December 20, 2011

a blue christmas

I want this all to be a bad dream. I want to sleep until January 1st. I want to run screaming to a tropical beach and get very, very drunk. I know none of this is possible so instead I shop for presents, wrap them, listen to Christmas music and send out a couple of cards to good friends. My heart just isn't into it this year, barely decorated a little 3 foot tree we bought instead of dragging our big one out. Heading back home soon to get the hardest Christmas ever over.

I clearly underestimated grieving. It's kicking my ass and leaving me whimpering on the floor in the fetal position. My house is a disaster, the laundry piled high and I've lost 12lbs because I just forget to eat or have no appetite. I wouldn't remember to shower but I hate having greasy hair and unshaved legs so I manage that at least. Needless to say, I'm taking this pretty hard.

I feel irrevocably changed, like a piece of me is forever gone. The one thought that keeps popping up is that I feel untethered, like I am only half stuck to this place. My Dad's gone so his string broke but my Mom's keeps me attached, I'm half untethered. It's a disconcerting feeling, a lost feeling. Some days I don't cry a single drop and he doesn't occupy my every thought but some days, I sob and sob and replay memories in my head over and over. It's funny but I'll forget and briefly freak out that I haven't bought him a Christmas present yet or called to check on him that day, I find myself talking about him and making plans for him like he's still here. Then, like a jolt, I remember and oh that sinking feeling sucks ass.

I never imagined losing a parent could fundamentally change a person. But it has, I know in my heart that I will never be the same. Yes, life will go on and I will eventually stop the hardcore grieving but it will always be different now, I will always be different now. I will always mourn him, miss him, long to see him just one more time. I will learn to live with this but I will never be who I was. Eventually the nightmares will stop and I won't be scared of driving or large crowds (all irrational, I know), it'll get easier.

I both look forward to that day and dread it. Just like I dread turning 55 and outliving him and I dread the day he's been gone 29 years- longer than I had him here as my Dad. But I also look forward to it, to taking him with me on my journey, knowing he's guiding me and praying for me. He's safe, happy and healthy again, I love that. I just hate it for me.


  1. Amanda, There really aren't any words, I Just wanted to say that I'm reading, and hearing you. I am so sorry.

  2. I'm so sorry Amanda! Loss is such a horrible, terrible, difficult thing, and manifests itself differently for everyone. I turned the same age this year as my mom was when she died. It was tough, but also a bit of a relief to be on the other side of it. Sending lots of hugs and prayers your way. Take good care of you!