It’s absolutely astounding what you learn from tragedy. You can embrace mind boggling concepts as you have now walked through the fire. You can see life on a different spectrum than others. Especially, if you have a life that is constantly throwing rocks, you have no choice but to learn how to handle it all.
My father died this morning. Exactly six months and four days after the passing of my husband. This will be the most difficult year of my life.
My father was a good man. He had a gentle soul and a strong will. He was awkward but hysterical. He could make anyone laugh. He struggled with life like the rest of us but he would put forth as much as he knew how. Some days I was a bit unforgiving about his lack of presence. And other days I was just happy to have him around.
It’s crazy to realize I won’t ever be able to talk to him, again. I can’t ask his sound advice or laugh at his jokes. I won’t hear him tell me, “I’m your dad and that’s what dads are for!” His caring was genuine and authentic, albeit inconsistent. I feel as if, at times, he was afraid of the vulnerability it required. Being there for us took a lot of effort on his part and it only happened later. I’m grateful it happened at all. I learned about my father as a person and it gave me the ability to move past what I viewed as negative and learn to accept my father for all that he was. Not just what I deemed positive.
He will leave a Brawny Man sized hole in our lives. My mother says she’s fine, but, like my sister, I know this will all feel differently later. It takes time for the mental numbness to subside. I may not be as strong as I wish I could be for them when it all starts to become real. I hope I can dig deep to be the strength they will need.
I, too, will go through, yet another, ass-kicking life lesson. At least this time I know what one of them is. Fuck everyone. Not in the angry way it sounds, mind you. But in the freeing way I know it to be. As I said earlier, it’s astounding what you learn from tragedy.
One of the things I’ve learned this time, and will finally accept, is this is MY journey. I cannot expect anyone to understand it, appreciate it’s severity, or walk it with me. I really must do this, all of this, alone. That’s fucking frightening. But I have no choice but to accept it.
I love you, dad. I’m honored to be your daughter. Thank you for imparting your experiences and wisdom so that I may brave this long road ahead. I won’t let you down.
Okay tired feet. One in front of the other. Let’s go…
The Rhythm of Her 