I know it’s been a bit since my last post. But I’ve been so wrapped up in my comic. It’s going really well, and I’m so happy I’m doing it. But that’s not why I’m writing.
I’m going to keep this post short, and there will be no accompanying illo, but I just felt the need to write a little bit. Today is the 1 year anniversary of the day my dad died. I can’t believe an entire year has gone by. And despite it all, it has flown by. It’s been a difficult and painful year. Most especially for my mom who is back in NJ on her own still trying to figure out what she’s going to do. I mean, we’ve done OK moving on mostly. I’ve had a good year otherwise. But still, there have been many moments where it’s just been too much to bear. I know my dad was sick and he was 74, not at all too young, but he was just such a great and generous person who EVERYONE loved, and it’s completely unfair that he should be removed from our lives forever.
So I spend the day partly trying to distract myself, especially as I approach the approximate moment of his death, and the time my mom called to tell me about it. I’ve been doing OK this morning. But it’s getting a little harder now. As I keep thinking in my head, “one year ago at this very moment, he was still alive,” and I know that in just a couple of hours it’ll be “one year ago at this very moment, he had just died.” “One year ago I was about to call my boss and tell him I was going to the US for a month.”
“One year ago about this time I was about to face the most difficult and painful days of my life.”
Those are very morbid thoughts, that I can’t seem to shake. But I am trying to think of the good ones. Like my dad’s hugs, and his laugh, and how happy he always was to answer the phone when I called. And how he used to tease me and call me a “dingbat” or a “dumkoff” (“idiot” in German) when I would do something silly. It’s still mostly painful to think about the happy things, but it’s nicer than the morbid thoughts I mentioned earlier.
So that’s all I wanted to say I guess. I’ll be OK of course. SO will my mom. We ARE ok. It’s just harder somedays. Especially today.
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Allow yourself to embrace the grief and look at it,accept it and tehn release it. and let love represent all that you feel….in truth in love in purity and in faith of al three…connielee
I can’t believe that was a year ago, I remember you sharing your loss with us on LIS. I hope you’re able to continue to work through your grief through the help of your friends and family. Thank you for sharing your memory of your father, he sounds like such a warm and funny man.
I too lost my father to illness – he died August 18, 1996, at 48 of liver cancer. I will never forget the date, what I was doing when I found out, or anything else about that time. I am sorry you have had to endure this kind of pain and depth of sadness too. I miss him more every year he is gone, as I think about this or that I would like to have shared with him or about this or that I needed him to be here, with me. It has helped me, perhaps it will help you too, to write a blog post every year on his birthday and death date in memorial to him. Just something I thought I would mention.
Just remember that you are not alone.
ohh such a busy girl!
i havent passed by here in a while too.. and its good to be here now. i’ll check out your comic later on.. first im here to inform you too that i have tagged you.. maybe you can pass by and take a look..
Today, 4/9/08 is a double anniversary for me. On this day a year ago my husband and I found out I was pregnant. I called my Mom first to tell her, then immediatly called my Daddy. He didn’t answer, so all throughout the day I hit redial on my phone, and still no answer. With a strong feeling of fear boiling inside, I convinced myself that he just couldn’t get to the phone and I would tell him that he was going to be a Grandfather tomorrow. Normally i turned off my cell phone at night to charge it, but that night, I didn’t. Just as deep sleep hit me, my phone rang. UNKNOWN NUMBER flashed on the screen. I don’t answer UNKNOWN NUMBER calls, but it was almost as if I knew. I answered the phone to the greatest heartache of my life… “Liz, I don’t know how to tell you this, your Daddy is dead.” Those words struck me as if a horse had just kicked me in the stomache. First I was silent, then realized I couldn’t breathe, then there it was, PAIN!!!!!
With the joy of a new life, Frances Allare, my heartache seemed eased, but one year later…PAIN!!!