enna Posted March 10, 2013 Report Share Posted March 10, 2013 When your only child wants to mourn her father you stop what you are doing, sit down and open your heart and listen hard. Our daughter’s visit this weekend was two-fold. She came out to be with me because of the recent health scare I am having and she wanted to be with me as I sorted through some of her father’s things that were still in the same place they were in before Jim died. It was heartbreaking and yet an honor to listen to her remembrances of her daddy. It tickled me when our thirty-eight year old, mature, sensitive, loving mother of two beautiful children told me that she wished she had had more time with her daddy. During her early years she was always arguing with him about something! She was her daddy’s girl – opinionated and oh so stubborn. She cried when remembering him helping her roller skate. She was so proud to have her daddy go with her to Bozo’s Circus when she was five. We had to get tickets when she was born because that was a very popular show then. She loved the daughter/father dances Jim always took her to no matter how busy he was or how tired he was. There were so many good memories of her graduations, honors, marriage, birth of two babies, baptisms, and school days for the grandkids. She was so happy that her daddy was able to share her joys of motherhood. This was her weekend to actively mourn her father’s death. I felt honored to join her as she remembered her daddy. I felt proud as I listened to her talk about her daddy. I was comforted to see that she was taking this grief journey with dignity and grace. Her empathy for me was touching. She asked me how it was now that a part of me was gone. I was touched by her deep concern and felt that her daddy would be so proud of her to take on such a caring role. The sorting of Jim’s things did not happen. Not yet. I am not ready. And that is ok with me. We bonded again as we both visited the nail/pedicure spa and ate lunch laughing and talking about my grandchildren. Her eyes lit up when mentioning her children. She thanked me for teaching her how to be a good mommy. That surprised me for a minute since the two of us did not seem to agree on anything when she was in her teen years! More often than not I heard “you are the worst mom” over and over again. Oh, the joys of motherhood. Her parting words to me as she left for the airport were “do you want me to call your cardiologist, I know how to talk to doctors, I deal with Kevin (her hubby, an OBGYN surgeon) all the time?” I smiled and told her that I am a big girl and I can take care of this but thank you anyway. It was a good visit. Now we’ll go back to our Skype visits until later in the spring and I shall try to continue my mourning for Jim, the love of my life. It will be a while (if ever) before I can figure out how I’m going to live without him being physically with me. I miss Jim’s presence so deeply that I catch myself holding my breath and have to remind myself to breathe! I sometimes think that my heart does stop just out of sheer pain when I realize that this is my new reality now. I am glad that we are not prepared for this kind of pain because I would not be able to bare it. Almost ten months without Jim and it seems like only yesterday some days and like an eternity other days. How do we adjust to this new and different way of life? Will our search of who we are now ever be discovered or are we doomed to a life of only half selves? Would we all be better off if our loved ones came back to us for just a while to tell us that all is well, live life because we are ok, enjoy this part of your life because there are far greater times ahead? We are different. We are not the same. I have to believe that it will be better than it is right now. This grief is so cruel and heartless. Will I come out of this a more caring, sensitive person? Can I truly say in my heart and believe it ‘Your Will Be Done” as I have believed all these years? I choose to but it is a struggle. I am trying to take ownership of my pain. I am trying to walk this journey with dignity and grace. Perhaps I can learn from my daughter and choose to be grateful for all that we have. Anne Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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