I’m sitting here searching for words to express all that I’m feeling. . . But there aren’t enough.
I’m sitting here drinking coffee and remembering my dad. And I’d be a liar if I said I could sit here and remember him on his birthday and not cry.
I know my tears can’t bring him back and I know he’s not in pain anymore and I know it should be getting easier. This is the third birthday without him, and it doesn’t make sense that it hurts just as bad as the first one. But facts are, I don’t want to sit here and remember him. I want to call him and tease him about how he’s getting old and bitch because I had to get up at 430am so I could function enough to have Matt to the school for his debate meet at 6am. I want to be sitting across the table from him while I drink my coffee, not sitting here by myself wishing he was here.
It’s all so very selfish, but it’s also very true.
He wouldn’t want me to sit here being sad. And a lot of people say that about their loved ones, it’s kinda cliche, but for Dad it is most certainly true. I have a house to clean and laundry to do and Christmas presents to wrap. . . He wouldn’t want me to sit here crying into my coffee with the day wasting away because I miss him. He’d want me to get off my ass and get shit done. Reality is that no matter how many tears I cry and how many words I write, I can’t go back in time, I can’t cry or write him back into existence, and he is indeed gone.
But I can write about my grief and maybe give someone the gift of knowing it’s okay to feel this way. I can write about it and help enable myself to heal a little bit. Grief can be ugly, and I’m sorry to share that ugly with you. But maybe it lets you know that it’s okay to be sad, and that you’re not the only one with selfish thoughts, that you’re not alone in your grief.
And I can share that it’s my dads birthday, so that everyone who comes across this post knows that even though I’m sad, I am also celebrating the life of the man who helped make me who I am today. Because without him guiding me through 30 years in this fucked up world, I wouldn’t be able to handle all that life throws at me. He taught me and showed me about so much . . . strength and kindness, resilience and honesty. . . He taught me how to laugh during hard times and to embrace and appreciate the good times. He gave me my fucked up sense of humor, the gift of sarcasm and a vocabulary that spans from intellectual to obscene. . . and he gave me my ability to see the silver lining.
Now, the only thing I can give him is to share all he taught me with as many people as I can. . . Because through my words he is remembered.
So happy birthday, Dad. I’ll go do the laundry now.