I also feel guilty for feeling sad. I know that’s dumb because loss is loss and grief is grief. But when I hear about tragedy in the world, when I think about how some people lose their loved one in such heart-breaking and tragic ways, I do feel badly for asking the ‘why me? Why him? Why us?’ questions.
My mom told me that a friend of hers from Port Ludlow stopped by to see her new place. Mom said this friend ‘still can’t really believe it. He was the healthiest and most active of all their friends.’ “She’s really in shock.”
“Aren’t we all?” I’d said.
Mom’s been so busy – so nonstop since dad died – figuring out managing/hopefully selling properties, taking care of Chris’ needs (filing the required 3 year guardianship report with the court was a completely overwhelming task), moving both Chris and herself. She hasn’t had a second to really process I don’t think.
Next Tuesday, August 26th would’ve been mom and dad’s 47th wedding anniversary. I don’t even know how to help her with that one.
We just celebrated our 13th anniversary on the 11th. Again, these are the moments – the firsts – since dad died; every single event has an undertone of grief for me and it sucks. I just can’t 100% fully celebrate anything. But I do my best.
Rebecca watched the kids for us on the 13th so that we could have a just-us date which was lovely and a much-needed night out. On the 11th, we didn’t have a babysitter so we decided to do something special as a family. We went to the Newcastle Golf Club for dessert and drinks. Shortly after we arrived, Zachary handed me a folded piece of paper. He’d made us a card and brought it with him. It had our names in a heart and a picture of our family holding hands.
We watched and listened to the bagpiper. As he played ‘Amazing Grace,’ the sun turned into a glowing ball of red and fell into the clouds before setting. After the sun set and it grew darker, we were able to watch a little bit of a lightning storm over the hills to the East.
I suppose you could say the sky that night – with the serene sunset on one side and the wild storm in the other direction – was similar to how I’ve felt since dad died. It’s a constant mix with sudden bursts of ugly, angry grief and yet also peaceful acceptance – understanding that the way dad died was beautiful and being thankful for that despite how hard it is.
We've packed a ton into 13 years -- Cancer, pregnancies, preemies, bed rest, adoption, moving, grief...
but always with a heck of a lot of love