Grief sucks
I still haven't processed any of my grief over my dad's death.
Heath Ledger's death a couple of weeks ago really set me off. Already a troubled sleeper, it just was the end for me.
I didn't know Heath. I'm not sure I've even seen any of his movies. (Okay, a quick side trip to imdb confirms that I have not seen any of his movies. And did you know his full name was Heathcliff?) I am, however, addicted to celebrity news and his daughter, Matilda, was born just a month after mine, so we have that in common. And his death, to me, signaled another girl losing her daddy and as I grieved for Matilda I could no longer fully contain my own grief. Yet I still have not addressed it and instead I've been cranky, sullen and snappish.
Matilda is only 2 and she will barely remember her father, yet he loved her dearly (from all reported accounts; again I knew him not). It is so tragic.
I don't care how old you are when you lose the parent that you hold dearest. It just hurts.
There is nothing I can do to change how things played out with my dad. The lack of control to do anything that would change the outcome, the lack of his presence here on earth ... the loss is just overwhelming if I let myself acknowledge it, and when I try to sleep is when it becomes hardest to push the thoughts and memories away. I am just filled with so much anger and sorrow.
My daughter developed a slight cold over the weekend and yesterday afternoon she was wheezing as loud as my dad was. Panicked, I rushed her to the doctor to learn what I really did know deep down ... just wait another day or so and she'll be fine. And this morning she was. She still is getting saline and the vaporizer for another day or two, because I'm just over-protective like that. Actually, I'm just a bundle of nerves terrified of losing her, too.
Found this quote a few minutes ago, and it has brought me some momentary comfort: Only when it's dark enough, can you see the stars. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I miss you dad. Terribly.
Heath Ledger's death a couple of weeks ago really set me off. Already a troubled sleeper, it just was the end for me.
I didn't know Heath. I'm not sure I've even seen any of his movies. (Okay, a quick side trip to imdb confirms that I have not seen any of his movies. And did you know his full name was Heathcliff?) I am, however, addicted to celebrity news and his daughter, Matilda, was born just a month after mine, so we have that in common. And his death, to me, signaled another girl losing her daddy and as I grieved for Matilda I could no longer fully contain my own grief. Yet I still have not addressed it and instead I've been cranky, sullen and snappish.
Matilda is only 2 and she will barely remember her father, yet he loved her dearly (from all reported accounts; again I knew him not). It is so tragic.
I don't care how old you are when you lose the parent that you hold dearest. It just hurts.
There is nothing I can do to change how things played out with my dad. The lack of control to do anything that would change the outcome, the lack of his presence here on earth ... the loss is just overwhelming if I let myself acknowledge it, and when I try to sleep is when it becomes hardest to push the thoughts and memories away. I am just filled with so much anger and sorrow.
My daughter developed a slight cold over the weekend and yesterday afternoon she was wheezing as loud as my dad was. Panicked, I rushed her to the doctor to learn what I really did know deep down ... just wait another day or so and she'll be fine. And this morning she was. She still is getting saline and the vaporizer for another day or two, because I'm just over-protective like that. Actually, I'm just a bundle of nerves terrified of losing her, too.
Found this quote a few minutes ago, and it has brought me some momentary comfort: Only when it's dark enough, can you see the stars. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I miss you dad. Terribly.
posted by Jayne at 12:23 AM
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