first, i am a Christian. i believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ and i
believe that i will spend eternity with him in heaven. i believe the Holy Spirit lives inside
me. i believe God is my Father and wants
a relationship with me.
second, i believe that grief HURTS and that doubt is
okay. i believe that pain is real and
that anxiety is not an affliction of the weak.
third, i believe that as Christians we are guilty of using
trite, feel-good expressions of support that undermine the grief people feel
when they lose a part of themselves.
in august 2015 my father was diagnosed with stage 4 lung
cancer. he lived 8 months and left this
earth on april 14, 2016. a little
background: i’m 42, single, never
married, a college graduate, a small business owner, an animal lover, a music
lover, a book hoarder (i own a used book store) and a terrible guitar player. i’m a loner, a near-hermit, i can go days
(weeks) without other people and as long as i have my pets and my books i’m fine. this blog is my clumsy way of working though
some of the things in my life post-flood, post-PTSD diagnosis, post-learning to
live life with sometimes crippling anxiety.
daddy was my all-time favorite person. i’m southern and we southern girls are born
and raised to worship our daddies. he wasn’t
perfect but he was sure wonderful. he had
4 kids and he lived his life so that he could be there for us whenever and
however we needed him.
when he died i felt, and feel, utterly lost. this world, which makes little sense to me
anyway, makes NO sense now. i was in the
process of opening my bookstore in the last months of his life. he wanted to see me open. he didn’t but he did get to see the space and
be there as we painted and prepared. he
saw pictures and was so thrilled for me.
i postponed the opening but was open about 3 weeks after his death.
i now work 3 jobs. since
he died, i spoke at his memorial service, opened the store, moved, filed bankruptcy and
finally had a break down. a couple of weeks
ago i had numerous panic attacks in a 3 day span and couldn’t get out of bed
let alone get to work. i spent those 3
days crying in bed and avoiding everything and everybody i could. when asked, i told people i missed daddy so
much i was physically sick. what i heard
was: "he’s in a better place", "he was a
Christian", "he was in pain – you wouldn’t want him back in pain would you?", "he
loved you", "you’ll see him again", etc, ad nauseam.
i know all these things.
what i want acknowledged is this:
when someone precious dies the person left behind grieves in their own
way. what i want people to hear is that
all these things (while true) DON’T HELP ME AT ALL. see, his pain in over BUT MINE ISN’T. he’s in heaven, BUT I’M STUCK HERE IN THIS
COLD, HARD WORLD WITHOUT HIM. my grief
is for ME. yes, there are times when i grieve
for the things he will miss – seeing his grandchildren grow up, seeing the new
peyton manning commercial, seeing hillary clinton wipe up the floor with donald
trump in november – but what i really grieve is what i lost.
if i ever do get married, he won’t be with me, when i’m sick
he’s not here to take care of me, when one of our favorite M*A*S*H episode is
on I CAN’T CALL HIM! I DON’T WANT TO
HEAR how selfish i am to grieve. grieving
is not selfish, it isn’t weak. it isn’t
something to be glossed over by saying things like “it gets better.” maybe it gets better for others but right now i can’t
guarantee it’ll get better for me. he’s
only been gone 5 months and i have every right to feel how i feel.
again, if you don’t know what to say, just say, “i’m sorry.”
i will glory in seeing daddy in heaven but while i’m still
on this hostile planet i will miss him every day. i will grieve for what i lost. and i damn
sure won’t apologize for it.
grace and peace and grief