Losing my father

In the months after my father died, a lot of people would ask me how I was feeling and how I "was holding up". I never really knew what to say. You don't want to "bore" people with all your thoughts and to be honest, there were lots of days that I didn't ( and still don't ) know how I feel about it. My feelings can change from moment to moment. But several months later, I finally sat down and *tried* to come up with how I felt. Honestly, it is how I still feel a lot of the time.

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For a number of things in my life, I have been the first. I was the first of my parent’s children. I was the first one to go far away home for college. I was the first of my friends to get married and have babies. Three months ago, I had another first. I was one of the first to lose a parent. My father.

He was 87 years old and had developed prostate cancer that destroyed his body. My father became the opposite of the man that I had known my whole life. He became unable to do much other than sit in his leather chair and watch CNN. He was fragile due to the cancer metastisizing into his bones and was not able to do such things as tilt his head back to swallow a pill or even eat. He lost an unbelievable amount of weight in the weeks leading up to his death due to vomiting and loss of appetite.

In the past three months, I have tried to come up with a way to describe my father’s death and how it impacts my life. Many descriptions and metaphors have run through my head. None of them seem to completely describe the loss, but each holds a significant piece of the puzzle.

It is like a wound that is left without protection: raw, unbelievably painful, and hard on ones soul. For me there have been truly physical components to this pain that range from loss of appetite and a sensation that I can only describe as what happens when you drop in a rollercoaster. This usually happens at the sudden realization that my father is really gone. I have told people it feels as if my organs have dropped in my body.

It is like having a warm blanket that is suddenly ripped off and your body is left exposed to the cold world. I remember a couple of days after my father died and how the air just felt colder and actually burned in my lungs. My father was always a protector and worried about things like us being warm in the winter and having food. To not have that physical, protecting force around me is terribly chilling.

It is as if the world becomes a bit more real, a bit faster paced and a lot scarier. I could always rely on my dad to be there in times of need whether it was to fix a car, give advice on how much to tip a plumber or how to tie a certain knot. This Christmas we are buying my son a pocket knife for Cub Scouts and my dad is the one I would have turned to in my hour of need. The loss of his guidance will be missed beyond words.

If there was a silver lining to this loss, it would be that I have experienced a much higher level of compassion towards others. Perhaps, because I realize that life is truly here one day and gone the next. I have a much better understanding of the inner workings of grief in one’s life and how it affects even the most basic aspects of a person’s life such as the desire to eat and talk.

I have also come to the realization that life is truly to be lived, as clique as that sounds. I now truly realize the fragileness of my own life and want to be able to be at the end of my own life’s journey here on Earth and know I did what I came here to do. I have the great responsibilities to myself, my boys, my husband, and my family to be present and willing in this life. I struggle with this in my grief at times and am still trying to figure out how to carry this out, but I am aware of and am grateful for the responsibility.

The loss of my father is like nothing I have ever or ever want to experience again. However, with my new realization about the delicate nature of human life, I am keenly aware that such loss will most likely happen again in my life. Therefore, I hope to live each day with that awareness and appreciate all that is given to me. And also be able to express the gratitude that I have for all of the gifts that are bestowed upon me.

With this loss being a mere three months old, I am sure that my view will change over time and perhaps become less severe, but it doesn’t matter how old we are, we still need our parents. We need them for their love, advice, approval and presence. And that loss is always with us.