They say that the number one rule in blogging is to not use it as a diary. A diary is a diary and a blog is a blog, never the two shall meet. I’ve been a horrible blogger and even worse at keeping any kind of a diary. Every time I think of writing (which in my defense is almost everyday because the running conversation in my head is always on full throttle), I just think that no one would want to read it, or what I would say would not be readable, entertaining, or intriguing on any level. All that to say, that’s why this space has been blank for so long.
Until today. Today is THE anniversary, and I feel the need to say something to mark the passage of time, although when I think about it, tomorrow is when I’ll probably feel the full impact of it. Late tonight when I may or may not be sleeping, will mark the day that my dad left one year ago. Throughout my entire life we had always been pretty good about checking in with each other regarding major decisions, but on this one, I was definitely out of the loop.
365 days. 52 weeks. 525,600 minutes.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of time over the past few months. It’s a tool. It’s an instrument. Think about it: our universe could have been designed right down to our molecular level to be outside the construct of time, but nothing about our existence can escape the power of it. From the first second, no, from BEFORE the first second of fertilization and life beginning we need time and our very existence depends on, well, perfect timing. We need time in-utero to develop properly and in a coordinated fashion. Our cells need time to regenerate and heal when we sustain injuries or trauma. Every night we need time to be unconscious and horizontal so our bodies can rest at the cellular level and be healthy. Relationships take time to develop. We need time to learn new tasks and jobs. We need time to get into shape or back into shape. Everything about us, everything in our universe takes TIME.
Time of course does not possess any magical qualities. It does not heal all wounds. I actually don’t think it heals anything, but without time we would not have the space of perspective from which we could move forward or “on” with our lives. And on with our lives is exactly what we must do. Every single rotten day. Not every day is truly rotten of course, it’s just rotten that every day roughly 153,424 people die (according to the World Health Organization), and over one year’s time that equals 56 million people. If each of those 56 million people were loved and cherished by just two other people then that amounts to 112 million people who every year have to figure out how to get up, get dressed and function that day knowing they’ll never see their friend, husband, wife, father, mother, or significant person ever again. Time feels heavy.
The Miracle Of Time
Without time none of us would know that we could live through stuff. I’m in a really big club of people who have lived through their “unthinkable” scenario, and then of course there are the millions and millions of people who are experiencing tragedies (accidents, disease, unspeakable emotional and psychological trauma) who may not have a funeral but they’re fighting every bit as hard to get through. Millions of us have wanted to give up, but we haven’t. Yet. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I’m happy about that.
I Give Up
I’m still not okay being alone, and just to clarify, I’m completely fine with that; the part about being fine with not being fine, I mean. I’m just more prone to long crying jags when I find myself alone in the house. Or in the car. Or writing at my laptop in a coffee shop. Or in the grocery store. Ya, “doing okay” is a long way off. Oh well. I had one of those moments a couple of weeks ago when I told God I was giving up, that I just couldn’t go on anymore. It’s not that I wanted to die and leave my kids and my husband, it’s just that I didn’t want to live this life without my dad anymore. And I’m okay with that too. And then I think if I were to ever utter that someone would say, “Uh, grow up!! You’re a grown flipping adult, it’s WEIRD that you’re missing your dad that much. Freak.” And then I immediately jump to the million reasons why my relationship with my dad was extraordinary, and really what the picture of what every parent/child relationship should be, the way God designed us.
The Truth In Time
I’ve seen some stuff during these past 364 days, some of its been pretty awesome and I probably wouldn’t have believed it had I not had to live through it. First and foremost is how my best friend and husband literally carried me through. Honestly though, you would know this about both of them the minute you met them, they’re both obviously incredible. On September 6 of last year I arrived back in the NW (where we had lived with my dad a few years ago) to see my dad through his upcoming scheduled heart surgery. What I walked into at the hospital can only be described as a full frontal emotional assault (I’ll spare you the details). Had my bff not been there to witness everything and stay there with me I would have lost my mind. She drove me to the hospital, or met me at the hospital when I drove, bought me food, brought me food, took me back to my dad’s house, helped me navigate what I was hearing from the doctors and then never left my side after I received the dreaded phone call. She was my oxygen and I am forever humbled by what she did for me. The hubs continues to serve me, and by extension my dad, in every possible way every single day. He’s grown out and stretched himself in a million different ways every day during this year, all the while hurting and aching like a man who lost a person he loved like a father because he did and he hurts deeply every single day. I’ve also seen people from what I thought was my closest sphere fall always from me, and that’s okay. I was fairly prepared for that inevitability as we had been through it before when we became a family with kids with special needs. And although I’ve always been a “collector” of people, not hearing one word from people I would have considered my friends since junior high was a good wake up call for me. They’ve told me a hundred times since that we’re not friends. Equally revealing and much more pleasant have been the few people in my periphery who have stepped up and have been in contact with me. I appreciate them using their time to reach out to me, no matter how brief or seemingly insignificant to the them the effort has been. We can all use time as a gift.
Time Is Cruel
I have nothing pithy or inspiring to close with (and I’m fine with that too). A couple of weeks ago I begged God to let me escape the pain. He didn’t. I’m not as overwhelmed as I was, so don’t worry. No need to call 911 or put me on suicide-watch (I’ve got too many knitting projects to get through first. Plus, who would groom Miss Fatty?). God has been with me every second of these over 525 thousand minutes. He hasn’t left me or abandoned me for one second. A popular bracelet asks, “What Wouldd Jesus Do?”. The Bible tells us that Jesus was deeply compassionate and He was moved to tears, and that He is seated at the right hand of the Father. I don’t doubt for one minute that He’s been weaping with me and for me. The book of Romans it says that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us when we don’t know how to pray. I’ve been clueless for 365 days and I don’t know when that will end, so I’m counting on the Him to continue to carry me and to continue to inspire all my friends to walk with me.
- Posted in: children with disabilities