than not, I became annoyed and/or irritated.

I've pondered why. I am not sure I have the answer but I suspect it may be because no one addressed the pain that his passing catalyzed in my life and in the lives of all who loved him and who were loved by him. It felt like an attempt was being made to apply a band-aid to cover up the ugliness that was brewing inside my soul. Applying a bandage without addressing the infection is simply a recipe for disaster and I often felt like I was in the middle of a tropical storm. There were times I chose to play along (at times this seemed easier) and assumed the role of sucking it up so I wouldn't cause others to feel uncomfortable with my grief. But that's just it - it was my grief and somehow I had to process it. I knew if I didn't figure this out, it would both consume and destroy me - leaving a wake of yuck. I wouldn't say I'm at the finish line of this - just processing life as it comes.

Time would heal. That was another statement that was offered to provide a semblance of hope and maybe stave off despair. While time has provided a balm of sorts to the pain, it alone cannot conquer grief. One of the greatest gifts I received was from the few who acknowledged my grief and didn't shame me for it or just expect me to get on with life in the timing that others may deem appropriate. These individuals demonstration the truth of Romans 12:15 and they were my lifeline.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

Recently I've been asking myself why I am still experiencing difficult moments - missing dad and wishing he was here to talk to. Sometimes I have had audible one-sided conversations "with" him. Processing life so to speak.

I've made the statement that it seems unfair that because I was blessed to experience great love and friendship that the loss felt is proportionally great. Philosophically then, if we want to avoid personal pain, we should avoid depth in relationships. I do NOT advocate this at all because I believe there is tremendous value in relationships and we yearn for meaningful connections.  

During one of my mental-pondering sessions I heard "your relationship has been suspended". What does that even mean? I wasn't quite sure but it was starting to make sense to me - inside of me. Missing Dad wasn't simply due to his lack of presence but more because a pause button was hit on our relationship. Some might see it as a stop button. But life wasn't paused and in fact there were times it felt like it was marching forward even when I wasn't ready to move, threatening to steamroll me. In truth, life in this realm has continued on without him. Currently I choose daily to be part of it and not begrudgingly - to live intentionally with my family and friends. Relationships have grown, deepened, and changed but not my relationship with Dad. He is only present with me through my memories and those memories include less and less of my current reality. I make him a part of life in the here and now by "seeing" him in my boys or talking about how he'd enjoy what we were doing or we imagine what he'd say / do if he were here. And while that puts a temporary smile on my face, it doesn't take away the fact that he is absent which then threatens the eruption of tears.

I don't have the keys to a solution. I still don't have the words to make things better for those that start this painful journey. This recognition of why I still tear or choke up doesn't take that away. But for me, another layer of understanding the "why" brings with it a little more healing and allows me to move forward another step.

And while I don't love that a pause button has been hit, I have no desire to hit the fast-forward button.

I'll continue to ask questions and be introspective. This helps me and keeps me from getting stuck because there are still many relationships that are growing deeper. Life has too much to offer and Dad wouldn't want me to miss a single second.

So many milestones have been achieved since you've been gone. Good news is that there are many more to come!

My Dad - he will always be one of my bff's.

Living Change

"If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living." Gail Sheehy

Change. It is often resisted and yet it is the one constant in life.

Seasons. People. Schedules. Relationships.

I guess you could say I have been on a writing hiatus. At least writing for me. I've written curriculum and lesson plans - in multiple formats the last few years. Which brings me to another change. I returned to the classroom. Part time initially but am starting my third year full time. The return has provided a new set of challenges each and every year - for reasons outside of my control - but overall it has been a good change.

J is in his freshman year of college. How did that happen?! Truly surreal. We "blinked" and our babe turned toddler and next thing we knew, our "little man" was standing before us fully grown. This is a HUGE change that catalyzed this season of him navigating new responsibilities and freedoms of adulthood while still being financially dependent on us (and hopefully still liking to be around us some of the time).

Thankful B still has a few more years home. Cherishing the time with him. This summer he blew past me in height and his voice has been cracking as it takes on a deeper tone. He still gives me a hug and sometimes a kiss good-bye or good-night. If he only knew how much those little actions bless this momma's heart.

Chessie won't be leaving us anytime soon. Don't remember her? Of course not - she is our English lab whose presence has deepened the wells of love that exist in our family. That said, she brought SO MUCH change in the past 2+ years.

We celebrated our 25th Anniversary this year and my mom celebrated her 80th birthday!

"For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones ad a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Birthday Blessings

Today is my birthday and it's a good one. Not that birthday's are "bad" but the last two years they have been a bit tough. In 2013, it was a little too close to my Dad's departure to heaven to really feel happy. It was difficult to smile - especially on the inside. 2014 was better but life still felt askew. 

This year is different. It isn't because I miss my Dad any less. That isn't true at all. It's just that the pain which seemed to be ever-present, isn't dominant anymore. My eyes might tear up when I'm 'remembering when...' but it's usually paired with a smile now. Even on the inside.

And today has been filled with smiles and making memories with those that fill my life and heart with love. Waking up to texts from my 'besties' and receiving those special messages from family and friends means a lot.

Quality not quantity.

That truly is my heart. My little man, B was determined to make me breakfast in bed. With his Dad's help, he prepared me eggs, sausage, bagel and coffee. He has such a servants heart that desires to bless others. That coupled with his hugs and kisses is the BEST way to begin my day.

My teenager, J, slept in (he is a teen!) but he too blessed me in his own way - mainly a hug that I now feel lost in since he's grown 8 inches this past year and towers over me. He and his Dad have spent many hours today moving wires and furniture around in the basement. Bringing substance to what I envision our basement to be. It will not be finished but it's a start. And their sacrifice of time is a HUGE gift to me.

I've had the luxury of time to spend on items that have been on the back burner...making blends of essential oils with carrier oils for our families use, and finally making a batch of my whipped body butter. With the drop in temperature, I know my skin will be grateful. Sounds like work but no, this too is a gift I gave to myself. I took a break from my classwork, laundry, menu planning, etc and allowed myself the luxury of a few hours.

In a few hours, the tasks we've filled our hours with will cease. We will be getting ready for a lovely dinner together and a show that is my love's surprise to us all. 

Time together. That is the greatest gift of all. 

Reflections

One year.

Today is September 2nd.

Last year that was the last day I had with my Dad.

In a single breath, I can see myself sitting by his bed. Holding his hand. Trying to commit every detail to memory. Because I knew it wouldn't be long. I heard the change in his breathing throughout the day. I knew he was going home to be with Jesus soon. He was ready.  He was at peace.

I was...well, I don't really know what word describes how I was. I was choosing to trust God no matter what. I was not oblivious to Dad's decline in health but I didn't want to say "good-bye". I knew that God could heal him this side of heaven in a blink of an eye but I didn't know if that was part of His plan.

That morning I had my last real conversation with my Daddy.

Holding his hand, looking into his eyes, I said "I love you". I don't think it's possible to count how many times I spoke those words to him throughout my life. A trillion bazillion would still not be enough.

He replied  "I love you too" and then added "I have to tell you something. I'm going to die."

Holding back tears, I said "I know." and then added "No matter what happens on Earth, you will live forever because you are one of God's children and you are united with Christ". I then continued to speak the truths of Ephesians 1 over him.

Later that night I broke down. I guess it was time. Time to tell him "thank you" again for being the best Dad / friend / confidant / etc. Telling him how much the simple gesture of holding his hand meant to me and all that it represented - the safety, protection, love, comfort... Reminding him how much I loved his hugs and embrace and how I was incredibly blessed that God chose to give me him as my Dad.

None of it was new. There were many times that I shared these sentiments with him before - in person, written in cards, talking over coffee, talking on the phone... But this time was different. And I had held out as long as I could. I didn't want it to be the last time for me to say and share all of these things with him. The last time to express my heart and love to him. But I also didn't want to miss it.

Live life without regret. I still remember making that declaration over my life after one of the many conversations Dad and I had during my teen years.

I continue to live with that as my mindset. I've added living intentionally to it as well. That doesn't mean every day goes as planned. It's doesn't. Clearly. No one plans to deal with grief and missing a loved one. But if that's what is on my plate for that day, I'm going to do it. No one plans on spilling a glass of milk (or coffee). But if it spills, you clean it up and then move on or continue doing whatever it was you were doing before it spilled. There were some days where it seemed like all I did was "wipe up the spilled milk".  All. Day. Long. But apparently that was on my plate that day. And I haven't experienced a day like that for quite some time.

I didn't know what today would bring. I wouldn't have minded just getting through the day without tears (or spilled milk) and I could have determined to not deal with it. To just suppress the emotions and push past the day. But that's not how I live. Instead I've journaled, cried, and owned my feelings.

I also don't think it's happenstance that this song is the one I've been singing all day.  You Make Me Brave by Bethel. He still ministers to me through music. I'm grateful for it.

Evolving from Grayscale to Full Color

2014 has begun.  New year.  New beginnings.

I haven't written here for awhile.  It isn't that I haven't been processing but the thought of putting it all into words seemed haphazard with an extra dose of messiness.  It still feels this way but the need to get it out and on "paper" became stronger.  So here I sit, with my laptop, trying to put into words what has transpired over the last few months.

Interestingly, today is the 18th of January...two months since my last post.

December.  The funeral home we used invited us to an evening where we honored Dad, recognizing how his presence would be missed throughout the Christmas season.  It was surprisingly beautiful (although I didn't really know what to expect) and at the same time, it ripped off the bandage to my grief / mourning and the rawness of my heart felt exposed once again.

The day that followed seemed wasted with tears and sadness.  I know it was really another step for me to take but the day passed with the accomplishment of tear-stained cheeks and recognizing that I felt completely unbalanced with a head that was ready to move on and a heart that felt stuck.

That Sunday, prayer was offered for those who would be experiencing the holidays with a loss.  I stood.  And was blessed with my Father meeting me in my unbalanced, raw state.  A number of people surrounded me but there was one who shared that God would be like a gyroscope for me - providing balance regardless of the direction my steps took.  It wasn't like the skies cleared and all was new again, but I will say that a new level of peace, with a renewed hope, filled each day that followed.

Christmas.  We hosted.  So much could be said and shared but it isn't all relevant and really, this post is already super long.  Anyway, with hosting came the comfort of following a schedule and blessing my family.  I had to excuse myself one time to be still and breathe.  Dinner time, in the midst of the conversation, stories and smiles, I was struck with recognizing that I missed my Dad's voice.  He would have loved our meal of chicken parmesan, pasta with kalamata olives, meatballs, spinach casserole, broccoli and cauliflower casserole, bread from Brooklyn, etc. and I missed his words thanking all those that contributed to the yumminess and joy of sharing time with each other.  I missed his laughter that would start as a slow boil and then spill into everything we did that day.  I missed his smile and the sparkle in his eye as we would make eye contact at dinner and exchange "I love you's".  I missed him and needed to take a moment away from everything and just breathe.  So I did.  In the bathroom.  Because really, that is sometimes the only place where you can have privacy when your house is filled with people.

New Years came and I wanted to look forward to 2014.  I embraced it but still felt, I don't know how to describe it...detached?

Couple the start of the new year with reading.  In the series, I connected to the one of the main characters in a few different ways - the most tangible being the strength that she grasped to and dug deep for in the midst of all the yuck that she was surrounded with. At one point in the midst of despair and a sense of hopelessness, she experiences a revelation inside of her and silently declared that she wanted to live.  The reality of death surrounded her and yet there was this spark inside that was crying for her to live and I connected to that.

I wasn't about to die.  Not literally.  But I recognized that the level I was living at was not where I wanted to be.  I was still living in what I will label survival mode.  I don't think it was wrong.  I actually think it was fitting since I was surviving life after my Dad died.  But I finally recognized that there was this small spark inside of me that was waiting to be recognized, wanting more for my life.

And that is the place where I am now.  I still miss my Dad.  That will never go away.  But if I want to live in the present - living in full color rather than existing in grayscale, it is life without him being physically present in my every day.

I see him in my minds-eye.  Laughing with his broad smile and twinkling blue eyes.  That's my Dad.  And he would never want me to walk away from the joys that life can bring.  The life that is still there for me to live and experience.  In fullness.  No - he'd be cheering me on, reminding me that I can do anything that I set my mind to and that with God, I've got everything that I need to be victorious in my journey.

The next leg of my journey has begun and is set with the destination of living life out loud and in full color and so I lift my foot, regardless of the mixture of my internal emotions, I know I'm empowered, and therefore, I put my foot down, taking the next step with my eyes wide open and a heart ready to live.

If the sky could draw what living in full color could look like...