Where to put the flowers?

The subtitle for this post is, grief is weird.

Today was not the best day for several reasons. Unrest in Lesotho has me worried for the safety of people I know there. There's a giant hurricane aiming at a lot of desperately poor people on Caribbean islands, and let's be honest- I'm worried about everyone in it's path regardless of socioeconomic status, because that thing is a monster. [Side note: This is probably why it's a good thing I work full time in international development and not in full time disaster relief; my empathy would curl me into a ball and I wouldn't be very useful.] There's political storms in my own country that I wish I had the energy and spoons to do more about, although I'll always feel like I'm not doing enough, even as I do some.

But the real reason today has sucked is that it's been 14 years since I got to talk to my dad, and for some reason that's been on my mind a lot lately.

If there's one thing I've learned about grief, it's that everyone does it differently. There's no right or wrong way to grieve, which is weirdly comforting, I guess. For several years after my dad died, I wasn't a fan of fall, because it was hard. Fall was when he died, and his birthday, and major holidays just aren't the same with an empty seat at the table. Eventually though, I got to liking fall again- it was dad's favorite season, and I enjoy doing a lot of things that he enjoyed in the fall. For a while that stung, but it began to sting less. And I was all like, hey, I guess time has healed things like songs like to say. When you feel like you are back in elementary school because your favorite season keeps changing, grief is weird.

Sometimes songs are actually honest though. and say that time doesn't heal everything. It does usually make things easier. Grief does usually become more of a sting than a knife in your heart, and that's helpful for living everyday life. You can learn things that trigger you, and work on processing them (like, maaaybe not listening to country radio in the office right away, because holy sad songs batman).

But there's always the random things that blindside you. I remember being very anxious on the first anniversary of dad's death, and being relatively surprised that I made it through intact. Not without tears and remembering, but intact. Then I went to a Japanese steakhouse later that month and almost ran out of the restaurant as we were sitting down. I had completely forgotten it was where we spent my dad's last birthday, and the memory coming back and the music just set me off with no warning. Grief is weird when guys throwing flaming meat around makes you overwhelmingly sad. [Sidenote: This doesn't make me sad anymore. It was that particular steakhouse that particular time. I still like Japanese food a lot.]

Grief is weird when almost 14 years later, you go through boxes that have been in your storage unit for who knows how long, and start to make a keepsake box for things that belonged to your dad. Then you pause and stare at the box and get really angry that other people have dads and you have a box. And then you stop sorting boxes for the day and try to regroup. Grief is weird.

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I feel like when you lose someone, you grieve the lost of the person, and also the role they filled in your life. You can grieve the loss of a certain friend, and also the fact that you don't have a friend that knows you really well that you can call at 2am.

This is the first time in a while I'm really grieving just... not having a dad. And I'm not exactly sure why. Nothing earth shattering is happening in my life currently that requires paternal input. And for the record, when lots of stuff like that did happen in the last 14 years, my uncles and other adults stepped beautifully into my life and helped me a lot. This is not me feeling fatherless because of a lack of family and friends as an amazing support system.

No, this is just me missing my actual, real dad. Wanting to be a family of 3 again instead of a family of 2. Wanting to discuss things- anything, everything, with a wise, kind, and funny dad. Wanting to plan a camping trip and learn how to make a Thanksgiving dinner over the fire. Wanting a good dad hug, that I've lacked for more than a decade.

And sometimes, I'm okay with the grief, even though it sucks a lot, because it reminds me of what an amazing dad I had, and that he's not replaceable. And sometimes I'm not okay with the grief and would really like to ask God a few pointed questions.

Currently I'm somewhere in the middle of that, debating whether to move the flowers off my dining room table, because they are from church 2 days ago, in dad's memory, and they are kind of making me sad. They are really pretty flowers though, including a lily, which was a sign to my mom shortly after dad's death that he was okay. And my whole apartment smells like flowers at this point anyway. When you're debating where to put the flowers, grief is weird.

And that's all I've got. God is good, I'm okay (I promise), and grief is weird.