I am packing. I need to take clothing for flying, clothing for coffee and lunches, but mostly I need to take clothing for my dad's memorial service. The clothing has to be cool as it is going to be 94 degrees that day, and it has to be darker colors to show respect. Yes, I am packing. And through this packing, finally the tears. It is finally hitting me. My dad is dead. He was cremated right after his death and buried a few weeks ago. He really is gone.
This service--his memorial, is going to be harder on me than I thought it would. This sudden rush of tears as I pack up my suitcase has left me a little surprised. I assure you that I am normal in my grief, I cried when I heard that he had passed, I cry with my mom on the phone as she speaks of missing him so much and not wanting to go on, however, I think I was crying more for them and not really for me. I grieve mostly for my mother. After 63 years of marriage, she is now facing the rest of her life alone. And that makes me so sad. She is barely getting through this time. She is barely holding on. So, yes, I have cried, but it has mostly been for her. Until now.
Now, as I pack my outfit for my father's service, these tears are for me. As I cry, and mourn, and grieve, these are my tears. Mine. All mine. I don't want to get on that plane today. I don't want to fly out to California. I don't want to see my extended family and I don't want to cry and think about not ever seeing my dad alive again. It's just too much.
I want to stay home. I want to enjoy my life. I want to ignore the feelings and emotions that sometimes sneak up on me. I want to push down those feeling, and not take them out right now. It's just too hard. What I want though, and what I must do, don't seem to coincide. I have to be a grown up, and that isn't always fun. I have to finish packing up, take my dog to her boarding place, get on that long flight, try not to cry, and land in a hot, sad place. Uggggg Not a happy time in my life at all. Not at all.
I know I sound selfish, I know this. However, when I began writing this blog a few years back, there was one thing I promised myself. I promised to always share my feelings, my thoughts, my emotions, my truth, and to be as transparent as possible, even if it meant exposing myself for whom I really am. I write this blog mainly for my grandchildren. I am hoping that they get to know me better--in some distant future--and that they somehow feel closer to me. I want them to know that I was just as human as they are. I also write it for my friends and family. Because although I am a Christian and walk extremely close with my God, I am also extremely human, much to my dismay.
Yes, I am an emotional being--frail, lonely, insecure, etc. And I own it.
So today, I cry. My tears. For me. For my own sadness. I cry for the what-could-have-been's, the what should-have-been's and the memories that I hold dear to my heart. I guess I just miss my dad.
