So it's been a full eight months since I've blogged, and a lot has changed. My dad died. I bought a new house. I passed prelims. In that order. I had the most stressful semester of my life. This summer has been full of change. Amber has a new (temporary) job. I learned how to install and mount a medicine cabinet (even if it's crooked). We painted the entire interior of our house. I did a lot of physical activity this summer, hoping that it would subside a lot of the grief I still get from losing my dad. I still cry every once and awhile about it. I just can't believe that he's not here anymore. He doesn't exist, at least not in the material world in which I reside. To be honest, because that's what blogs are for, I've had an existential crisis since my dad passed. Witnessing his death was one of the most profound and memorable experiences of my short life. And it is short. His life was short. He would have been only 58 years old right now.
I realize that this is "normal". That grieving people go through this. I put my "healthy living/lifestyle" experiment on hold - not because I wanted to, but because I had to. In fact, I had a hard time holding on to the goals, the PhD, the house, friendships, family, strong relationship, spirituality...all of my growth goals got put on hold. I tried to exercise during the last six months. I actually tried all of my coping mechanisms. They just didn't work. For the first time in my life, I didn't have a solution. Maybe that's what grieving is. I tried exercise. I tried going out with friends. Meditation. Yoga. Studying. Not studying. Long walks. Gardening. Baths. Talking. Silence. Nothing made me feel "better". Then I realized, I would never feel "better" - in the sense that I would never feel the same way I did again. No one ever tells you that losing someone is like losing your current reality. My reality, not just his, will never be the same.
I thought I was prepared. Mel = preparation. I'm surprised I haven't started stock piling water and canned goods for 2012. Maybe this fall ;). You can't prepare for death. I was told that he was going to die for 31 years, and he didn't. Death was always knockin - with comas, with illness, with hospital beds, with conversations about death. Let's just say I have no problem writing a will, or purchasing a life insurance policy, or thinking about my own death. I've been comfortable talking about it from the age of 3 or 4. Still, real death is different. I felt his body right after he had passed. He wasn't there anymore - already stiff, already cold. His bright blue eyes were gone. And now they live within me.
I know how cheesy this sounds. It always sounded so cliche when I heard other people talk or write about it. And I know this blog post has little or nothing to do with my physical health. Or maybe it does. Losing my Dad this year was one of the worst experiences, but it's also a new chapter, a new book. It has to be. Most change "hurts" - both metaphorically and physically. This change has taken a toll - on my soul, on my body. But resilience is appealing to me - especially in the fall. Fall brings back the beauty of habit, of routine. It left for awhile in the summer - a time that is reserved for pleasure and letting go. But it's always comforting to know that there will be another season, another chance to come back, reinvent, reconnect. Another moment to let all the reflecting and philosophizing metamorphise into something tangible, something physical. A moment to take action.
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