It’s only been 3 and ½ weeks since my father died. I can’t even begin to describe how I feel. My emotions are, understandably, all over the place. I haven’t written a post in a couple of weeks because, quite frankly, I haven’t had much to say, and I’m not sure I have much to say now, but I don’t want to keep my grief bottled up.
After the funeral, after everyone went home, I started to get the feeling my life was supposed to go back to normal. I felt (feel) sad, and a range of other emotions, that go along with grief. I function(ed) because that’s what I have to do, that’s what I need to do in the outside world, but behind closed doors, it’s a different story, a story best told with pictures.
I haven’t cleaned much in the past three weeks: dishes have piled up in the sink, my dining table became a catch-all, I’d wash undies when I was wearing my last clean pair and not before. I paid a $30 medical co-pay over 60 days late (I just haven’t cared). When I’m home, I stare into space, trying to focus, attempting to concentrate, but those moments don’t come frequently enough. I’m sad. I need to be sad now. My world looks different; nothing can change that.
Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t need psychiatric drugs; I don’t need therapy—after all it’s only been 3 ½ weeks. I need to and I choose to acknowledge that I need to just be for now; I need the space to figure out how the landscape of my world is altering at a faster pace than I ever imagined.
I miss my father’s love. I know that he’s with me now more than ever, but that’s part of the new configuration of my life that I haven’t quite settled into yet.
Knowing others care and love helps. As I looked around my recently cluttered apartment this morning, I kept focusing on the flowers my friends sent me Friday, and I felt (and feel) the love the sunflower arrangement conveys. Then I thought about the sweet messages of love and hugs I’d been receiving, and somehow all that gave me the energy to make space for my life.
I’m including before and after pics, so you can see the manifestations of my grief. You’ll also see a clutter free dining table, lovingly decorated with flowers and pics of my father, so when I wake up Sunday morning, I’ll be able to have breakfast with him by my side. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
With love and gratitude to those around me who are helping me feel loved when I need it the most.
Pics # 4 & 5 Dining Table and Kitchen After