Missing D

He's gone. He's really gone. As in, like, gone gone.

I know I said my goodbyes in February, but I find myself wishing that I had been there closer to the end... to say goodbye when he was actually on his way out. I know it's silly, but... maybe I just wish that I could have seen him again.

Then again, it's not the frail, sickly D that I miss. It's the robust, ruddy, mischievous twinkle in his eye D that I miss. I miss "Ay-a-yellow-filly-havayeeee" and Friday night worships with two guitars and lots of harmony. I miss special musics and Farmer's Markets and picking strawberries together in the cool dampness of the morning. I miss following him around the garden and learning so, so much from him. I miss starting seedlings together, and the funny instruction sheet he left for me, and the pride I took in being the first seedling babysitter to keep the plants alive (and healthy!). I miss the silly jokes, the birthday song that he wrote for me, and the solid advice and keen Biblical perspective. I miss the male voice in our nightly "Our Father". I miss, "Does anyone have anything they'd like to share?" from morning worships.

Oh god, I miss him so much!

And what sucks is that no one recognizes me as a grieving family member... Well, that's not true. C and the girls do, of course, but they get all these "We're so sorry" and "We're praying for you" condolences, but... I'm hurting too! It's not that I want the words, it's that I want the recognition that he was someone special to me, and I'd like to think that I was someone special to him too. He was a father to me. I've lost a dad, one of the only good ones I've ever known, and much too soon. I was looking forward to receiving advice on life, marriage, and gardening for years to come, and to introduce my kids to one of the wisest men that I know. I was looking forward to continued jokes and learning about gardening from him as I started my own for the first time.

The grieving comes and goes. I cried a lot yesterday morning, but once I got to work I stopped crying and got busy... and then I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop doing stuff. I finally forced myself to lie down and do deep breathing around 9:30. I know I overdid it, but whatever. I just took extra painkillers and called it good. I didn't even wake up in pain this morning, which was really strange for me. A rare experience. Sure, as the day wears on the pain creeps in and crescendoes, but again... extra painkillers.

Today I was just kinda numb (and exhausted)... until I heard a song on the radio. And then I started blogging and the tears just won't stop now.

I know that he's not suffering, sick, or in pain any longer, and that gives me intellectual peace... but it doesn't stop the hurt.

My heart is broken.

Not to mention that a young friend from church that I grew up with was shot and killed yesterday. Two in one day. That was hard. I mean, I watched this kid grow up. We were friends. I sang at his 8th grade graduation. We went hiking together last fall. And now he's gone. At only 19.

Life is sobering. It's beautiful, if your eyes are open, but it's also somber and uncertain. What an exquisitely painful mix that is.

When I packed up some stuff from the apartment on my way home from work, I found a jar of grape juice that D canned. I hadn't opened it yet, because I was waiting for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is it... I'm going to open it and drink to his memory... and cry all the while.

I miss my father. Life isn't fair. And cancer sucks.

Here's the song I heard on the radio. I'm going to post it on J and K's Facebook pages... I think it will be meaningful for them, too.

2 thoughts:

  • Jolene | May 29, 2013 at 10:50 PM

    Cassandra dear. I can feel your grief. I understand your frustration too. I can't imagine how lonely that must feel. You were very special to dad. He had a tender love for you. You held a special place in his heart. I just want you to know that no matter how things go from here out, you were loved by a wonderful man who was (though awkwardly, at times) proud to be your "father." :') I love you. Hang in there, sis.

  • Optimistic Existentialist | May 30, 2013 at 4:35 AM

    This was a very very moving tribute. Made me quite emotional to be honest...

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