Grief is a Nasty Animal

I am NEVER this open.  Ever.  But I think that our society likes to bury grief because it's ugly and uncomfortable.  We don't know how to process it, and treat it as a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of our shoe that we just want the hell off.  So, this is what is on my heart and in my head today.  If you have a friend that is hurting, just be there for them.  You don't even have to talk or feel pressure to say "the right thing."  Just be.

Here is a peek inside of my 7 year old wound...

I was getting off of I35 and onto 1604 in San Antonio when my cell phone rang.  I grumbled at my phone - who could possibly be calling when I was exiting on that curvy beast of an exit?  I saw the caller ID and smiled.

Me: Hey Daddy!
Him: Are you almost home, little girl?
Me: Yessir.  I have about 45 minutes left. (It took me 6 hours to drive from his front door to mine.)
Him: Ok, I just wanted to check on you...it was good to see you...maybe when you come up for Thanksgiving we can go to the boats?
Me: It was good to see you too, Daddy!  Of course we can go to the boats!  I'm looking forward to it!
Him: I'll let you go so you can concentrate on driving.  Be sure to buy Sissy dog a bone with some of your WAM. (Walking Around Money)
Me:  Ok Daddy, I will.  I'll talk to you soon!  I love you!
Him: I love you, too, angel.  Bye bye.
Me: Bye Daddy.

That is the last time I ever talked to him.  You see, I had gone up for a visit at the end of August in 2010.  My Daddy was very ill by that time.  He had COPD and had done very little to halt its progress.  He hated doctors and was a stubborn as a mule.  I knew for a fact that he wasn't remotely well enough to go to the boats (the boats is Texas speak for the casinos in Louisiana).  But, that was one of his very favorite things to do.  This time, I didn't argue with him or tell him that he needed to get better so he would feel like making the trip like I usually did.  I just agreed with him.  I lied.  I think part of me knew.

Not too long after that, I was in my kitchen in Bandera cooking dinner for Robert when my sister called.  My Daddy was gone.  

Some days, I'm fine.  

Losing your Daddy at the ripe old age of 33 is hard.  It's even harder when you don't really have anyone to talk to about it.  My family has never been huge on talking things out you see.  Instead, you suck it up, slap a smile on your face, and you move on.

Some days, nothing will do to keep the smile in place.  

Today is one of those days.  You see, my Daddy's birthday is today.  And I can't bake him a ridiculous coconut cake or oatmeal raisin cookies or give him a silly card or hug him or tell him I love him or any of those things.  For whatever reason, today is hitting me a lot harder than usual.  My TimeHop is evidence that in the past, I've celebrated the fact that he shared a birthday with Dr. Seuss and also with Texas Independence Day.  There's no celebration in me today.  Maybe it's because I've been home alone all week with my thoughts.  Maybe it's because I'm approaching a milestone birthday.  Who knows.  Hell, I'm no psychiatrist. 

I guess I said all of that to say this:  If you still have the awesome privilege of having your daddy around, please go hug him for me.  Tell him you love him. 

And if you've lost your daddy, please know that I understand.  Some days are ok and you smile or laugh at a passing memory.  Then there are the days that you cry for any and every reason.  Both of these are perfectly ok.  

Grief is in fact a nasty animal.  You think it's all cool and just chilling in the corner, then it comes at you full force and flattens you smooth out.  I think you have to give yourself days to mourn and cry it out.  Today is my day for that.

"The trouble is, you think you have time."  Buddha

You do not have time, my friends.  Seize every single second that you're given because I assure you that it is a gift.

Love to you always...and I truly do love you.

Sunny