A Year Unblogged

When blog becomes confessional: “Forgive me, Blogger, for I have sinned. It has been 369 days since my last post.”

On June 9, 2009, the last time I posted and my dad’s 96th birthday, he had a pulmonary embolism and never regained consciousness. Two days later he died. I knew I would feel enormous sadness; but I naively felt that would pass quickly since he lived a long and full life, dying as he would have wanted to—quickly and without suffering, while still mentally sharp enough to cheat at cards and physically able to take care of himself.

It took months to regain my equilibrium. I gained weight—never a great challenge for me, but the grief process seemed to invite extra tubbiness. I felt sad, depressed, out of it. I learned about accumulated grief and conscious grieving. The life and death lessons were valuable, and they sucked.

Last Wednesday was hard with the double whammy of it being my dad’s birthday and the anniversary of the day he functionally died. I talked to my sister, and we both boo-hooed together for a bit and then laughed as we reminisced about the funeral. (Ironic and maybe almost blasphemous, but it was a great funeral. Although plenty of tears fell, there was even more laughter in celebration of my dad’s love of life, his keen wit, and the happy memories so many shared.) There was something about that anniversary and sharing a final mourning with my sister that completed the circle.

It’s good to be back.