I thought this might be a good place to talk about some things concerning the passing of my father. We recently traversed the second Christmas without his presence. I imagine most people do not find this particular subject appealing, it is an important one nonetheless.
In 2019, we changed venues, some traditions, and the entire menu due to the difficulty of upholding the regular traditions, and memories of my dad. It was a difficult year, having lost him on Easter Morning around 6-6:30 am. We still gathered around a tree, picked on each other, had great food, and opened gifts. The event was fun, and we managed to weather emotional storms all in our own ways.
This year, we celebrated at my sister's house. I made 24lbs of country sausage with my nephew, Ethan, and there was an entire smorgasbord of eats that we all stuffed ourselves silly on. Alyssa drew me for Christmas, and gave us one of my favorite stories from the day. "You were taking forever and I wanted to get my Christmas shopping done, so you got a box of Troll band-aids (Cabella's gift card attached)!" I laughed heartily and loudly as I opened the gift and heard the story.
Touche' young pad wan! But more on that little "tradition" in another post.
Traditions changed a little this year on Jessica's side of the family. This year the family did not return to Georgia, but her brother Daniel and his family came to Colorado. We returned to some of the more traditional tidings, having a smoked turkey. Usually we have ham but that was at Thanksgiving. Opening gifts was a animated and disorganized affair, with most of the attention placed on the youngest family members. We all enjoyed catching momentary glimpses of what everyone got, albeit all at the same time. We missed having Paul's family in person with us, although we understand that the health field and the proclivities involved with COVID for many limited our festivities. We also greatly missed celebrating with Granny D, Kristin, Dominic, and Maddy.
My niece and I successfully completed our new annual tradition of making Pumpkin rolls. We had
requests this year to make a gluten free one, and that was an adventure! We ended up making an extra one as well for Jessica's side of the family as well. More on that in the post called "
Pumpkin Rolls 2."
Ultimately a good time was had by all.
On to the grief. I recall my wife asking me a question sometime in the middle of 2019. I had been rather sullen, very quiet, and I mean unusually quiet. She asked me what she could do to make me happy. I looked her straight in the eye and told her that there really wasn't anything that she could do to help me. She didn't really understand this, and still to some degree doesn't. I told her this because I haven't ever made the requirement of her to make me happy. I married her to be my partner, my equal (as equal as men and women can be at least), my confidant, and she is my best friend. Needless to say that I love her. She couldn't understand why I couldn't, or wouldn't, put on a brave face and pretend to be happy. It was simply because I couldn't. No matter what I tried, I couldn't bring myself to shed my sadness. I couldn't pretend for the sake of others that I had overflowing cups of joy to spill over to everyone that surrounded me. Dad was a mechanic by trade. I grew up watching him apply the use of different tools to various things/projects. To give you an idea of where I am compared to the summer just after he left, I couldn't hold ANY tool in my hand without having to deal with emotions. I couldn't look at a toolbox without thinking about him, or my Uncle Skip for that matter, who left us in September of 2017 (Twin Brothers).
If you know me well, you know that I don't hide my emotions well. For me, some things are easier for me to reconcile in silence. It isn't that I don't want or need support from others, it just means that some burdens I wish to not put on others, am just not ready to communicate about, or never want to communicate about. It is a part of my process, and I don't necessarily believe it is necessary to clue everyone in on how that works for me. To be a bit of a girl about it, I want to be asked if I am alright, but I don't always want to say no and follow up with an explanation. I will tell you if I am alright or not though. It is nice to know that sometimes people care. My wife cares a lot. I know she worries about me, and I wish I could bounce back faster for her. I just can't do this as quickly as she hopes.
This brings us to this year, 2020, year of the COVID. I am starting to feel some of the excitement of Christmas coming back. I like most of those feelings, but some are still very dead to me. I still don't want some of the traditional familial reminders of past years. Yes they are all warm memories, and yes, I know one day I will look back at them fondly and with great joy. But there are just some things that I can't handle right now. Things like watching a favorite Christmas movie because when I watch it I can hear my dad's laughter. That hurts more right now than bringing me joy. There are those who are close to me who still can't quantify that. My ONLY response seems to be that it's hard to understand until you lose a parent. It's hard for me to listen to Christmas music for some reason. I can't quite figure it out. I don't hate most Christmas music and I firmly believe that Christmas music should be reserved for the month of December, but I tend to be particular about it during the best of times. "Hippopotamus for Christmas'' is one song that makes me want to push someone through a wall, but aside from that I am OK with the rest. Seriously, who wants a hippo? have you seen what they do with their tails when they poo? No one wants to clean that up.
I know that these issues won't last forever, but I can't repair all of it in one moment, in one year. I know people who are 15 years into the loss of a parent that still struggle, especially around holidays and birthdays. For some people it won't ever change. I think it is why it is so hard for those who haven't experienced it to understand. I loved my grandparents, and always loved seeing them. They still hold a special place in my heart even though all of them left us years ago. I felt very different when I lost them. I was still sad, I still occasionally miss them. As for my dad, I miss him all the time. Everyone has anchors in their lives and sometimes those anchors, when the chains snap, forces you into a tumultuous sea and you just hope you are ready for when the electrical fails, or one of the engines gives out. None of it is easier. It is a part of life though.
I can imagine someone out there saying "God can be that anchor." True, God can. It doesn't necessarily bring comfort though, at least not right away. You see that anchor holds different meanings for me. It doesn't mean that one day that anchor will handle all the other things the "dad" anchor handled and more, but an anchor isn't magically, automatically, or quickly replaced. It takes time.
Bottom line is that no one can put a time frame on grief. To do that to someone, even unintentionally, can cause more harm than good. There is no silver bullet for dealing with grief. Everyone needs to handle it differently, and that can mean things are harder for spouses too. So whatever side of the coin you find yourself on reading this, offer patience, understanding, and as much unconditional love as you can. I am confident that it gets better in some ways. I think I will have to continue on this journey to figure out what all that means.
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