my story, my truth
Some days death just knocks the breath right out of you. The first day I experienced this was in 2006 when my grandfather died, and the second was in December when my Dad died.
But even though I haven’t felt that blunt force more than twice in my life, I’ve felt so much more, every day. Including today.
“If anywhere in your soul, you feel the desire to write, please write. Write as a gift to yourself and others. Everyone has a story to tell. Writing is not about creating tidy paragraphs that sound lovely or choosing the “right” words. It’s just about noticing who you are and noticing life and sharing what you notice. When you write your truth, it is a love offering to the world because it helps us feel braver and less alone.” – Carry On, Warrior
I’ve been sharing my story on my blog about life and grief and truth and I wanted to continue the story today. I cannot promise to write in tidy paragraphs that sound lovely, but I can promise to share what I notice and write my truth.
A family friend passed away today. I didn’t know him well. I’d only been around him twice. He was a friend of my parents while they were working in Ohio. He was there when my Dad passed away and he was this gentle, calming presence. Someone you know genuinely means what they say and will genuinely do anything to help you.
He got married to his fiance this week and while that may make you sad, it makes me so so happy. Just from the little I knew and saw, they were a beautiful couple and I’m so thankful they found each other and she will “always be his forever.”
But how is this fair, how?! I feel like I’ve learned so much about death this year and grown so much, then this happens and I feel like I’m stepping 10 steps back.
I’m crying. I’m crying because it brings up feelings about my Dad. I’m crying because now I can truly empathize with someone who loses a loved one. I’m crying because I can’t possibly understand how I will get through my life knowing I will have to go through this feeling again and again and again.
Someone told me you have to schedule time to grieve. Just like you schedule coffee with a friend or time to go to the grocery store. It needs to be part of your week. Ever since I heard that I knew it was true, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. It’s like voluntarily scheduling myself to get a shot every week. Why would I put myself through the pain if I didn’t have to?
I’m still learning. I’m still crawling through this grief and life even though I’m 25 years old. This is my story I’m sharing with you. I don’t have any inspirational words to end with. I just want to tell my story. I want to be honest and real even though it’s scary and hard and messy. This is my forum, to tell my truth. Life is hard. Life is really, really hard. Every single day is hard. Some days are harder than others and today was one of those days.
But there’s one thing I do know – I know when my Dad saw Scott today, he had a big grin on his face, gave him a big hug and they started talking about football. And that, that does give me some joy.