Father's Day

I felt today coming all week.
Two years ago to this day I lay on the floor at my mother's home and howled. But you didn't come as I truly believed you would.
I have had terrible dreams all week. Dreams of death, dreams of fear, dreams of trying to protect. I couldn't protect you, Dad. My beloved father.

I try not to think of your pain anymore, but I still see my mother's. She is so brave, dad. So brave. What will I do when her turn come? Oh this life is so full of pain. I wish that I could've taken yours away. I wish I could take hers away.

You were a good man. You were loved. I don't think that you always knew these truths. Whatever wrongs you did in your life, you atoned for. Oh my dad, I miss your voice.
I was privileged to care for you as you died, but I wish it wasn't so.

I had a dream where all that happened overwhelmed me and I ran away from it all, ran back in time to before. But then I realised that it would happen all over again and I couldn't bear it.

Father's day always fills me with grief. It's just a day like any other. But I feel envious of others who didn't lose you. Our little world fell apart, you see. When we lost you. We are still re-building. It's true what they say; life goes on. But you never get over it. I lost something so sweet when I lost you. It will never come back. The ache for it will always remain. But I thank God for it, and for the gifts he has given since. You always knew God and so do I. What a beautiful love. When I cared for you and held you in the very same way you did when I was a tiny child. I would not be so selfish to bring you back again if I had the power. I know that you are free, that the pain of life you suffered is gone. Still, of course it hurts without you. But I know you are waiting and watching and loving. I hope I make you proud. I hope I find peace. I hope mom feels your love every day. I hope Rory knows how much you loved him. He is such a good man, dad. He is the best of you. He is your gift to this world.

Sometimes I feel so tired, but life brings me joy. You brought me joy, dad. You still do.

Happy Father's Day from your daughter xx

Make me a channel of your peace.
Death is my greatest fear. The loss of those I love. Having only had the death of my wonderful father to relate to, I fear experiencing that pain again.
Watching my dad die nearly tore me apart. No one explains the way grief can strip you down to your most vulnerable; how the pain of a loss can leave you tattered and on the brink of survival. Perhaps I underestimate myself and my own strength, but I feel that I barely survived losing my dad.
I lost over a stone in weight. Then I became bulimic - the purging allowed me to feel momentarily that I was ridding myself of the awful sick monster of grief that had nestle in my stomach and sought to pull me apart. I became dependent on drugs; oh yes my biggest shame, the very thing that would devastate my dad. But he wasn't there. He wasn't there anymore.

I am no longer bulimic or an addict. I never regained the weight that I had lost. I feel much older than my years. I become tired easily. But despite the sporadic, back-and-forth of the grieving process that still goes on, I have adjusted to life after loss. To life after trauma.

But wait, there's more. Anticipatory grief still remains. I know my mother will die. And others too.
So I stand like a tiny ship ravaged by a storm, but still there, if a little shaken. I lost my sail, my anchor. And I know another storm will come. How will I withstand it when it does?

My anchor, my sail, must be God. There is nothing else left for me to cling to when I weather the new storm. I will lose a piece of myself with each loss. So I pray that underneath all I am is God. Faith. The only thing greater than death and grief. I pray that when I cannot stand and am stripped to my nothingness, God will be there underneath my bones.
"it was then that I carried you."

Make me a channel of your peace. Make me your instrument. I cannot do it alone.