The grief process is a tricky creature. I have found myself in varying stages of grief, only to return to a previous stage. I know that is normal, but it seriously stinks sometimes. Sure, I acknowledge and accept that he isn't here anymore. I get it. But it doesn't mean that I am okay with his death. No one should ever be " okay" with the loss of someone. Most days come and go without sadness. Then there are other days that simply suck. No other way to describe it. They just suck. Those days are the ones that reach right into your soul out of nowhere. Grief appears out of nowhere sometimes and rather unexpectedly. For me, the first time unexpected grief happened was about a year after he died and I was taking a CPR class and I had to watch a video on how to save a heart attack victim. (For those of you that don't know, my dad died of sudden cardiopulmonary arrest). I began to sweat and shake because I didn't know what to do. I hated every second of that training. Of course, that took me right back to the day he died wondering if I had been there, could I have saved him with this life saving information? I told you grief was tricky. I have felt a lot of guilt since he died. I know that is part of the process, but it doesn't help.
I have found different ways to cope and truthfully, no one way works. About 6 months after he died, I just couldn't keep it together and found myself sobbing in my kitchen after I broke a plate that was the last plate remaining from a small collection he had given me. So, with the support of my husband I went to see a grief therapist. That helped me put things in perspective. I admit, I felt a little foolish sobbing in front of a stranger in a quiet little office. But,I assure you the third person's perspective was helpful and she could offer a different opinion and be objective. She gave me some ideas to help and since then I have tried to use them. However, I decided to do something on my own and sometimes it makes me sad yet at the same time, it makes me happy. Crazy, I know. I buy a card for him on his birthday, on Father's Day, on Veterans Day and on Christmas. I write short messages in them and put them in a photo box. It helps me and if it isn't hurting anyone else, why not do it?
My therapist had suggested I write him a letter to tell him how I feel and how that can be helpful. I never did that until now. She was right. It does help. I realize some folks may think this is too personal and private to put out there. Maybe it is. But if it helps one person who has experienced the loss of a parent, then it works for me. Plus, I think this may give my friends, family and colleagues some perspective and what I feel and experience every day. It may give some insight as to why I say or do some of the things I do.
Dear Dad,
I can't believe you are gone and I cannot believe you have been gone now for over 2 years. I really do think I miss you a little more everyday. I know that it isn't possible to have loved you anymore that day or any day since then. My heart broke that day. I don't think it has ever healed; nor do I believe it will.
I admit, I am angry that you left me without saying good-bye. Then again, I don't know that that would have been any easier. It's funny how I am reminded of things you told me when I was younger about your own mortality: You told me on more than once occasion that " I'm not going to live to be an old man,honey. My heart won't make it." The irony of that statement is that it was your heart that gave out. You also told me: " When the man upstairs calls my number,my time here is up and there is nothing I can do about it". So I believe that your number was up. I know now you were ready. I wasn't. But you were. Sometimes I wonder if you knew subconsciously the last time we saw one another if that would be the last time. It was such a wonderful visit. Your blue eyes twinkled and you laughed so much. I wish I could have stayed a little longer than day knowing now that would be it. But you walked me to my car and hugged me. You told me you loved me and stood on the sidewalk watching me drive away.
I was so angry the day you died for so many reasons- most of which have to do with your widow. I hate that I couldn't give you the full proper memorial service you wanted and deserved. I have often wondered if I didn't try hard enough for that and if you were disappointed. I hope not. I did what I could.
There is a lot that I would love to do and say with you right now. So here goes..... I want to pick up the phone everyday and tell you about all of the different things that have happened in my life. I want you to laugh your high pitched laugh and clap your hands because you enjoyed a story so much. I want to stand next to you in the kitchen and fix dinner. I want to laugh with you about the geneology of the Johnson/Bird/Carpenter family from several generations back and how the family tree resembles more of a spider web than a tree (which by the way, I want to seriously thank your dad for marrying Granny who was outside the Turkey Creek gene pool). I want to take a walk with you down the street where I picked up my first pebble. I want to stay up late talking over a cup of coffee about the latest world events.I want to sit in the living room with you while you play guitar and sing. I want to take back the times I rolled my eyes at you. I want you to explain the brilliance of CCR, Jimi Hendrix and The Beach Boys. Yeah, I know you told me all about it when I was a little girl, but I want to hear it from you now as an adult since I have a much better appreciation for it. I want to go to the grocery store with you. We always had the best times doing those kinds of activities.Thanks for reading to me and also buying books for me when I was a child. I have "The Tooth Book" and love it just as much now as I did then.Thank you so much for introducing me when I was very young to people who were different than me (cultures, abilities, ethnicities). It shaped who I am and clearly led me to my calling in life. I have you to thank for that. I am sorry for being a mouthy disrespectful teenager and for not trying harder to understand your reasons for some of your parenting decisions (which for the record, as an adult I completely get it now).I also apologize for not trying harder when you and I were attempting to navigate a very bumpy path in our father/ daughter relationship. I know it wasn't easy. You did the very best that you were capable of doing given the challenges you had in life. You were good enough. You didn't have to prove yourself to me. You took care of me when you were supposed to. You gave so much of yourself for me. I never forgot it. I never will. I think you deserved more in life and I am sorry I couldn't support some of your decisions. I forgive you AND myself for some of our heated exchanges and misunderstandings. I know those difficulties happened because I am just like you: emotional, yet illogical, yet passionate.
Despite some of our bumpy steps, I am so proud to be your daughter. Someone told me that you left quite the legacy in me. I think they are right. People know me as Doug Johnson's daughter. That isn't a bad thing to be known as in this world. I hope that I have turned out to be the strong-willed, independent and determined woman you raised me to be. Neither one of us knew how beneficial my stubborn streak would be.
It turns out that it has come in quite handy in life. In closing, I miss you more than you could ever know. I hope to continue to make you proud. Thank you for loving me with such a fiery spirit. I know I loved you and still do with an equal amount of fire and emotion. I'll see you when He lets me.
Your daughter eternally,
Amber Leigh
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