He was 60 years old and yes, it was sudden and unexpected.
Grief is a very odd thing.
I have always said, never judge someones actions in grief.
I have seen people fall into the floor in a fit of pain and I have seen people quietly go through their day as if nothing has happened.
There is no right or wrong way to grieve, you just have to get through it.
I did a little of both.
I was so confused when I got the call, I don't think I understood that my father was dead.
I must of sounded alarmed because a co-worker and my boss were standing over me. I turned to them and said "I think my father's dead"
Just like that....."I think my father's dead"
no panic, no tears just confusion.
I wasn't sure if he was dead, my step-mother was crying and said he was on the floor and then she was gone.
As my thoughts started to clear I realized he may be alive.
It was then I began to panic, what if I miss his last moments.
He could be dying now and I may miss him.
I may miss holding his hand, saying I love you, telling him I forgive you.
I did not know if I should go to the house or to the hospital.
That sent me into a bit of a tizzy.
I called the house and a neighbor picked up.
"Where are they taking Dad?" I asked
She said they had not moved him yet.
I was so confused I did not understand what she was saying.
"What do you mean?"
"The coroner is with him"
The shock and pain was so intense it knocked me off my feet.
My boss and someone else grabbed me before I hit the floor.
They put me into a private office, turned out the light and closed the door.
I remember being curled up on the carpet.
I wasn't really crying.
I was in too much pain to cry.
It was a Tuesday..................
I had spoken with my father Sunday night.
He was coming down to see my new place over the weekend.
I was making lemon chicken with capers for dinner and I was going to pick up those blue-cheese stuffed olives he likes so much.
We would walk over to the square after dinner and have a drink.
He was going to love Brickstore, that was his kinda place.
It was on the calendar.......................
It was a horrible week.
There were moments I thought I was going to lose my mind.
If one more person hugged me and asked me if I was okay I was going to flip out.
No, I am NOT okay.
Remember that.........don't ask anyone if they are okay when someone has just died.
Ask them if they need you to do the laundry or pick something or someone up.
Ask them if they need a hug or a snuggle or to hit something.
But just assume that they are not okay, because they aren't
The worst part was the cremation.
My Father wanted to be cremated.
I have no issues with that.....I want to be cremated too......I think.
It was fine, I saw my fathers body, I knew he was gone, it is what he wanted.
I was sleeping in his bed, on his side of the bed, I could still smell him, he was still there.
It was late, I logically knew it had already happened but my brain and my heart
just kept saying "They are burning my Daddy"
It started out like a whisper, but as the statement kept playing in my head
it turned into a scream.
"THEY ARE BURNING MY DADDY"
My heart was pounding and I broke out in a cold sweat.
The house was full of friends and family. It was quiet but I knew those who were sleeping were just on the edge, any noise would have sounded the troops.
That was not what I wanted, not what I needed.
There are times in life where the comforting touch of others is like fire on the skin.
When the hurt is so intense that you must fall into the abyss alone.
This was my pain, I did not want to share it with anyone but my Dad.
My wise and wonderful father had installed a steam room some years earlier. It was great, all sealed in, you could hear nothing once inside and barely anything if you were outside.
Safe haven, the steam room.
I quickly jumped out of bed, careful not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.
I don't know how I did it.
I am blind as a bat on a good day.
Put me in a unfamiliar place with no light, I'm like one of those blind moles, head up, moving on touch and smell only.
I usually knock over everything and make a mess, but not this time.
I made it to the steam room.
Closed the door behind me. I managed somehow to activate the damn thing.
I curled myself into a ball against the slowly warming tile and wailed in the dark.
It is not crying, it is wailing.
It's not really a sound, it's something that comes from that place deep inside.
It's ancient and guttural.
I don't know how long I was in the steam room but by the time I came out
the hot water was gone and I was pruned from head to toe.
I know I was found out, the house was stirring and I could smell coffee and bacon.
Have you ever noticed how much food is in the house when someone dies.
It's funny, no one eats, but someone is always cooking or bringing food.......strange ritual.
I miss my Dad all the time.
My Father was one of those rock kind of guys.
You could count on him, no matter what.
If he said he would do it, it was done.
Its hard to lose anyone, but to lose someone like that is exceptionally hard.
I don't know why this anniversary is weighing so heavy.
Maybe it's that I am now out of my depression and can actually feel things.
Maybe it's because it's come full circle.
Who knows, all I know is it's a bad time, I don't feel well.
Everything is right on the surface, I do stupid things, make stupid mistakes.
I just hurt and no one can really comfort me.
I miss my Dad.......
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