Three Weeks Later

It's been three weeks since we said our final good byes.  The days go so slow and finding purpose in my days is a challenge.  I still go to cal you, morning and night, checking the clocks to see if it is time or if I am late.  Sometimes I still call, just to hear your voice on the message saying you can't get to the phone.
Last night I had such a vivid dream, though I know not of it's meaning.  It was Easter, a Holiday of celebrating re-birth.  I was home in my childhood neighborhood.  The church that was once across the street on the hill, that is now a Masonic Lodge, was a church again.  Crowds of people were gathering for Easter services and activities.  Family  members hiding Easter Eggs for a hunt that would happen later.   So many people gathering to celebrate a Holy Day.  I drove around the block, over and over again, past our house, but no one was ever home.  No car in the driveway, no main front door open and you standing at the storm door awaiting our arrival, no sign of life at all.  What struck me though was how bright WHITE everything was.  Everyone was wearing white and there was such a brightness and clarity to everything.  It frightened me, it was all so familiar but yet all so strange.  I just continued driving around the block, waiting for something to change, for some sign of life at my childhood home.  I watched everyone else and marveled at how happy and at peace they all were and wished I could stop, get out of my car and join them.  But I couldn't, I didn't belong.
I finally woke from that dream and remembered it so vividly.  All day I thought of  it and thought I had best write it down in hopes it would then leave my conscious and subconscious being.  It's clarity has haunted me all day and made me uncomfortable.
Three weeks have passed since I said my last good byes to you.  Three weeks of trying to understand that I will never see you on this earth again, that you will never be coming home to your things, will never complain to me again about all the solicitors that call you and all the junk you get in the mail.  Three weeks of not having been able to say good-bye the way I would want to say good-bye when I know it is the last time I will ever be able to say it again.  I wish you had come to me in that dream, i wish you had been standing in the doorway or driven up in your car.  I wish you never left and I wish I never had to say good-bye.

PS......please tell mom I love her and miss her oh so very much.

Using my Art

Everyday the mail brings more forms to fill out and mail back.  More ugly ways to remember my dad is no longer here with us.  When my mom passed, this didn't happen, but now that they are both gone, the paper work doesn't end.  Reading a Will that is written in the first person and hearing my dad's voice as I read words he would never actually speak in the real world is something I just can't bring myself to do.  I made it through less than half way, of the first paragraph and broke down sobbing. Not sure I will ever go back and read that paper......instead I handed it to Robby and asked him to just tell me what it is I need to do.

Through it all, I turn to the things that help me the most, my art and my family.  I am trying really hard to stay on top of my emotions and not let myself slip into a state that requires medication to get me out of.  Been there, done that, really don't want to re-visit that ugly place again.  Today, I made this entry in a journal I am doing for an on-line art class called "Kingdom Come".  I love the words to the song that accompanied the lesson and decided to include them in my journal entry.  This song continues to play over and over again in my head.  I believe it may just help.

 Oceans

Where Feet May Fail

Tiny, Small Steps

One week and two days ago, I lost my daddy.  I spoke to him on the phone early on a Friday morning and 30 minutes later, he was gone.  Just like that, in a blink of an eye, poof.  Just like my mom almost exactly 3 years ago.  And poof, just like that, my life, and that of my three brothers, has been changed forever.  How to move forward is the struggle I am dealing with now.  My daddy and I were always very close, but after the death of my mom, we became even closer.  He understood the pain in my heart from losing my mom, and I in return, understood the complete emptiness that he felt in his entire being, from losing the woman he had spent 58 years of his life beside.  I told him all the time, I did not know how he got up every morning and continued to move through his life and be productive.  But he did, day in and day out.
Some days, all he did was walk over to his workshop, turn on his Bose Radio that he was so proud of, listen to country music and sit in a chair.  No woodworking would be done, just reminiscing of a better time, a better life.  Other days,  he would be very productive, working for tedious hours on his clocks that he had become famous for.  Beautiful, wooden clocks that he made with love for friends, family and no one in particular.  They were a huge source of frustration for him, but also a huge source of diversion.  With his mind fully engaged on the building of the clocks, he had little room for thoughts of a love lost.  Though I am sure, she was always there, waiting in the wings for a moment to slip into a thought or two.  Perhaps there was a gentle nagging from her that he shouldn't be in the shop working with  power tools all alone.  Or perhaps she reminded him that he hadn't stopped to eat lunch and that it was getting late.
I called my daddy everyday, twice a day and on occasion, a few extra times in between.  I go to the phone to call him even now or realize I haven't called him and know he is going to be worried.  Then it hits me like the sting of freezing cold water when you plunge into an ice bath, he isn't there.  There is no one to call.  I call his phone anyway, just to let the answering machine or voicemail answer so I can hear his voice.  His voice that tells me he can't get to the phone right now, but if I leave him a message,  he will get back to me when he can.  It isn't true, but I listen anyway and then I weep.
There is a lot to be done still.  Things that didn't need to be done when my mom died.  There is an estate to handle and close up.  There are items to be divided and given away.  Soon, the only home I ever knew growing up, will be sold to a total stranger and I will never have that home to go back to.  The home my parents loved and cherished will never be the same.  No one could possibly love that home as my parents did or take care of it as well.  It will be sad to someday drive by and see that it is in need of work or that the lawn has grown full of weeds and in need of mowing.
I don't know how I will work through all of the emotions I am going through right now.  I imagine I will turn to this blog to write thoughts that no one really wants to read, but that I need to get out of my head.  I will probably create art, that no one will really want to see but that will help me express some of the ugly, depressing thoughts that are racing through my mind.  I will cry more tears which I didn't think was possible and I will spend time alone because it is better than having to be in a crowd.  I signed up for a year long art class on line today with Juliette Crane, called Serendipity 2.  Her art speaks to me through her whimsical creatures and girls.  Their faces speak to me with their thoughtful eyes and I am drawn to them.  I figure it will be a great way for me to express some of what is inside of me, without having to tire everyone with listening to me.
Tomorrow I will return to my job, not by choice, but by necessity.  My allotted time of "bereavement" is up.  How someone is able to put a number on the amount of days it takes to grieve the loss of a loved one, is beyond me.  Little children who have no idea what death is or the painful ache it leaves in your soul, will embrace me with their tiny arms, call out my name and pounce on my lap.  And in their best attempts to make me forget the reality of my life, they will make me smile and laugh, if only for a moment.  Tiny, small steps are all I can take right now.  And usually there is a long pause between steps.  It's all I can do.  I am in unchartered waters and know not of what is right or wrong.