The Fog Always Clears

Next Friday marks three months since my Dad died but it feels like it was both years ago and just yesterday. Time becomes an entirely new entity when you’re trying to occupy each minute that passes with the intent to make every second more valuable. I can’t imagine this will feel any better in months or years from now, or that it won’t ever stop feeling like it was yesterday. I had a dream last night that he was still alive. I’ve had many, many dreams like that since November 19th. I’ve been told it means that he’s visiting. I grasp onto believing that’s true. 

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Navigating a New Sea

Getting hold of myself the last few months has been difficult. Grieving has been projected to be this wild, emotional, tear-jerking experience but it is so much less hollywood than that. Grieving has been a slow, stagnant process. I honestly don’t even feel as though I’ve stuck my foot in the door to grief yet which is ironically the “first step” to bereavement. It’s been a flip-flop of denial, anger, and sadness but mostly silence.

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Shock, Denial, and Disbelief

I guess there are seven stages of grief. It appears as though I’m lurking around stage one– disbelief, shock, denial. 

Seems accurate.

I’m slowly trickling through disbelief– I can feel it. I can feel my body resisting it. I can feel my body shuddering through fear– my abdomen is stiff, my hands are shaky, my eyes are swelling. I am physically aching for some balance between this hollowness and heaviness. 

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