In The Quiet Moments


* Disclaimer of sorts – This post is a bit of an emotional feely one.  If you are not in the mood for it then it might be best to move on. *

~~~~

Grief.

Is it something that someone can be good at?  Because if it is, I would be declared rather rotten at it.

I know that there are a number of things that I may actually be good at, I can’t think of them, but there must be.  And if I had to make a list of those things I can tell you that “dealing with grief/loss/hurt/pain” is not on there.  It wouldn’t even make the very, very bottom of the list.

I thought I was ready for my Dad to leave us.

We had been preparing ourselves for years.  Well I thought I had.  But I think I was preparing myself in the wrong way.  Distancing myself from him so it wouldn’t hurt so much when it happened and maybe it worked.  Maybe I haven’t had a good cry because of it, but I can’t help but feel sick to the stomach that I should have been there more.  Putting my need to “cope” over his need to feel loved.  What kind of a person am I?

Yes we did things for him and my Mom, tried to include him in everything and financially took on a lot, but was I there for him as a daughter?  I don’t know if I can answer that with a yes.

On the night he passed, I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words out loud to him.  I just kept thinking, ” I love you Dad, I love you Dad, I love you Dad” in the stupid hope that he could feel it.  It’s almost as though saying it out loud would be giving it permission to happen.  Like I even had any control.

Maybe the grief isn’t so bad because we have been grieving all along.  Each time he lost the ability to do something new it affected us all.  Slowly losing the ability to live while still being alive.

Again I ask you, what the hell is wrong with me.

In they hype and busyness of it all I still think of him reading my posts or cuddling up with the heater and watching the rugby or posting funny statuses on Facebook.

Then in the quiet moments my brain connects that thought with the finality, that no, no he won’t.  No, he won’t be reading about the plague of sickness that we are trying to claw our way out of right now, no he won’t be complaining that it’s so cold and that we need to get more heaters and no, there are no updates on Facebook.

Because he is gone.

He really is.

And in those quiet moments, that as a Mom of 3 you don’t really get to experience too often…

In those quiet moments…

 

It hits.

 

10297557_10154246745645565_6442134629791073949_n

9 thoughts on “In The Quiet Moments

  1. Wow that left a tear in my eye…I know its easier said than done BUT don’t be so hard on yourself.As much as it feels to you like you weren’t there as a daughter to your dad I’m sure it felt like he had his little princess by his side till then end.Only advice I can give you is allow yourself to have a good cry for me its the best way to get out all the emotions I am truly feeling…There is a long road to acceptance for your whole family and I wish you all the strength through this time and just remember he will always be with you in spirit

  2. Cindy, you’re always so naturally honest in your blog posts it seems almost impossible for you to have gone any amount of time without showing your dad that you loved him. I know that probably doesn’t change how you feel much, so know also that we are not perfect (and no one knows that better than our parents), and no one is ever really ready for anyone to go. We all desire a little more time, one more conversation, another hug regardless of how much time we spent doing that, and I think that’s normal. You seem to be someone who’s pretty ‘present’ so I have no doubt that you will use this ‘realisation’ to show those you love even bigger love while you can. As for your dad, he’s probably been reading your thoughts and face since the day you were born – I’d bet money on the fact that he knows just how much you love and miss him.
    Wishing you strength for the days ahead…

    • Thank you for your kind words and reassurance! You are right, there is never enough time and no matter what the circumstances are, we will always have wanted to do/say/be more. Here’s to making the most of everyone that we have left! xox

  3. I am very sorry for your loss. And I’m so relieved that you said you couldn’t say ‘I love you’. My brother died just over 2 years ago of cancer. Every time I went to visit I knew it was probably the last time, and I couldn’t bring myself to say the words I love you. I also had it playing in my head over and over and I kept on thinking I have to say something profound, but I never did.

    • It’s such a weird feeling. Knowing you have to, but not being able to bring yourself to actually saying it. Thank you for sharing. xo

  4. I love you” is just a sentence of 3 words. Yes, they are words that are so lovely to hear and say, but the other things you say and do mean so much more…no matter whether in small or big ways, I am sure you showed your dad that you loved him because love is a “doing” thing, not just a saying or a feeling. Feeling the way you do now, thinking the things you are, is completely normal. You are going to beat yourself up a bit and wonder what you could have done differently, heck I did (and still do on random occasions, even 16 years down the line), we all do. We are human, you.are.human and you did what you felt was right at each step of the way. That is all you can do. Strength Cindy. Embrace going through the stages of grief…there is no wrong or right way.

Go on, tell me what you think...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s