Monday, February 20, 2012

3 years

It's always hard to believe it's been 3 years since Thatdad died.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday we were speaking on the phone.  Other times it seems like we've been living this life with a missing piece forever. 

This past year has been an especially big year for us, and although it has been filled with a great many joys, each comes with it's own painful reminder.

Thatdad missed so much this year that he would have loved to see.  His son getting engaged to a beautiful woman, who Thatdad adored.  The birth of his first grandchild.

I don't know if Thatbrother feels the same way, but part of me does feel like Thatdad is a part of these events, even though he obviously isn't.  The night before we took a home pregnancy test, I had a dream.  I was in the bathroom taking the test while Thatdad waited outside for the results.  It was positive.  I woke up feeling like I knew what the test would say, and that Thatdad also knew.

Following the brit milah, we took Thatbaby to the cemetery to "meet" his grandfather.  I wonder how that's going to play out when he gets older.  I don't looking forward to explaining, or trying to explain to Thatbaby why we visit and why grandpa lives there.

Even now, I sing Billy Joel's Lullaby to Thatbaby during naptime.  The lyrics are on Thatdad's grave, and as I sing, it never fails to bring tears to my eyes.  Thatbaby laughs at me when I cry.  I'm hoping that's a phase he grows out of and I'm not raising a serial killer.   I imagine how my dad would interact with him, how he would spoil him, how he'd react to the smiles, the talking, the outfits.

At the same time, as I said before, not having Thatdad around seems less of a foreign concept.  What they must mean by "the new normal."  We've all moved on in our own way.  There are less moments when I reach for the phone to call him, or expect him to answer the phone when I call Thatmom.  It's become natural to refer to "my mom" instead of "my parents."  And for the most part, we've all returned to our regularly scheduled programming. 

Part of me feels like my dad would be happy we're all moving on with our lives, healing.  Part of me feels like he'd be sad that he was "forgotten" so easily - he was like that.  Hurt when you chose not to go to the supermarket with him. 

But whether he'd like it or not, we've all made it through another year.

7 comments:

  1. As they all say it does get easier with time but your dad was obviously a special part of your life and still is.

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  2. I know how you feel - it will be 3 years in July when I lost my beloved brother. It's at the point where I still think of him every day, but I CAN get through the day without crying.

    I love how you remember your Dad, through your blog and through your baby.
    It's a lovely way to keep him in your thoughts.

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  3. My dad passed a couple of months ago. It was unexpected and has been so hard. This whole thing sucks and there are some days where I cant get out of bed. Thank you for sharing all of this, makes me feel like there is some hope.

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  4. Your post made me cry and laugh out loud (the serial killer part). I can't imagine that Thatdad would believe that he's forgotten. Just because his absence isn't the foremost thought on your mind all day, doesn't mean that he isn't missed or that he is forgotten. I'm sure he would want you to be happy.

    ((hugs))

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  5. I obviously didn't know your dad, but I have the utmost faith that he would want you to be happy and to move on, but never forget him. The new normal is the best we can all do, even if it's not ideal. Sending you hugs.

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  6. Your post just made me cry! Sounds like he is far from forgotten. It must be hard to experience such happy moments with a missing piece but, by the sound of the post he would want you to be happy. A big hug.

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  7. Big hugs to you. I like that you are carrying so much of him into your son's life.

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