My father is now at rest. It has been a very surreal couple of weeks. Literally fifteen days ago, he was alive. I have been trying to stay strong for my mother and brother, as usual. I grieve when I am not with them. I am not avoiding it. I am not even what I feel about some things.
After the girls left, our little nuclear family was broken. Now my original nuclear family is missing a piece. This one honestly hurts more. The girls are alive and well, completely proving that they are not mature enough to make big decisions. My father is gone. Never to cheer me up with a joke again or to commiserate with me when I need someone to listen. He was probably the best listener I ever knew. He did not interrupt, asked relevant questions, and did not rush to problem solving. For all his faults as a father and a man, he knew how to sit in uncomfortable feelings and let them process. He always thought the best of everyone. It truly hurt sometimes to be reminded that most terrible people are still important to someone else. That someone loves them and cares about them. That there are more than one side to a person.
Recently before all of this, I had made peace with not having any more kids. I was done and decided that my partner and I deserved to focus on ourselves. Now that wound is ripped open again. All the regrets, sadness, and inadequacies have flooded my brain. Maybe I should have bitten the bullet and tried to get pregnant. Perhaps we should have adopted some other kids before we were approached with ours. Maybe I should not have gotten with my partner so that he could have a happy little nuclear family that works.
On the one hand, there will not be anyone to mourn me when I am gone and nobody to feel this deep pain. On the other, I only have a handful of family left. My partner only has a handful. When those hands are empty, what will we do? How will we feel?
Maybe it is for the best. Maybe it is not. It is almost like the fear of mortality and not being remembered when you are gone. However, I would say it is more a fear of loneliness and a loss of purpose. So much of my life has been spent managing my family. Without that, who am I? What was the point of any of it if it all eventually ends?
I do not know what to think about these thoughts. I am still in mourning. Perhaps as time passes, answers will present themselves. The dust will settle and I will be able to return to a state of equilibrium. Until then, I will walk try to navigate the maze of grief.
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