I wouldn't have known what to do with the information if they had. Two and a half weeks ago, tragedy struck my family in a way we could have never prepared for. A most beloved son, husband, daddy and grampy was taken from us way too soon. I say way too soon, but in my opinion, if he died just one day before me it would be too soon. His passing was in a way that most people say they want to go. He went to sleep Tuesday night and didn't wake up Wednesday morning. I'm the youngest of his three adult daughters. While we may all be adults, he was still our daddy. That's what we called him. I remember a friend commenting once, "You still call your dad, daddy?" "What else would I call him? That's his name." I responded. Father or dad was just way too formal for a guy who loved to bake cookies, tell jokes and go to Disney World.
In the days since his passing, it seems like time moves differently. I forget what day it is. I forget what I need to do or where I'm going. Perhaps the biggest change is that I can't seem to "hold it together." The most random things reduce me to tears. My eyes are permanently puffy and red. My cheeks blotchy and tear-stained. I look like a hot mess and I don't even really care.
I think as we grow up, there isn't really a way to teach people about grief. We learn about death. We learn about paying respects. We can read books and watch movies that touch on the subject, but until you actually experience it first hand, you never know what it feels like. I can write about my experiences, but I can imagine that they will only be words on a page to those of you who have never known a loss like this. To those of you who have known such a loss, all I can say is I'm so sorry for you. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
