No warning….
I’ll never forget that day. I woke up sick, like the kind of sick that doesn’t make sense. I went to work and struggled all day, it was as if something was happening but I didn’t know what exactly it was. Finally, the day was over and I went home. I was exhausted. So finally, I gave up and laid down. As my head hit the pillow, my phone started to ring. A number I didn’t recognize but the area code was from home. I answered it not knowing my entire life was about to change.
On the other end were the police, my dad had been found dead in his home, his heart had failed and he had passed away. My first response was yelling, my grandpa had just died a month before, this could not be happening again. But it was. Then, I swore, pleaded and screamed some more. I fell to the floor. As the officer explained to me that they needed someone to come to the house, I started to panic. I didn’t want to give that duty to my family, but I was 5 hours away.
I made that phone, one of the worst phone calls of my life….and within minutes it was confirmed. My dad was gone. No rhyme. No reason. No formal goodbyes. No preparations. Nothing. We got nothing. Within minutes I was out the door and on my way home, another panic stricken drive. Freaking the f*ck out if we are being honest. Calling others who needed to know and fielding phone calls from the police and family. I will never be able to get those images or conversations out of my head ever.
The days after….they are all a blur. I don’t remember much. It’s all a jumbled mess in my head. I know we made a lot of decisions. I did things I never thought I would do for a long time, like pick a casket, help decide what clothes he should lay to rest in and how he wanted to be buried. Awful decisions to make. I know there was a lot of anger, I was angry at God. I was angry at my dad for leaving our family. I was angry because I didn’t know who I was anymore.
So many questions and so much uncertainty followed that day….and it’s never changed.
Father’s Day. Again.
I remember an awkward time as a kid. Mother’s Day. People would sit around making crafts or cards of their moms and I always felt weird. Like why was I different? Why didn’t I get a mom who wanted me? Staring at these other kids as their moms embraced them, I never really understood my situation. It was all I ever knew. But then Father’s Day came around and I was just like everyone else, I fit in again and didn’t feel so weird.
In the days leading up to Father’s Day, I’d be lying if I didn’t feel like that little kid again but this time….it’s that reminder that I’ll never fit in again. I’m not mad, or jealous, I honestly hope no one ever has to feel like I do. I love seeing people post about their dads, sharing fond memories, life lessons and talking about their plans for the day.
For me, I already had my day. I went to the mausoleum, talked with my dad and grandpa. If we’re being honest, I cried pretty freaking hard because I still just don’t understand. I know I’m not supposed to, God’s plan is greater than our plans always but there’s just something about this that pulls and tears at me so much that I don’t know how to express the emotions. So I go to the cemetery and I just talk to them. I wished them both a Happy Father’s Day, I’m sure heaven does it up right. But I’d really be lying if I didn’t feel cheated.
My biological mom has always been gone, it happened when we were little, I have never known anything else. But my dad, he was the only constant in the parenting department. I was fortunate, I had grandparents and aunts, uncles and parents of friends. Everyone always made sure we were taken care of, I don’t mean for this post to take away from my appreciation for them. But it’s different, when you don’t have any of your biological parents anymore. It really puts you in a different atmosphere at times. One of which, I cannot deny is full of negativity, regret and painful memories of the days after.
This kind of reality isn’t in a greeting card.
When these days come around, Mother’s and Father’s days, I now see it quite differently. For not only myself, but for many others, these days are full of sorrow. It’s the same loss, same emotions, but intensifies as the days get closer. For me, it makes me yearn for simpler times, the times when we were all still together, the times before the funerals, the picking of the plots and pulling out the clothes for their final resting.
But those days are only memories, ones that seem to fade as the years go on even though I strive to remember every single thing I can. Thinking of everyone else sitting in my shoes too, those who also are without parents, it makes me realize that social media has made these days ludicrous fantasies that don’t exist. It’s been almost two years now and it’s not remotely been a fantasy.
It’s changed me. Forever will honestly. Instead, I’ve become more aware of other’s and their struggles. It’s taught me to judge less and love more often. It’s taught me most importantly to be mindful of my words and actions because the only thing we control is the way we react to situations. We can’t change this reality, there is no appropriate greeting card when you’ve lost your parents in your 20s and there’s no words that will ever heal your heart.
What happens now?
So, what happens now? I ask myself this all the time. My dad was so sure he would walk me down the aisle. He talked about us all having grandkids. He was so sure he had a future, so what happens now?
I’d be lying again if I didn’t say I think about these things more then I tell the world. I try and picture that special day and all I can see is empty chairs. I think about those special dances with your parents, who will mine be with? Will I even have the chance to get married? Who will be there to teach me all of the things I still don’t know that parents teach you when it’s your time to have kids? Who will give me away? Simple things but in our society, critically important things that make me feel inferior as a woman.
Personally, I still feel like a kid. I feel like because my situation was so different I still don’t know the things I am supposed to know. I still don’t understand what I am anymore? Am I daughter? Can you still call yourself that if you don’t have parents to claim you? Does that descriptor disappear now? How does this even happen and how do you handle it?
I am terrified that these moments in the future won’t be what they are supposed to be. Will this life always be a constant reminder of the pain that sits below the surface? Will I forever live with this regret that randomly brings me to tears when someone asks me about my family. When does the joy overcome the grief?
Personally, feel free to argue this point, but I don’t believe it ever gets “easier” and we really need to stop telling people this, because they don’t come back. No part of this gets easier, we as those who are grieving learn to respond and handle ourselves better. That doesn’t make it easier for us is just makes it easier for everyone around us. For me, I think this forever is going to be a battle. One of which I hope I am guided to better understand as my heart becomes less angry and I learn to be gentle with myself.
There are a million regrets I will have to live with for the rest of my life but if you learn anything from me pouring out my heart on my blog, it’s that you can only control the controllable. So, now, I am trying to become a better person. Learning to control my anger and being okay with not being okay somedays.
Because if you’re like me, being on your own so early in life, it’s utterly terrifying. Take your time in your healing process, and realize you are no less worthy than others just because your story is different.