Fifty-one weeks

Since the death of my father.
My dad died.
My father is dead.
Oh my God.
Its so final.
How could this happen? I just talked to him on the phone one day
And the next he was gone.
All over.
Where did you go?
Where are you?
Please don't go.

The finality of this is just hitting me so hard. I cant stop crying this week. Today is the worst day of all.

Pictures and memories
are all I have of you now
no family dinners
or other celebrations

but what really would have been there
another twisted sad event
as so many of them before
when would we have had you
the REAL you to be with
or your distressed,
self destructive, evil twin?

Why did fate
deal us such a final decision
let us trust God
that all is right, all is correct, all is well

Memories of a curly little girl in the 70's
crazy about her dark haired daddy
running through my mind
those days over forever

They really were over before
I'm grown up now
But now its so real, so final
Memories of the past
Bringing not happiness, but pain

When will the sharpness
of the grief
fade into something more mellow
no anxiety to greet me
as I remember the past

maybe never, anxiety was always there
fear, uncertainty, instability
A girl, never confident in the world
can't sleep, can't get any peace

I can only buffer
the sadness, insecurity, anger
for my own little girl
to fall in love with her own daddy
but she has to learn feminine grace and dignity
from a Mom so hollow and scared and insecure

One foot in front of the other
self parenting in full bloom
You can do it
You are doing it
You are fine
All is well
Breathe
Breathe

Grieve the loss
then live is what you once said
I'm still grieving
I'm trying to live
I now realize, both will happen at the same time
its not a two step process.

its about incorporating
this new reality
in every activity, every thought, every moment.
its now reality that we carry
its hard
we're getting better at it
but we still carry it
every single day.

I miss you Doots, and I love you. I know you sometimes doubted it
But I always did.
I was so mad becuase I saw you being so awful to yourself
And I figured you always deserved so much more.

I just wish I could hear your voice right now.
Listen to your floppy slippers on the floor
the clinking of ice in your glass
the clearing of your throat

the sounds of every day life
we take for granted
until they're gone.
then we'd give anything, everything we have
to hear it again.
Such is the life of a survivor.

Surviving what?
I think the dead are the lucky ones.
No grief for them, no pain, no loss, no heartbreak.