15 Years

I woke up this morning with an overwhelming feeling of dread. I wondered why, since the storm had already passed. We didn’t lose power, no excess flooding, and from what I could see out the window from my bed, no trees had fallen, no text saying people I loved weren’t ok. So why did I feel this unexplainable weight? And then I remembered the date. 

October 11, 2018. 

15 years ago my dad died. 

After all this time it sounds like such a normal and insignificant sentence to write. Lots of people’s dad’s die. Death is part of life. It happens to everyone eventually. 

And yet, for me its monumental. It’s overwhelming. It’s crushing on this day.

 I started to feel guilt for feeling so sad this morning. Life goes on. I think, “It’s been a while. You should be ok by now.” 

But I’m not. 

In fact, sometimes I feel like it gets harder and harder as time goes on. Because while everything continues on around you and people have moved on with their lives, it still feels fresh and raw. On this day, there’s a little part of me that just wants to look around and say, “Why isn’t everyone stopping what they’re doing? Why are we not grieving what happened? Why is time still moving?” But that’s just grief. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t rationally remember that other people have their own things to deal with. 

And another thing. It starts to feel silly that you are defined by something that happened so long ago. It feels wrong. Almost shameful. Like you should grow up and get over it. 

But my brain won’t let me. My heart won’t either. I know that’s a good thing. 

But it makes Autumn such a hard season to bear. 

I have this weird war within me during this season. I used to love the Fall. I loved the leaves colors, the moody weather, the anticipation of the holidays, that feeling of change from the harsh heat and sun of the Summer. However, the older I get the more I seem to dread this season. I want so much to hold onto those warm feelings that I used to get, but they seem to elude me. Gone is the comfort of seeing the leaves move from green to orange, red, and yellow, gone is the happiness of having cozy gray skies, gone even is the delight of the holidays or the fun of cold weather. It is most often replaced with dread, and wondering how soon it will all be over, knowing that I have to fight to cling to the hope that won’t be obvious until Spring. 

There’s also another weird war going on where I want to acknowledge that I am partly defined  by my loss, yet I don’t even want to remember that it happened. It’s like, it’s such a big part of me, but after talking about it over the years it almost feels like it should be insignificant. But it isn’t. And it never should be. My brain just seems to war between extremes. 

Traumatic events, I’ve learned, have such a big impact on the brain. The more time passes the more I see the effects of these events, specifically this one. It’s often very hard to know how to deal with them but I’m learning how. I think it will be a long battle, one I will probably have to fight my entire life. I’m not trying to be a downer, just honest. I’m wired to respond to sincerity, authenticity, and honesty. Maybe I’m not the only one. Anything else just feels cheap and useless.

There’s a lot more I could say about today, about dad, about death, about grief, but I’m out of practice. So here’s the bottom line. 

“I have been deprived of peace;
    I have forgotten what prosperity is

So I say, “My splendor is gone
    and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.”

Lamentations 3:17-26