To My Readers
This is going to be a rough week for me, as Thursday marks the one-year anniversary of my father’s death. Not sure if I’ll be posting much, or what I’ll write if I do post.
I’ve recently realized, through the help of friends, that I didn’t fully grieve for my dad last summer. I went back to work too early. I shoved a lot of the grief deep down so that I could maintain some semblance of a normal life (or fool you into thinking I was back to normal). I didn't cry and rage and shake my fist at the heavens as much as I needed. I wanted to be strong, to make OM proud. But now, one year later, that grief has festered. And, unfortunately, festered grief manifests itself through anger and depression.
And I am angry. Angry at God for putting my dad through so much pain, so much fear, for robbing him of his dignity in those final weeks. Angry at that son of a bitch of a surgeon, the one who stopped caring once he found that the tumor was inoperable, who casually gave us that horrific news in a room full of staring people, that bastard who simply forgot about OM and left him in the hospital for days longer than was necessary. I know this rage is unreasonable, and I’ll forgive God one day soon (but not the surgeon). I couldn’t voice this anger to anyone until a few days ago … so if I can finally say it, maybe I’m beginning to work through it.
You, dear readers, have been a great source of support when I’ve written about my loss. Your comments, concerns, and shared stories have kept me from feeling alone, and you’ve been a great virtual shoulder for me to lean on. It’s a wonderful little community we have on this page, full of caring, funny, interesting people. Hopefully, as we get to the other side of this week, we’ll see a return to the silly posts common to this blog.
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