We put away the Christmas decorations at Mom’s house. The view of a log in the fireplace, the cleared out room, everything back in its spot, and the snow falling outside sounds comforting for a fresh start in January.
However this setting triggered the pain we experienced last year, when we were dealing with what happened to my dad. We’re about a month away from the anniversary of his death.
I try to change the subject in my mind but a reel replays that night in February, jumping from worse feeling to worse feeling. Time passes but the same experience replays.
I can’t believe it’s almost been a year but then I also can’t believe it’s only been a year. So much has changed, almost everything about my life is different. Yet we’re still sitting here. Her house looks the same regardless of what happened to us, to him.
I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. These firsts primarily feel bad for me but then I usually learn something that helps me move forward.
I fear waking up in the morning and seeing the snow, driving back into his driveway un-shoveled. Going to sleep each night that I feel like this, in the same bed I slept in that first night. Will I be able to stop the heartache, the vivid memories looping in my head? The anger, the questions?
Then I wake up the next morning and feel grateful for the simple fact that I survived all I was worried about the night before. Despite my struggles, I realize I am very fortunate for many reasons.
Often the anticipation has been worse than each of my first experiences without him. By the time the actual day comes, I have usually worn myself out and can find comfort. I take a little time for reflection, crying and self-pity, then more time for stressing about who needs to acknowledge him throughout the day to ensure he’s not forgotten. Thankfully the rest of the time tends to be more focused on my own happy memories of him and on being present with the people around me.
This time of year, right now, I’m struggling to access the happier memories. Grandma passed in February too. And last year, it was so snowy at this time. For 28 years I was fond of snow (for the most part) and was always excited for my birthday at the end of January. How can one night, a matter of hours, change that? Change so much?… But of course, it’s more complicated than that.
My birthday was the last day he and I spoke. I have the message he left and I also called him back later that night. We spoke after Mom and my fiance made me chicken paprikas for dinner, which he would’ve enjoyed.
In hindsight – and with a major over-simplification of my family’s complicated relationships – it really is too bad he couldn’t have joined us for that dinner.
We don’t have a second chance with him but we can simplify our own lives to focus on the people who matter, to create more firsts together.