33 weeks. 231 days. 5,536 hours.

 

...since the last time I saw my Dad. 

Since the last time anyone saw him alive, really.  I was going to say, "Since the last time anyone saw him," but that's not true.  The nice people (I'm presuming they're nice) at the crematory saw him a few days or so after that.  I have his exact cremation date somewhere. Let me think: he died on a Friday and we went to the funeral home to sign papers the next Tuesday, if I remember correctly, and that day or the day after was when he was actually cremated.  So that would be the last day anyone saw him.  

Unless you want to get really technical and say that anytime anyone looks at the cremains, they are seeing him...I mean, technically it's true.  That's what remains of his earthly shell.  

Alright, I'll quit.  

This week, I started to feel like I might be in Acceptance for once.  I think that's a misnomer.  "Acceptance".  To say I have reached Acceptance now implies that I wasn't accepting this harsh truth before, and that's inaccurate.  Of course I've accepted the fact that my Dad's gone and not coming back.  I know what death means.  Not only did I know in advance that it was going to happen, I was there when it happened and was there long enough afterward to leave no doubt in my puny human brain that it did actually happen.  

I guess I just mean that, I'm starting to feel like every single thing I do or say or think isn't clouded by the fact that one of my all-time favorite people in the world isn't here anymore.  The fog is starting to lift a little.  I can't be sad all the time, not when one of my all-time favorite people is in Heaven and I live daily with the promise that I get to see him there one day!  Seriously.  Heaven has got to be such an unimaginably beautiful place, I can't wait to see it (I mean, I can wait to see it -- I don't want to get there any sooner than God intends for me to get there) and I'm just so happy that my Dad is there.  Happy, pain-free, strong, with a clear mind, loving everyone, and waiting patiently for me and the rest of his loved ones who are still here on earth to join him one day.

And meanwhile, I still have days where it takes all I have just to get out of bed in the morning.  But I also have days again where I feel unstoppable.  Like the "old me" is coming back around.  Or probably a new and improved me instead of the "old" me.  IDK.  I just know I've felt a change lately, a good change.  The kind of change where I realize that I don't recognize the person in the mirror anymore and I have to do something to fix that, and I have to do something to get myself back to the person who doesn't let dirty dishes sit in the sink that long and I have to get back to being the person who doesn't like it when the hamper overflows or something doesn't get put away in a reasonable amount of time.  

And I know that the stages of grief aren't linear, and are subject to change. I might be in Acceptance today but be bawling my eyes out and unable to move myself off the damn couch tomorrow.  I hope not, but I know it could happen.  I know you just gotta take emotions one at a time sometimes, and celebrate the good ones when they do happen.  Cry when you feel like crying, rejoice when you feel like rejoicing, right?

That being said, not much new is going on lately.  It's officially spring, yay! So of course we're supposed to get snow this weekend.  We still have a couple of piles of snow around our yard, even though we've had a couple of 70ºF days since our last snowfall.  98% of the yard is mud and dormant grass.  It's still much too early to go out and do any yard work, and I'm just trying to catch up on housework lately.  I've been contemplating hiring a housecleaner to come in like once a week or somesuch.  Who knows.  We'll see.  

Last week, my sister showed up as a suggestion for a new friend on Snapchat.  So I added her as a new friend (or however that works on SC).  And not even a minute later, go figure, she disappeared from my friends list.  I think that was a new record.  I tried looking her up again and there were no signs of her at all.  So you know what that means? I've been BLOCKED...again. Woe is me.  My whole day was ruined.  NO IT WASN'T.  I just shook my head and heard my Mom's voice in my head, "I don't know what is wrong with her."  IDK either, but it's probably the narcissism.  Again, pure speculation on my part because it's hard to diagnose someone who hasn't talked to you directly in over a decade, but I think I may have enough data from prior to that to make a good educated presumption lol.  

And on that note, it's time for me to go back to work. TTFN!

In like a lion and out like a lamb, or something like that.

That's what "they" say about the weather in March, I guess.  If it comes in like a lion, it should go out like a lamb, and vice versa. 

*chortles in Midwestern*

It's funny, the other day I heard someone on social media talking about how strong they are; for context, they were talking about some emotionally heavy crap that they are going through right now, and I think it was for their own benefit more than anything that they followed it up by saying that they're strong and can get through whatever life decides to throw at them.  Don't worry about me, I'm strong, I'll be fine -- that kind of thing.

My first thought was: how sad.  Not because of what they were going through, but how sad that they think they have to be strong. Is that supposed to be a boast?  A compliment?  Yay, you didn't show your true emotions! What a good person you are!!  

I'm trying to remember if anyone tried to comfort me in the initial sorrow of losing my Dad by telling me I was strong, or that I had to be strong, or anything along those lines.  I'm sure someone did, because it's one of those things people say when they don't know what else to say.  But if they did, I don't remember who or when. Which is just as well, because being "strong" was the very last thing I was trying to be.  

I'm not saying I wasn't trying not to break down in public.  I'm not saying I still don't have times when I need to try not to break down in public.  (I do.  A lot!!)   I'm only human. I have emotions. Strong emotions.  Not just in this case, but in many cases.  If that's a sign of being weak, then yes, I am weak.  

But most of what made me sad for this person is that they didn't realize that they don't have to "be strong". That little bit of knowledge is what got me through years and years of watching my Dad deteriorate, sitting with him in his final days, watching him take his last breath, and now trying to make sense of living life without him.  I am not strong, but my God is. I can fall apart, and He will pick up the pieces.  I don't need to make sense of things or figure anything out, because He's got the plan.  I don't worry about what might happen next because I know God is in control.

I used to read words like that and think Yeah, that's nice, blah blah blah.  But I actually feel those words now.  I feel them deep down in my soul, in ways I cannot express in writing.  

This isn't about my sister (because she's blocked me on most forms of social media), but it makes me sad for her, too.  For pretty much the same reason.  Aaaaaand, I can't get into that right now because lunch break is over and it's time to get back to work. 

Toodles, for now...