Other than the tragic and difficult end to my second pregnancy at 21 weeks, I’ve not had to deal with the death of loved ones much. 

I knew to be on the alert for perhaps an irrational grief-process at the passing of my father. Here’s a bit of what I wrote in my journal yesterday:

I  had a meltdown yesterday morning. I was such a grump…really, really angry.

While I was making lunch, after I finished slamming doors, I started talking to Randy as if he were in the apt with me and sharing his grumpy-surliness with us. And then the tears started to flow.

Right then I was angry with him. I was angry that his choices left me with none. I was angry that he abandoned me again…for the final time this time. I was angry that he was gone…without saying goodbye. And that one is the chiefest of all angers, perhaps. Because he knew for months and months that the end was probably nearer than farther away. He could have reached out to me. I did not know any of this, so I didn’t know to do the reconnecting. So I am angry.

There’s also a surrealistic nature to all of it. It’s hard to imagine that he’s gone-gone. Since he’s been gone to me for a good while now. It’s hard to remember that this farewell is forever…at least with regard to human form.

Is his spirit nearby? Has he come to check on us and to see his granddaughter?

So I cried as I made lunch for the attachlings. It was good and right and cathartic. I felt cleansed and released when the tears were dry.

I’ve had a few discussions with Randy since then. I believe it’s completely irrelevant that he’s gone. Whether his spirit can hear me or not, this is a process that I must go through.

I talk to him about my anger and my feelings of having been abandoned once again. For regardless of his reasons, he did abandon us when we were small children. He did think he was delivering us to a better life…but to a child, left with ‘monsters’ how can it be other than abandonment?

I also asked for his forgiveness for my silence in the last five years. Even though I feel that it was a choice he made to not be a part of our lives, I can also take responsibility for the fact that I didn’t challenge it.

But most importantly, I came to a place where I could really and truly forgive him for these choices. Now that he is gone it helps no one for me to hold on to hurt or hard feelings.

I am sad he never met his beautiful granddaughter. I am sad that he never pushed past his own issues to be a part of the lives of his only three grandchildren.

But I am no longer angry with him for his choices. I am sad for him. I have compassion for whatever was going on in his own heart and spirit that wouldn’t let him pick up the phone and say, ‘I was wrong.’

I know this grief process is not through with me yet, but I am grateful for moving through some of the anger.

On to the day with the attachlings…

Mary

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