Although today marks six years from the death of my father I recall my sister in law hugging me and saying something like “it will get better/easier” or something like that at my mother’s funeral. She knew from experience and she was right.
It’s not as overwhelming and there aren’t “things to be taken care of” like that first few months with him gone. One learns to cope or tolerate or adjust to how to live without someone they love. I can only speak of my own experience but losing two significant people in my life in 2014 and 2015 has altered my life, my thinking, my existence.
As I’ve stated in previous posts losing my second parent was much harder, probably because that connection to the generations before has been severed. The hole it’s left in our family is wide and sad. The only ones that really understand my thinking are my three siblings. Which I might add I clutch to like a new baby koala with it’s momma! (in regards to staying connected that is!)
The thought that I will never be able to ask any more questions is the thing I miss the most. Something that I had so many years to do but did not. There were various reasons, complicated relationships and secrets to not be discussed, fears and lack of relationship skills. All now seem so meaningless yet had so much control back then.
It’s been a rough year for many, me included. But the one thing I really wish I had.
My dad’s hugs.
Something that was free for the taking. As an adult I no longer held fear of him like I did as a child. In the hugging world the man never let go first. I could use one of his hugs so bad this past few days for more reasons than it being the month of August. Which is crazy, it’s not like we lived close or got together often but when we did, upon entering I always got a hug and another when I left. If I was lucky like those last few days maybe another during the visit!
I can close my eyes and feel the hugs. I’m glad for that. Growing up I don’t recall him hugging much. Perhaps forgiveness does that, makes a person a better hugger or recipient of them. I don’t know.
My father’s health problems really hit when he was around 50 years old. A life of hard living will do that to a person, although some comes from genetics. As I look 50 in the face later this year I can’t help but wonder how my DNA plays a part in my living. Through medical tests and annual checkups I can keep an eye on things. I won’t lie, losing both parents in their early 70’s to heart issues keeps it on my radar often. Yet here I am living the way I am.
There’s no doubt, I miss my Dad. One adjusts like I said before but you never stop missing those that go before you. I could write many things here to process but I’m going to leave with that.
Thanks for stopping by.