Monday, June 15, 2009

The truth is

I get asked how I'm doing all the time.

There's this whole spectrum of people in your life who you see daily, and who may be lovely and kind, but are not the people you seek out to hug you when you cry. Which you invariably do. And they ask how you're doing.

"How are you?"

You know they care. So what can you say?

I typically say, "Fine, thanks." Or, "Pretty good, considering."

Or something of that nature.

Because really, what are you going to say? I'm devastated? I hate this? It sucks? It hurts? It's the worst thing I've ever dealt with?

That's too much to put on someone who is not a closeclose person. That would only be awkward for both of you.

Although sometimes the question makes me cry, which is an answer in itself, I suppose.

The truth is, I miss my dad terribly. I feel like there's a big hole in my life. I wasn't ready. How can you ever be ready? And I didn't get to say goodbye.

I cry every day, at least once, but usually more. Today I started out crying, and it hasn't stopped.

My dad walked out the door a month ago.

And I wonder, what did he do on his last day? I hate that he was alone. He had our family picture in his wallet. Was he thinking about us?

Was he scared?

I hope he wasn't scared. I hope it didn't hurt.

I hope it was just relief.

Friends who have lost parents say it just takes a long, long time to feel better. In the meantime, it just hurts. And you just have to work through it. And wait.

And so in this meantime, I say fine. Fine and fine and fine.

What else to say?

23 comments:

  1. I think you're handling it all as well as possible. I really do.

    When you lose a parent (in any way), your whole universe changes. All your life, they've been there. Now, they're not. It sucks.

    Maybe it's sufficient to say to kind people "You're so sweet to inquire" and leave it at that.

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  2. My father died 20 years ago and I'm still not over it. Pain diminishes and happy memories surpass the sad ones. However, it's always there. Take care of yourself and give yourself permission to feel "crappy."

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  3. I think you should listen to those friends. And I think it's important to remember that the people who are asking? Aren't expecting to hear that you're fine.

    And, if/when you're in a place where a little levity is welcome, I direct you to this, and ask you to search for the phrase "left the match" on the page.

    Hugs.

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  4. i know i should just copy and paste my previous comments by now but there's really nothing you or anyone else can do to make it hurt less. it just takes time. it's different for everyone (obviously) but for me it was a solid year before i stopped crying almost every single day. it never gets easier/better, just easier to live with. there are still days when i'll be driving down the road and just burst into uncontrolable tears... it just happens.
    i'm not a person who talks about these things with the not close-close people either... i totally get it.
    keep on keepin' on... you've got so much going on right now and it's about to get even crazier... in a great way of course! that little man...

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  5. You know, I stopped talking to friends after my father died -- close, close friends - my best friend, even -- just because I couldn't deal with responding to the well-being inquiries. The slightest mention of the situation would reduce me to tears and bring about the chest pains. Avoiding the question itself seemed to be the best way of avoiding the pain and tears but, as I'm sure you know, you are going to feel it one way or another, either now or later.

    If it makes you feel better to have an honest vent to the people who care about you, do it. If you want to grieve in private, do it. There's no wrong answer to the "how are you" question.

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  6. I've been feeling your pain for the past 15 years. It *does* hurt less and less as time goes by, but there are days, like today for example, the sky is a perfect blue, the smell of freshly mown grass in the air, the sun shining down all happy-like and I think, "Wow, Dad would have LOVED today! He would be sitting on the front porch, a ball game on the radio, reading his newspaper...." Then I lose it and get all teary-eyed.
    You will always miss him.
    No, you *didn't* get enough time with him.

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  7. Oh, I feel your pain. I lost my mother 13 years ago, and I still think about the time between the last time I saw her and when she died. And I feel guilty for not realizing she was so close to death and being home in San Diego while she was in Seattle.

    But I also think of her and cry good tears when good things happen in my life. I see them as a tribute to her. "See, mom, you done good" sort of thing.

    I don't imagine I'll ever be over her death. But its become a part of me, and it will become a part of you as well.

    In the meantime, just keep saying "fine". We all understand.

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  8. Anything profound I would have said has been out-profounded by previous comments. So I will just send more hugs (because you can never have too many of those, right?).

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  9. Your words make me feel so many things. You are lucky to have so many memories of your father. I wish I had memories of my own. Maybe it's not so bad to feel the pain, to remember, from time to time. Maybe it would be worse to feel empty. I'm not sure.

    In any event, I hope that writing about it helps somewhat.

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  10. When my mom died I figure I taught more than a few people NOT to ask "how are you" when I'd start crying right then.

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  11. Lately my favorite has been a (fairly) cheery "upright and mobile!" Cause some days that's all I got.

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  12. I agree with all the comments - great comments - and would only add there is no timetable and a big hug to you.

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  13. You are handling it about a thousand times better than I can fathom ANYONE doing.

    Just saying. xo

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  14. something that hurts so deeply can't be easy to explain, and honestly, that's OK.

    Eventually it will hurt less. You'll find happy again. You'll always miss him, I'm sure. But you get to remember that spectacular person he was and the love he shared.

    It will get easier. It won't be long before you will mean it when you say "I'm fine."

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  15. if at all possible, try to avoid the people you don't want to talk about this with. if you do get asked how you're doing by someone you don't feel like opening up to, might i suggest a phrase i use regularly: "good enough for government work." because darlin', you are *not* fine yet, and that's part of the reason you want to cry when you say it . . .

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  16. Once again I don't know what to say. But I care, so I wanted to put that out there. :)

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  17. I think you just said it. And it was good for me to read. I'm probably not as aware of what is missing for MathMan who lost both parents before he was 30, as I should be. This was a good reminder.

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  18. I wrote this big long blurb about me and my parents but this isnt about me Lisa its about you so I deleted it.
    It hurts, it sucks, its stinks, its raw, anger, pain, anguish, all rolled into one big sushi roll and its ok its allowed, and sometimes when someone asks you, just look into their eyes and give a little smile and turn away, they will understand if you dont want to say anything out loud.

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  19. I really can't imagine. And I'm not sure I know what to say. But I really care about you and need you to know that there are so many of us thinking of you each and every day.

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  20. To add- I think the worst times when people would ask is when we were having a "fun" conversation, high energy, a nice break from whatever grief I was going through, and then they would ask "how are you doing" and I'd just automatically become upset (pavlovs dog at some points- how are you? automatic tears).
    I won't say it gets better, I miss her and each day lengthens the time I've been away from her. Which is- ya know-SAD.
    I haven't commented about this much because my mom passed on in January from breast cancer at 60, when my daughter was 2 months. It's just too much when it all happens at once. Looking forward, looking back. I think about what you're going through allot, and I guess the only thing/advice I have is that this shit's doable. Horrible too. Hugs to you and Betty.

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  21. To add- I think the worst times when people would ask is when we were having a "fun" conversation, high energy, a nice break from whatever grief I was going through, and then they would ask "how are you doing" and I'd just automatically become upset (pavlovs dog at some points- how are you? automatic tears).
    I won't say it gets better, I miss her and each day lengthens the time I've been away from her. Which is- ya know-SAD.
    I haven't commented about this much because my mom passed on in January from breast cancer at 60, when my daughter was 2 months. It's just too much when it all happens at once. Looking forward, looking back. I think about what you're going through allot, and I guess the only thing/advice I have is that this shit's doable. Horrible too. Hugs to you and Betty.

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  22. Just say "fine", sweetie. They just have to ask something to show their concern even if it does seem stupid and insipid.

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  23. I've tried to just ask you how the pregnancy is going, because otherwise, there's nothing you can say that won't either drag you into a conversation I'm sure you don't want to have, or that won't be a ridiculous over-simplification of what you're feeling. Which I can't even imagine. xoxo

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