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Sally Sunshine is not here right now, try again later

Posted on Nov 08, 2007. 12 comments

At this point it's either silence or being real about what I'm experiencing. In the spirit of honesty I'll go with the truth. I wish I could be poetic and inspiring with my words today, that I didn't feel such heaviness in my heart about the past year. If only I had some Chopra-eque sound bite to assure everyone that everything will go on as usual. But that's really hard to do when you are slapped in the face with your own mortality.
I'm still grieving the loss of my Father. It's a physical, visceral, self indulgent reaction to his loss in my life. Nighttime is the worst. I turn on the television to get to sleep, only to awaken after 5 minutes as if from a nightmare. But the sad reality is, my Father is still gone. He occupies my thoughts during the day, in an oblique kind of way. I find myself unable to go through the stuff I brought home, the things that belonged to him. So it sits by the computer. An unwelcome reminder that he's gone.
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He lived so much life in the between. The time the photograph was taken, immortalizing his youth and the time he died. The warped paper, fading and becoming discolored a testament to the relentless passage of time. His piercing gaze looking back at me from the past. I wish the picture would never fade nor crumble, just as I wish he was among the living. Even with his few words I'd like to sit with him and just be, quietly.
Mike and I went yesterday to get our fingerprints taken, so we can watch our nephew while my Mother in Law undergoes surgery for her breast cancer. We have to have a background check and be approved by the state. Ironic since the State had no interest in my Sister in Law when she was with us. Her Autopsy results came back, the main cause of death being a heart arrhythmia. Fitting that the secondary cause of death was Schizophrenia. So much truth, life, and pain glossed over in such few words.
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I like to remember the happier times with Janet. The photograph was taken after a long day at Disneyland, when we celebrated her milestone, a year since she'd been in jail. And so many good things happened for her that year. She was happy and healthy, working toward her library science certificate. She looks relaxed, like she's had a little sun. No physical manifestation of her illness present. I'll work on remembering her that way.
While looking for photographs I stumbled upon this sunset image, taken on my honeymoon.
168656776105_0_ALB.jpg It was a simple and joyful time, before we'd had all the loss and suffering of the past year. I'd say I'd like to go back to that time, but it's not true. So much good happened during that between. And with time I hope the good consoles me just as much as the bad has shattered me.

Comments

  • Posted by Annie on Nov 17, 2007

    Oh, I wish I could hug you. Fucking sucks. You’re doing really well, you know. Though it people say that to me all the time, and I just think how well I am fooling them.
    Here is one of my favorite quotes, which I said when we scattered part of Adam in England. It’s by Edna St. Vincent Millay, and totally summed things up for me. I think you can relate.
    “Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”
    Your dad was a really handsome guy.

  • Posted by stephanie on Nov 11, 2007

    “self indulgent”? physical and visceral I can understand. but self indulgent? Never. NEVER is mourning self indulgent. It is a necessary part of healing. If grief is repressed, it only comes back to haunt you in the worst ways. I know from experience. Feel it. Feel it fully and completely for as long as it takes for the worst to pass. I know it’s trite, but the grief does ease over time.
    I agree with La’s advice to set your father’s things aside for a while until you are ready to go through them. I’m glad my grandmother’s things were stored for as long as they were before I got them from my parents’ house. It gave me the distance I needed to remember and use them w/o anger over her being taken from us.
    I’ll be thinking of you.

  • Posted by Kate on Nov 11, 2007

    Thinking of you.

  • Posted by desiknitter on Nov 12, 2007

    Thank you for your comment on my blog – I also enjoy reading yours. I am amazed at your ability to put in precise and feeling words so many complex emotions, and yet they tell me how much you must be holding back. A big hug to you and warmest wishes for these tough times.

  • Posted by Jenn on Nov 09, 2007

    Don’t beat yourself up for having bad days and what you feel are weak moments. It’s going to take a while to sort all of this out and come to terms with it, and you’re not going to be the same person you once were. it’s okay to be mad, bitter, sad, whatever. Your foundation is shaken when you lose a parent – that’s inevitable. Do your best to go with it, let people help you, let people support you. And just go with it.

  • Posted by Lee on Nov 09, 2007

    If it helps, what you are experiencing is pefectly normal. There really are no words that will comfort you or advice that will sooth the grief, you just have to feel your feelings. I know because I was the same when I lost my dad. I cried every day for months, the sadness doesn’t go away but you will become more able to bear it. Just remember all those (in blogland & RL) who sympathize and wish you well. Take things in your own time & confront things at your own pace – there’s no right or wrong – just what works for you. Blessed be. Lee

  • Posted by Wendy on Nov 09, 2007

    It may seem unbelievable, and of course everyone is different, but it gets better.
    I still think of my mother every day, I still miss her everyday, and I still cry (thankfully not every day), but that paralytic fog of grief has lifted, the pain and those awful whatifs are almost gone (they just pop up like an emotional whack-a-mole and are recognised for what they are and dismissed quickly) and it hasn’t even been a year.
    Which seems impossible to believe.
    The good stuff is so much easier to access, and the pain is not the same. It’s very livable.
    It’s more like she’s moved back into my heart and out of my head. So the hardest part is over, and now it seems that the hardest parts of now are just the missing her, the missing her missing the moments we want to celebrate together. So, relatively speaking, much much better, and very lucky. I hope you find this to be true for you guys as well, in your own time.

  • Posted by Christie on Nov 09, 2007

    These are not easy times for you. It’s good that you are honest about your feelings and express them…we are you friends and we are here to support and listen.
    Much love to you and your family.

  • Posted by marri on Nov 09, 2007

    hugs

  • Posted by Becky in Iowa :O) on Nov 09, 2007

    {{{hugs}}}

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