So tomorrow marks ten weeks since my dad died and Fathers day is also creeping upon us. It's finally begun to hit me. I have a difficult time talking about how I really feel. I can blab about my opinion, the news, fashion and other nonsense yet my true, raw emotions are harder for me to bear. I struggle with being vulnerable.
So this is my attempt to open up a bit.
Most of you have tried to reach out, but the time for me to talk hasn't been right yet. And I do appreciate everyone who has lent a shoulder to cry on. Thank you so much. I worry that when I attempt to share my daily blunders I will be burdening all of you, however I am so thankful for friends who keep coming back for more of my misfortunes to share the pain with me. I know that none of my friends can take my pain away, no matter how much they try, but they can lighten the load especially the days I am wandering down some very dismal paths. I thank you for listening to me, as I fondly recall story after story of my dad & I. Thank for your patience & your quiet smile, I know its hard not always having the right words to say, but just listening helps. All I have I left are the stories, memories and jokes about my dad, the imprints he left behind I hope will never be forgotten. Thank you for helping me keep his cherished memory alive.
Since his initial diagnosis in January, I have consistently refused to deal with my dad's illness on what some would call a " healthy level", unless you consider 3 trips to the gym each day, 2 hours of sleep each night, and even my constant traveling healthy, all of this is mainly due to my need for control. I've been battling this urge to control my life & everything around me to create stability. Sometimes I've found it, but I usually don't. And yes, trust me, I know God is the only one who has absolute control over my life or give me peace & security. Yes, yes I know that. But right now the only God I know took my dad away from an already hurting family.
For the past several weeks, I have been scrambling to super glue all of the cracks & pieces of my life back together and I just ran out of super glue… My heart is broken, missing a vital link, one that I can't have back. I have run out of answers for myself, my sister and my mother; it's eating at me. I thought well, even if Dad is gone, I can attempt to be as strong as he was, so that the rest of my family won't be was terrified for the future as I am.
And so now, ten weeks out, my mom zones in and out of a depressed stupor,( I wrote this on May 19 and my mom was very depressed)most of time, mom cries in a healthy way, my sister is anxious & unsure about her future, my extended family is either condescending or overly cautious, and I, I find myself caught. Caught walking the boundaries of where I have to stop saying yes to my family at my own expense and where I start to pursue my own dreams, goals and adventures, the same ones that used to make my dad so proud.
Barack Obama came to Roseburg in mid May and it was such a bittersweet event. While my dad was in the hospital in Portland, I would call him almost hourly & inform him of the latest happenings at the Boise Obama office. He would tenderly give me advice on how to approach adversity and then laugh with, but usually at, me for the ridiculous things I'd said and done that day. Every time I came to visit, he'd always humor me, and together we would watch CSPAN, CNN, MSNBC, etc for their nightly coverage of the elections. I'd buy him the daily paper yet by the time it made it to his room, it would be crumpled from my thrashing, he would ask me what I had read and we would discuss it. My dad was a huge fan of Michelle Obama; every time that he would watch her speak he would call me with his intelligent and unique commentary.
I felt a stab in my heart on that Saturday, seeing his cohorts, friends and fellow church members at an event he would he so thoroughly enjoy. I hate knowing that for the rest of my life, I will be faced with wonderful and tragic events, all of which I will face without being able to hold my father's hand. I again felt that stab while I was working in Montana, so much happened during the days leading up to my campaign visit as well the days that followed, it hurt so much knowing, no matter how much I wanted to call him to cry, laugh or celebrate, I couldn't do so. Senator Obama won the nomination while I was in Montana, I was out canvassing when I heard the news, a part of me was sad that I couldn't share that history making moment with him, yet another part of me, was filled with joy, I knew how proud he was of me, not only for getting involved but for standing up for my convictions, and with my hard work I had a hand in making history, with my dad smiling down from Heaven.
Now, honestly I am so bitter right now. Its Fathers Day weekend, a holiday that was always so easy to celebrate. My dad was the most amazing person I've ever known. He was the world's best cheerleader & an eternal optimist, yet with a firm grasp on reality and truth. My dad never wanted me to stop dreaming. Anything I have ever wanted to do or become he encouraged whole-heartedly. From outer space to spiders to history and politics, my dad would explore every topic that had caught my fancy for that week. He not only encouraged learning but he lead by example, he constantly challenged me to question what I know and change my thinking or outlook to comprehend a topic more in depth. It was irritating at times but he always pushed me to achieve to my potential, not what the world calls number one but for me to be my number one.
And with such an amazing father, who happened to spoil me without fail, I never grew tired of being a daddy's girl or holding my dad's hand when we would cross-busy city streets. And the day I had to tell my dad I had been raped, pained me, for I could see in his eyes how much that destroyed him, knowing that for the first time in his life, he couldn't save his baby girl. That summer, while we were in Seaside, he held my hand a little bit tighter as we walked down the promenade. My mom always instructed my sister and I to marry a man like our father, this is why my dad met less than 10% of the guys I've dated. I was worried he would see through what I already knew, these guys are nothing like him and will probably never measure up to be the person I deserve beside me in life.
His colleagues at the ESD, remember how at least once a week I could show up at his office, insisting he take me out to lunch or contribute to my coffee fund, usually both, and he would just smile, looking up from the mountains of paperwork that never seemed to escape his desk, finish his email, grab his coat and walk with me to the Chinese place a block away. Or the days, he was too busy to leave his desk, I'd pick him up a coke, hot coffee & some Safeway takeout and we would have an office picnic, in between his conference calls, impromptu meetings and other tasks that needed to be dealt with. No matter how tense he was that day about sp-ed funding or a new program needing to be re evaluated, my dad created an office atmosphere that I always felt loved in, even if I was interrupting a meeting with a state senator.
I loved my dad more than I can express. I am fighting myself from running through the "what ifs", What if I had told I loved him one more time, what if I gave him one more hug or what if I hadn't gone to class the day he died…
There are some experiences in life that you can look back on, with a slight smile knowing how hard that instance was go to get through yet the end result was worth. I am confident this is NOT one of those situations. I am asking for patience and understanding, as I have simply begun this journey of pain, heartache and worst of all, uncertainty. Some of you have already begun this same journey or sadly walking alongside me, feeling the same hurt. Please keep me in your prayers.
Lynsey
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