Here Goes...

Sunday marked one year since my Dad passed away. It was a hard day for me in a lot of respects. The last few months my grief switched from sadness, to being extremely ticked off, and most recently a lot of the anger has subsided at its easier to just remember the good stuff. The anger has switched to just feeling sad that he missed so much, that his choices led to him not being able to follow his own dreams.

On vacation I thought so much about one of the last things we talked about was his desire to go to Hawaii. In fact he still thought he was going to heal up and go there just weeks before he passed. It ticks me off that he never got the opportunity to do so. I thought while I was on vacation about how much he would have loved it there. I wished he would have been able to see more of the world. I wished he was still here and I could have shared with him all that I had seen.

The years before he died were full of unfortunate encounters between the two of us. It led to me having to cut contact with him completely. It was so hard but It was what I had to do. This caused him to lash out at me in very painful ways. Usually with words that are stil hard to shake sometimes. But I know now it all stemmed from his own hurt. I know he loved me in his own way. I just wish this could of been resolved before it was to late.

Its hard to be a woman and make your own decisions and to live with all of the repercussions even if the decisions were made out of pure intentions. Its hard to make decisions that affect more than just you in a negative way. Its hard to be sorting through emotion and feeling and questions on your own, its confusing really, especially when the other person is no longer here to sort it out with.

When I was unpacking my sisters closet when she moved into her new house recently I found that she had salvaged all of my dads fishing sweatshirts(my dad was a commercial fisherman). When I picture my Dad I picture him in a fishing sweatshirt with a hat on and a pair of jeans:) He would get a new sweatshirt each fishing season marked with the harbor name they docked in. As I unpacked them I cried in her little closet and I mourned a loss I hadn't quite realized I had experienced. You see when you cut yourself off from someone its is assumed that you will feel no sadness. That you no longer feel a connection. And I can say that I allowed myself to be put in a bracket of not caring about what had happened in order to appear strong to those who needed me. The truth is I lost something a long time before he passed away and I hadn't mourned properly then, so I suppose I am just doing that a bit now.

That happy part is that God has given me the ability to separate the good from the bad. The fact that I can miss the good now is progress made to a healed heart. I couldn't do that before.