I’ve been trying to write about this for a few weeks now—mostly because I feel like I need to, and the poems just weren’t coming out the right way. Neither was a blog post exactly, but here we are, take four or five of the same story I’ve been reliving in my mind. We just need to get this out apparently.
So here’s the deal. It is lent. Not because Jesus died, my Dad did. A fact I’m sure you’re aware of. Now, I think highly of my Dad, but for clarification sake—I do not think he is the Lord. Now that we’ve settled that, let’s go. Lent, in the Christian calendar, is essentially a count-down to Jesus dying. My older brother is a pastor so if you need more information on that, please see him. The parallel is coming now: the beginning of September marked the beginning of my dating life two years ago. When my Dad died that November, I was still dating the original dater (what a fun name; let’s keep that). I don’t know if this was the reason, or because I used dating as an avoidant coping mechanism after my Dad passed, but my brain wraps the two up in each other. Dating, and death that is. A rather funny combination when you think about it. Awkward and uncomfortable at the very least. Now, I could tell you the whole long drawn-out-over-a-few-months story, or I can tell you this. I walked blindly into a set up in early September of 2016 and went along with it. We dated for a few months, and then my Dad died. When you’re 21 and new to dating and he’s 26 and emotionally incapable of more than “Oh shit” (the exact response I received when I told him), things don’t last long after death. October was so filled with optimism and happiness—for me, for my dating life, for this country. Yes, I should note that on October 21st 2016, I voted (for my first time in a presidential election) for Hillary Clinton. I had such high hopes for my life. I had no idea everything—and I mean everything—would come to a crashing halt before immediately thrusting into reverse. So now, two years later, I see September and I am grateful for the start of fall, for new opportunities and adventures, for a new chapter. But I am simultaneously reminded of where I was two years ago. Where I could have been now. I look back and smile at all my dating firsts. I wonder how differently things would have gone sans Dead Father. I think about how I had a plan for after graduation, how differently things have turned out since. I wonder what path I would currently be on. September just feels like the beginning of a count-down in the calendar year. It is the first time November 3rd feels close again, even though it is always right in front of me. So let me tell you a few things now. First, I am happy. I am teaching; I am learning; I am writing. I am very content with where I am and I am proud of the work I have done to get here. Second, I am still, and will always be grieving. It feels less like a boulder crushing my entire body than it does a brick I carry around in my backpack. Someday, it will be a worry stone I carry in my pocket. I still talk about my Dad every day. I’m not sure that will ever stop. I’ll wrap up with this. We have officially entered the difficult part of the year for me. Please be patient with me, with your grieving people, with yourself. We are all just trying to make it. September is here, November is inevitable, and I am still standing.
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May 2018
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