A Letter To My Dad…

Processing my grief pain

Dear Dad,

I helped Mom move your clothes out of your closet last Saturday. It was a heavy task and I didn’t want her to have to do that alone. I cried. Didn’t want to have to carry them downstairs either all at the same time. It was very hard to see your things on the bed downstairs and remember you wearing certain things. Mom kept ones that still smell like you. I set aside a few things that I might want and thought perhaps Jill might too. Brought some home for Steven too.

It feels surreal writing this. I know I’m processing grief pain but my brain wants to distance me from all the pain of this reality. You aren’t going to ever wear those clothes again. I know that and I don’t want to know that too. This step made it all too real. I suspect my sleep challenges this week have been from needing to process this very painful experience and not having had the space and time to do so until now.

I miss you and as the months have moved forward that pain has grown sharper as my body’s natural anesthesia is gradually lifting. I’m grateful that my body has helped me through with its’ healing powers.

I felt a bit distant from you and from my sorrow this week. Just couldn’t take on facing this pain till this morning. It is hard work letting you go. I wonder how Mom can do her work facing that empty house every day and not be completely overwhelmed. Being here in my home and in my life affords me some distance. Perhaps this is both a blessing and a curse as I can all too readily become myself too busy with my world and avoid my own pain. I am grateful for this opportunity to face the music of my grief. My tears are helping me heal.

I love you-

Jude

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