Loss. Pain. Saying goodbye to someone who never said hello. Or goodbye. A dad. I’m 54. One of 6 girls. During his last week’s with Parkinson’s disease, while I was beating myself up for not being able to make myself go be near him, across the street -it occurred to me that he didn’t want me to. He didn’t want me. He didn’t like me. I could count on less than one hand the number of times he reached out to me for any kind of relationship. It was not the time and it was not my place to go and get in his face and try to force something that never was. And I was ok with that. His last days were hellish enough with the dementia, paranoia, pain, agitation, muscle freezing, sleeplessness and other family members fighting about his home care.
I was relieved to realize I could stay out of the way, just try to be helpful from the outside, and let him go. When the grief hit me like a Mac Truck within days of his passing (4 months ago) I was caught completely off guard. It hasn’t helped that the family dynamics have spiraled out of control and into the most horrible series of events that even the cleverest fiction writer would be hard pressed to conjure up.
I didn’t think I’d feel much. But I find myself wading through deep and unexpected, murky waters. Physical exhaustion and weakness for no reason, literally heart breaking pain in my chest, nausea, sleeplessnes, etc.
Of course the Almighty, Sovereign God is with me, or I’m with Him, but there’s no way around -only through.
Seeking, learning. My Pinterest collection on Grief so far…
Onward through the fog,