These days have been both good and bad. Some days are better than others. I'm so tired most of the time. I have energy for doing minimal things, but then I feel wiped out after the fact. I actually went to my parish this afternoon to talk to our Family Life Coordinator who heads up a Grief Counseling Session a couple times a month. She told me to come even though we might be the only ones there. I was happy to have her to talk to.
I wonder sometimes what to talk about. I'm getting tired of recounting all the events from May 8-23. I'm getting tired of telling people my dad was on dialysis for 2 years and was sick before that. I'm getting tired of telling people how amazingly beautiful the funeral was and what a beautiful, holy death I witnessed with my brother, sisters, and mom.
I think I'm just overly tired....period.
I think I'm also tired because I actually get tired of talking. I like typing. I like blogging because I can let my thoughts roll right out of my head, and I don't have to say them. Problem is no one is listening. There are a few brave souls who have faithfully followed me away from Google Reader and are continuing to check up on me here. Others will never see me again or never know I exist. Some people will never know all the pain I'm going through right now nor how amazing my dad was.
I think that's what hurts the most. I actually blame myself some days. This is why I should've followed more bloggers, built a better online presence, expanded my network, and commented more frequently. If I would have done those things, I wouldn't feel so alone now.
Please don't be hurt by what I'm saying here. I'm just grieving because my dad is gone. He's really gone.
I just read something on Dwija's blog about her little baby in utero that is fighting to stay alive. You should go read that and pray and sacrifice for her and her little one. But it made me so sad because Dwija is so honest. Maybe that's where I lack. I lack the courage to be as real as others can be. Here's what she wrote....
Do I sound calm? When you're reading this, how do you picture me? Do you picture me sobbing with tears running down both cheeks, barely able to see the words on the screen through the mess I'm making all over my face? If so, then good. Because I am not calm. I am a wreck.
And if copying and pasting her words from her post seems like a grief/blog jacking, well so be it. I'm going to offer my pain and sadness for her little baby because I don't know where else to send all this hurt in the great economy of salvation.