Day of the Dead

This past month at Church has been about Death. I've never been somewhere where death is spoken to so directly and beautifully. Some days I can believe that my father is in each whisper in the wind, the rain that flows down, and each flower and piece of nature surrounding me. I felt it today. And yet there is such a deep emptiness, a deep sense of trauma, of unfairness that I can't shake. It builds a wall between myself and the world. I can't describe how deeply alone I feel most days, how deeply I wish I could dig a hole and cry. And yet during the day of the dead ceremony no tears flowed. I can feel that there is so much I want to express. I wish I could say that it is okay that it's taking me so long to grieve. But I feel as though I am letting my father down. I can feel the anger brew, I feel stuck in three years ago. The moment you receive a call like that there is no erasing it. It replays in my head over and over again. My brother crying on the phone in a way that no one can understand. My mother asking what she should do with the body. Then asking me to decide if I wanted to see him. God, I still don't know if I made the right decision. Maybe it would have brought it home. There were so many decisions that I had no capacity to make. And now all I want is some peace in my heart. I want to speak to him again. I would give almost anything to talk to my father again. I miss him terribly. I miss him in my bones. And I feel so conflicted inside. Between whether I should or shouldn't. It eats at my bones. Maybe we did have an unhealthy relationship, maybe maybe maybe. I don't know. The intensity of what I feel cannot be described. I look at all I've been through in the last three years and I want to scream at the unfairness. The unfairness to my family. The unfairness of life. And yet I see beauty, it filters in. I feel it. I witness it. But the time now feels so internal. I don't really want to be touched. I don't want to be held. The time has passed and now I witness the anger that runs through my heart. Wishing so deeply to be seen and heard in the real way. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want sympathy. I want you to see me as human, a wounded being that truly just wants to be loved for where I am. To honor my soul's journey. And I realize not everyone is able to do this. Many people do not have the capacity to step outside of themselves.

And I just pray that my mother will heal. That we will all heal from the inside out. And learn how to find the beauty in the world again.

My Grief is Only Mine

Today in Church we discussed "A Grief Observed". She described how our grief is only ours. No one can truly understand what we feel, what we gain, or what we lose from loss. The depth of feeling that still exists inside of me after 2 and half years without my father is indescribable. By expressing that you understand how I feel, what I am going through, that you know what I need. You have pushed me away. I just lost a friend for this reason. There are other friends that seem to be afraid of grief, of my grief. All I really want is to be seen for where I am really at. The truth. The fear. The avoidance. The deep hurt that I am truly alone. The feeling of false empathy, sympathy, when a person's actions don't align with their words. I turn my back because I barely know how to sit in what is called grief. And I feel as though what's happened is that all many many of my relationships were forced to changed. Because my perspective on the world is permanently changed. I am still a young woman. I am too young for all of this to have happened. I have not figured out how to rebound, how to rebound back from the trauma. Maybe mostly because I feel overwhelmed by it. I feel so overwhelmed by the trauma to both my parents. But what I know is that my father was a rock in my life and without him I am being forced to learn how to live.

There was something else the reverend spoke to today about being a ghost. I feel as though I don't have permission to be a ghost that my friends wanted me to be someone I wasn't. That they wanted/want me to snap out of it. And because I've been unable to I'm lost in the wilderness. I still crave the friend that would make me dinner, bring me dinner, call just ask how I am. The friend that can handle the deep sadness that exists inside my well. And all I can wonder is what would it have been like if I'd been able to say goodbye. What would it have been like to be able to tell my father just how much I loved him. And now I wonder what would be like to live his legacy? What would be like to stand upon a mountain top and breathe in the clear, crisp air? What would be like to be adventurous?

And yet when I find the silence. I see the change I see how much I have changed. How I've had to let go of people that aren't able to support me in this depth. And I see that I have a unique perspective. That I may have a gift to offer those in grief when I reach the other side. Because truth be told I need to cry, I need to scream, I need to be held deeply in my grief.

And Dad I truly hope you are singing in the angel's choir, I hope you are telling jokes, watching us all the while. Know that I am trying to move through but the ache of missing you pulls on me. I regret not calling you, if I had known I would have called. If I had known I would have gone skiing with you. I know this sounds unrealistic. But if I had known there is so much I would have shared with you. In death I know see that there is a chance still to have you in my life.