Measuring grieving

It's been a year, today, that my Dad died.

Honestly, I feel a bit guilty that it really seems to have arrived without any trauma. I feel like I should care more, or have a melt down, or *something*. I just don't feel like I need to. My wife suggests these things are what you make them to be. Thanks Honey. Definitely makes me feel better.

During his illness I experienced a very was almost a visceral sense of fabric of the universe in motion. I didn't feel small, I was a part. I certainly wasn't in control, but I was important. It was all connected. I feel like I was a part of what was happening, and I was really OK to let things happen.

On my last visit with my Dad, he really didn't seem to have any idea of what was coming. I'm not sure if that was the pain killers causing a haze, or the cancer that was killing him, or an unwillingness to accept what was occurring. I suspect the later, as he wanted to get out of hospital, and get on with things. No time for dying, which then and now seems like he horribly missed the point. It's sad for me to say that I really have no idea what he was thinking.

I do have a profound sense of loss with my Dad. But it isn't new. I've had it for many years. But he lived his life the way he wanted, and I did let my sense of loss go long before he was sick. He only wanted so much in a relationship with me. We had that.

I like being a Dad, and being a part of my kids lives. I plan to lean in to my relationship with them as much as I can. I like to tell them how much I care about them, and love them. I try to tangibly show that on a daily basis. My goal as a Dad is to teach them to trust God and themselves. To be self aware and choose for themselves. Then celebrate that with them.

Yeah, I do loose my cool sometimes which sucks: I'm no where near a saint or superman. Most importantly though, we're not done in developing, exploring and enjoying our relationship. No where near done.

That doesn't mean that I haven't though a lot about him over the last 12 months. At first I would think I should give him a call (I usually would initiate contact), and then I would have to remember he's very much out of cell coverage. Now, I have both of those thoughts almost simultaneously. It adds to that that sense of loss every time I can't call. I'm not sure what that means, really. Is that improvement? Not sure. I know things are reaching a balance, and somehow I know it's all OK. Perhaps the only tangible measure is acceptance: and I think I'm there.

I put up this plaque by my office. I enjoy it when people come by, read it, and know I care. If even just in passing. Some do think it's really strange that some ashes are there: even perhaps disrespectful? I don't think I get that either.

Funny, but I know my Dad couldn't give a rip that anyone care to remember him after he was gone. For me I care. I miss him and like to remember his life. That feels good.