6 Months Down, a Lifetime of Healing To Go

Yesterday marked 6 months since my dad passed away.  It doesn't hurt any less.  It's still hard to believe that he's gone.  I still expect him to call me to check up on the kids or show up for holiday weekends.  I still have trouble talking about him without crying, so for the most part, I don't.  I've internalized a lot of my emotion for the past 6 months.  I evade conversations about it altogether.  Not healthy, but it hurts less this way.  I pull up the videos in my phone from when he was in the hospital before he passed and even though this is the last way I saw him, it's not the person I remember most.  I'm thankful for the memories.  The memories from the last few years were the best because these were the years where I learned to appreciate him more.  It's funny how knowing you're going to  lose someone sooner than you're suppose to can change your relationship. 


The last 6 months haven't been easy.  I started off just being angry. I was angry with God for taking him away.  Angry at Him for making my dad suffer so much in his last 9 month.  Angry because he didn't heal him.  I was just downright angry.

I was angry with my dad because I felt like he wasn't there with me.  You know how people say they can feel their deceased loved ones with them at some point?  I never have.  He's gone and that's just it.  No signs from beyond.  No "Ghost" moments.  No pennies floating through the air.  Nothing.  He is gone and that's all there is to it. 

I've been angry with myself for not making better decisions while he was alive.  The shoulda-woulda-couldas took over.  I shoulda stayed in Georgia and not moved with Arizona, knowing he was so sick.  I took his grandkids away from him and that coulda had a negative impact on him more than we know.  Every time we talked, he asked when we were coming back.  I shoulda had the kids to call more.  I always said I would have them call, but all to often our busy lives took over and they didn't talk to him as much as I wish they had.  I shoulda pushed harder for him to go to the proton treatment center my cousin had recommended.  Coulda made him go somehow.  Shoulda ignored his stubbornness to stay with his doctors and pushed him to get better care.  I know I shouldn't feel guilty, but it's really hard not to.

It doesn't help that the world around me seems to have so much going on.  It doesn't help that I've lost 3 additional family members since then.  It doesn't help that it seems that cancer is impacting so many people's lives around me.  I just want to scream, "ENOUGH, LORD!  I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!"  

But today marks a new era.  A new phase and a count down to one year.  And while I know, it won't always be easy, I'm counting on better days and a road to recovery for me.  I know it will take a long time to heal from the hurt of losing a parent, but I'm hoping that soon I can stop hurting and start healing.