I have felt the need to write this post for a little while now, but have had no idea where to start really or what to say so I thought I would just type away and see where I land up. The key thing that was blocking me is that I have had no idea how to process my thoughts.
It’s been a few weeks now since my father passed away and now that my life is starting to get back to what I suppose you would call normal, or at least my routine is back to normal, the calm that I had felt since his passing seems to be going away. I knew at the time when I was back home in the UK that I was not really going to even begin to process the magnitude of what happened and that certainly seems to be the case. However, an hour into my flight back home to Sydney the enormity of what just happened hit me like a brick. I had to call on all my available willpower not to just sit in my seat on the aircraft and blubber like a baby.
Since being back home and trying to get back into my routine it seems to just hit me out of nowhere at times. I don’t even think I’m aware of even thinking about what happened, and I find myself welling up. It is a strange feeling because I don’t feel like his death is present and at the front of my mind yet from nowhere waves of emotion just strike me. I know I should just let it happen and not fight those waves but the daft Englishman inside me says to be stoic and not let them carry me away. Out of the blue, the thought will just pop into my head that he’s gone, he is actually gone. I won’t speak to him again or see him again, we won’t share a beer, and I won’t unburden my worries on him. He is no longer there to guide me on the right path. I hadn’t realised how much guidance I taken from him over the last few years.
I am fortunate that I knew my time with him was limited, him having been diagnosed in November last year and we knew then that it was terminal. I know I should be grateful for the fact that we had time to say the things we need to say to each other, that I could express love to him in a way that I may not have done in the past. I could tell him how proud I was of him and I was able to realise that he and I had got to a point in our relationship that I had so wanted to be. I am grateful but at the same time I’m angry that he just went to soon really. I thought that we would have had more time to talk, I thought I would’ve had time to bring him to Sydney to meet my boys. I think even though I knew that he was dying, the enormity of that, I just pocketed into someplace in my brain. It was simply too difficult to process or to comprehend and so although I was aware that I was about to lose him I didn’t really know what that actually means until it happens.
Losing a parent is different from losing a friend or some other loved one, a parent is part of you, they are fundamental to the person that you are, you’re being here, the life you have lived, is because they were part of a couple that made you. That connection you have with a parent, regardless if it was a good, bad or indifferent relationship you had, is a connection you have with no one else. I am feeling lost without it. I’m lucky because I’m surrounded by love, having an amazing partner, wonderful friends and I have two really beautiful sons that just fill me with love, but there is a shadow over all of that at the moment. I know it’s a shadow that over time will lift and pass but meanwhile it to seems like it covers everything.
I’ve dealt with grief before and I know that life moves on, as it should, but this grief is like no other I have experienced in the past. But at the same time, in the initial weeks of his passing I didn’t really feel anything, I was numb, and I feel guilty now that I didn’t feel this grief so raw before now, I feel the need to hold onto it as a way of demonstrating how much I love and miss him.
I am so very proud of my father, for much of my life the choices I made were to make my father proud of me. Moving forward the choices I make will be made in order that my sons will one day be proud of me and love me as much as I love my father.