Lesson 1: Death

I lost my father to cancer in 2004. It's been over six years and I can honestly say it could have been yesterday. He was truly the first person I lost to death's ugliness and he is the only loss I have felt so close to home. Since my fathers passing death has done horrible things to me. It disrupts my psyche in such a profound way it takes me back to that time. I don't have to even know this person who has passed, just knowing of them. Knowing how much they meant to someone I care about can utterly bring me to my knees. Empathy, isn't that what they call it? I may not have been blessed with much but empathy, I have in spades.

Death makes no sense in my tiny little head. The idea that someone who has here is just gone. Regardless of age or illness or circumstance. I am not able to comprehend it. To this day I still say things to the air for my Dad to hear. I go to the cemetery and talk to him. I often find myself looking at the front door when I leave Momma's because he was always there, waving me off. And I long to hear his voice call me any one of my silly nicknames once more. I am lucky enough to have recordings of his fabulous voice and I treasure them. One, recorded after he had become ill, is wishing everyone Happy Holidays, I tear up every time I hear it because he loved the holidays.

He was sick for a long time, but he was here longer than the Dr.'s said he would be. He was a fighter, that was my Dad. I admitted to few around me how sick he was, they knew he had cancer, that was all. I put a smile on my face and never let it fail. I was good at this, when I was around others. I went on with my days as though if I thought he would be better... he would than get better. I had a 45 minute drive to work, and every night the day of smiles started to come crashing around me, I let them. And for months I cried on those drives, cried the tears I wouldn't let anyone else see because I needed to be strong. I yelled at the radio and screamed with the song and got it all out in time to wipe the tears away and go to him.

One Saturday my brother and I went home, Mom said "it isn't good go talk to him" Dad preceded to tell us he loved us, to love one another, and care for one another. He told my brother to take care of his family, for his wife to take care of him. He told me the same. Both Mom and my brother told him it was okay, he could go, they understood. I stood there angry. How dare you tell him its okay to leave us, he isn't allowed I thought to myself. Internally I was screaming at them how he wasn't to go anywhere, his time was not done. He was still needed, I still needed him. And he didn't leave me...not that Saturday. I stayed home from work on Monday worried that I would not be there if I was needed. I felt useless but I was there. I went to work on Tuesday, a co-worker said I was making excuses to be young and dumb, saying that I just didn't want to be at work. That day I said it, I said it to only one person but the cat was out of the bag. "It's not good.. it's only a matter of time, I see that now" Within 8 hours of saying that he was gone. And I was numb. I know part of me died that day. The part that gets excited over Christmas and cares about my birthday. I had to be strong still, on the outside, but inside I couldn't think.

I go back there to that place. My most recent visit rocked me to my core. In this land of social networking and open forums word travels fast. It's not a matter of a phone call anymore, its a blog post or a status update. And from there the dam breaks. The flood of condolences rushes in on the pages of family members, or the lost. And our nature suddenly releases us to say things in death that in life was never said, why? That is what confounded me recently. If I were to leave this earth tomorrow, what would go on my wall? What would be written to me, to my mother, to my daughter, to my brother and to my friends? Have I lived the life of impact I wanted to? Have I told those around me how much they mean to me, and do they know how they helped shape and molded me into who I am?  Can I ask myself the same for each of my loved ones?

Death is tragedy regardless of circumstance. I call it a tragedy, not tragic, because for those in the midst of it dark grips reality doesn't seem real. An unearthly nightmare plays out in slow motion. It's been said it takes a village to raise a child, but it takes a village to mourn too. To surround yourself with memories of all the good times, to sing together and to learn to laugh again.

Restless Part I

Lately I have felt restless. No real reason, at least no clear one at this point. Change is coming I can feel it in my bones. I only hope I am ready for whatever this change is, be it good or be it my next lesson. Isn't that what everyday really is? A Lesson. A lesson in life, in love, in loss, in hope, in dreams, in failing, in learning, and sometimes the lesson is as simple as stopping to digest and than breathing again.

I don't know where this is going, or why I feel the need to write it. I am not one who is good with words. I am not one who has really discovered anything she is good at. I am mediocre in most ways, a mere average human at best. Purely ordinary to look at by this worlds standards. And I am restless.

I am an unemployed graphic designer, going back to college but with an undeclared major. Yes, I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I am imaginative and creative but those fields aren't in high demand today. I love to read, to learn, to listen to music. If I have passions outside my family and friends those are them.

Reading is my escape to the places I can not physically travel to at the moment, it allowed me to become someone else in some of my darkest days. Learning is an everyday thing for me, lately it's been more about self discovery than about what is in any of my textbooks. Music, ahh sweet music. Music is my air, it is pure to me and clean always there telling me what I want to hear allowing me to feel whatever emotion I need to let out at the moment. Music has never let me down, lied to me, or broken my heart.

I recently described myself as an unfinished piece of art, a canvas with much work left to do. I still think of myself that way .. I suppose I always will.