Grief is a strange journey. While I am not alone on this journey I sometimes feel as though the path I travel is different. Every day is different yet every day is the same. I wake up each day and one of my first thoughts is that dad is gone. Some days I can deal with the sadness quickly and move forward to start my day and other days the sadness drapes over me until I can find a release. A good cry in the shower often helps. So there are good days and not so good days. This is to be expected.
I am doing the best I can to navigate through the potholes that seem to fill this journey.
Here are just a few that I have tried to avoid—unsuccessfully so far.
Grief eating….Yep, that’s right. I know there must be a medical or scientific term for it but I have moved on from stress eating to grief eating. I have managed to eat my way through the grief and my pants are suffering greatly. The daredevil that I am, I decided to check in with my rude and unfriendly scale this week. What a mistake, twelve pounds in twelve weeks. Sigh…
Tracking time… Yes it has been twelve weeks since dad’s death. Could it be a coincidence that I have managed to pack on twelve pounds in those twelve weeks? I cannot move on from counting the weeks and days since dad’s death. I am sure it’s not healthy but I feel the overwhelming need to mentally track how long he has been gone. Almost every Monday at 10:15 he comes to my mind and I remember our last moments together.
Memories…. A trip back to Arkansas to celebrate a beloved aunt’s 93rd birthday this weekend was bittersweet. Mom, Amy and I have made several ‘girls only’ trips to Arkansas over the years. Dad was typically content to stay at home during these two day there and back swift trips. This time as we pulled out of the driveway I mentally recalled the normal banter that would have taken place had he been here. Have you checked the air in your tires? Oil change recently? Filled up with gas? Be sure to watch your speed. (By the way, I never speed.) And my favorite…keep an eye out for the idiots on the road! Several times on the trip I felt the impulse to call him and report the details of the trip—how many troopers, the number of pit stops, the unbelievable amount of road kill we encountered and how fast we made it there—all without speeding of course. Wink!
Music…. Dad’s love of country music influenced both Amy and I. A few years ago I gave him one of the Time Life Collection of Country hits. I borrowed a few of the CD’s before he went into the hospital the last time and they are still in my CD player. It’s a sure way to bring the tears but I love listening to the artists and songs that I know he enjoyed. It makes me feel closer to him.
Dad’s Things….Seeing or being around his things naturally invokes certain memories. Dad almost always drove trucks as I was growing up. Save the time back in the 80’s when gas prices were so outrageous that he decided to go super economical in a tiny car to drive back and forth to GM. Dad’s last vehicle was a white Chevrolet truck. It is super low mileage. The majority of the miles are the result of the many trips he made to Arkansas to take care of his dad and to vacation with his family. He was meticulous with the cleaning and maintenance of his truck. It needs to be started and driven occasionally so this week I took it to give it a much needed bath. Imagine my shock as I pull into the car wash and the song that comes on is ‘I drive your truck’. Let’s just say that it’s nice that the car wash provides some privacy….the tears came rolling. The gist of the song is that someone drives the truck of a loved one sometimes and that’s how they cope.
I can’t say that driving dad’s truck is my way of coping but I hope to find a healthy healing way to do so soon! How does ‘I am fat and I drive your truck’ sound for a new tune?
So all in all, the journey is long and there is no map to follow but I’m thankful for my fellow passengers who support me!
