In remembering… a year has gone. Still healing from the 4 intense years, and then some. It’s surreal to become aware of the moment you realise that you must take on the role to be a parent to yourself, which I did as a kid at 7 years old, but also an adult, and to realise how far I’ve come. I had become my dad’s parent for the last four years of his life, celebrating the small joys, mourning the continual losses and felt the deep anguish, the entire experience left me the most vulnerable I’ve ever been (teamed with another huge life change in my personal life) and allowed me to grow in leaps and bounds. I learned just how deep unconditional love could possibly go, and just how deep the sense of anguish would feel like when I wished I could do more for him, and even for the others in his care residence, and having to accept that there was nothing more I could do, in my given capacity as a solo caregiver. I had to learn how to power process and stash things away, in order to keep going and taking decent care of myself, such as that it was ok to break down and cry. I also knew that I would somehow be forced to revisit these at a later time… when the time was right to complete the healing and growth process.
The revisiting came unexpected a couple of weeks ago, then subsided. Yesterday another huge wave crashed into me. I realised it wasn’t so much that I miss my father, in fact, I feel at peace that he didn’t have to suffer too long (part of the anguish), that it was long enough in his lifetime. I grieved for the hard times that I didn’t have the luxury to process, times I felt his anguish and frustrations, and how my high level of empathy meant I would feel just too much sometimes. I grieved for the alines I had felt in that journey, how many friends who couldn’t empathise became apathetic, how I felt so hurt and lonely in those moments. I cry for remembering the unexpected people that stepped in, and the moment when a friend told me that it could be because I’ve been so strong, people rather not worry and just chose to believe “she’s fine.”
All of the emotions from then now pour out in bits, as I release them back to the earth. Grieving has been a process of finally acknowledging just how hard it was, all the feelings I felt and fought, now having the capacity and time to process it, and letting it go on a deeper level than just mentally. It made me realise that I had stopped writing after my father’s passing, and now feeling the need to write again… Thank you Vida, for your one time reminder and encouragement to me to keep writing a couple of years ago, when I stopped (dayswithfather.tumblr.com). It still stays with me now, when I start to get the inkling to do so. I have started to write again, to finally share just how hard it was, to have courage and strength to deal with one adversity in the face of another.
I won’t lie, being strong is hard and sometimes a very vulnerable place to be. I have days where I simplify feel tired of being strong. Being strong doesn’t mean that I feel less or am affected less. No, in fact, I feel more than the average being a high sensing person. Being strong doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate or need offers of support and people to take care of me, it means the world to me because that it means that they care and I feel supported. I didn’t receive the support = love from my parents growing up, it wasn’t in the cards, so this was to be one of my love languages, with words, and the other by doing and by touch, I can’t tell you how much it boosts me up when I receive genuine hugs when I’m not in a place to give one.
October 22, 2013
Back to this day last year, I had one and a half days of my holidays, the day was to re-explore the old town of Prague, and then London on a layover of 9 hours. I didn’t want it to go to waste, so pushed through the sense of numbness. It was like a dream, surreal, as I made my way out of the rental apartment, and started my journey. My mind was numb, as I feel today, unable to focus very well.