Almost One Year

I wrote this post in 2016 but did not publish until now (Dad's birthday, 2018).
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I haven't written since February.  Why is that?  Well, it's no one reason.  Certainly, I've been busy with my now-almost-seventeen-month-old! Now a walker, budding talker, avid explorer, reading-and-music-obsessed little bundle of energy and laughter.  She gives "oo-mas" (kisses/besos) to all her dollies, animal friends (partial to monkeys, horsies, birdies, penguins, Minnie Mouse and Corduroy), and even some of her favorite books.  Her favorite foods are turkey, cheese, Goldfish, yogurt, corn, beans, bananas, berries, macaroni, tuna, chicken sausage, and the occasional French fry. She is joy and love and learning and snuggles and singing.

But I have also been busy with other things.  Grieving.  Journeying towards (but not linearly) acceptance-- of my loss, my new life and my continuously emerging self.  Trying to balance embracing my emotions and knowing my limits.  Avoiding putting things into words, written or otherwise, and instead just being.  Feeling. Remembering. Listening to Dad's favorite songs and artists.  On his iPod: his church and "Through the Years" playlists.  On Pandora: Carpenters, Bread, Janis Ian, 60s & 70s, James Taylor, The Beatles, and Guess Who radio stations.  In My Life.  Fill the World with Love.  Love is Forever.  Turn, Turn, Turn.  I've occasionally been able to watch childhood home videos and some of his favorite TV shows (Wonder Years, Felicity), even my wedding video with him playing piano and singing for us, accompanying me on Thousand Years for Galo, dancing with me, and recording his "congratulations" message for us with Mom.  I've considered watching some of our favorite movies but haven't yet for lack of time, not for lack of wanting to or feeling uncomfortable with the idea.  I've looked though photographs-- older ones are easier, the more recent they become the more difficulty I have looking at them.  But I still look at "memories" on Facebook and my Google drive and no longer avoid the pictures of him holding Nina, or the pictures of Nina where you can see his hands or his shoulder.  On Father's Day I made a whole digital album of old pictures of us with Dad and really enjoyed doing so.  (I'm dreading passing the one year mark and knowing the "memories" from the previous year after that won't include him.)

But writing or coherently praying?  That has felt more overwhelming.  I've been able to write one (incomplete) letter and one card to Dad.  The letter was on the five month anniversary of his death and the card was for Father's Day. Those brief writings did bring me a sense of healing and closeness each time.  But now we're zeroing in on the one year anniversary of his passing.  I haven't yet arranged to get the tattoo to honor him that I've been planning the whole year, having identified my 30th birthday in October as my hard deadline. I haven't journaled or blogged.  I haven't purposefully or specifically asked God to ease my suffering or help me come to accept this deep, entrenched pain of loss.  Does this mean I'm not ready to accept that it's really been a year?  That I don't really believe he's never coming back?  That one of these days I won't walk into my parents' house and see him sitting in his chair or at the computer listening to music or sipping coffee?  Or go into church and see him sitting at the organ in the choir loft?

In many ways, it feels longer than a year.  It feels like I haven't been able to see or talk to my Dad in forever.  Painfully, he feels like a part of my past.  Not because I don't think about him every single day or still feel his presence in my life, but because his physical presence in my life-- his voice-- feels so far away.  I've ached for it for almost 365 days now.