Grief and the Beautiful Cliches

All these cliche sayings are floating around in my head.

You're never ready to lose a parent.


Time will heal all wounds.


It will really start to hit once all the people go home.


I'll keep you in my prayers.


You will see him again.


I'm so sorry for your loss. 


Be strong!


He would have wanted you to keep going.


You need to get on with your life.


I keep reminding myself that even if people are saying the wrong things, they are trying to say the right thing.  Not all of these cliches are bad.  You could say a lot of things to me and it would not lessen the amount of raw pain I feel in this very moment.  I used to think, recently actually, that anyone around me could die, but if anything happened to my dad I would crumble.  Cease to function.  My dad has always held my heart, and in the past few years I actually started to somewhat pull away from him because I realized this.  This was literally my worst nightmare.  Obviously I would be devastated if any of my family died, especially my husband or kids, but it's different.  My dad was my rock, my saving grace in life for my entire life.  I KNEW he was the most amazing dad in the world, and I knew not to take it for granted.

Funny thing.  When we were little, my sister and I each thought Dad was Jesus.  Jesus was our Dad.  It just made sense.  We were taught how Jesus loved us more than anyone.  He was loving, caring, forgiving, compassionate, brave, humble, wise, strong, kind, giving, nonjudgmental, captivating.  This described our Dad as well, so it just made sense in our little girl, dreamy minds that the two were one and the same.  I kid you not, people.  My Dad was seriously that wonderful.  We all knew it, me and all my siblings.  We adored him.  It did not take his death for us to realize how lucky we were.  ("Blessed" is what he would say right now to correct me.)

So now here we are, and all it seems I am capable of is focusing every ounce of energy into trying to learn how to live in a world without him.  It's exhausting.  I'll think I'm getting close and then I pass a Burger King.  His favorite.  I pass someone on the road with a flat tire.  My dad was that guy that helped that person with the flat tire.  Gotta get gas, there's QuickTrip.  My dad was notorious for getting the million ounce mug from QT and filling it with Diet Coke each morning.  Well, until about 10 years ago because my mom convinced him that the whites of his eyes were turning yellow because of it.  To be fair, they were.

It just does not seem fair that so many of my friends have crappy, useless fathers who only leave them with gaping Daddy holes in their heart, yet it is my dad that leaves this earth so prematurely.  There does not seem to be logic to that.  Wouldn't God want to off all the idiot fathers and keep the really good ones?  I trust God with this, I really do.  In an odd way I love and trust God more for taking my dad early.  He never had to know a moment more of pain.  He no longer has to helplessly watch me and my siblings go through bad choices, hard situations, injustices, etc.  My Dad cared about each person regardless of their stupidities, me included.  He genuinely loved each person, and when he was talking to you, he was talking to YOU and not focusing on anyone else.  I'm not sure how he did that.  Are you starting to see why we thought he was Jesus? :)  My mom says his heart gave and gave until it had nothing left to give.  Now he gets to be in the most wonderful place, reunited with his brother, with Clyde, Parnell, and Craig.  No hurts, no politics, no physical pain EVER!  He deserved that, and he deserved to get it before everyone else.

Check out what I blogged about a few years ago: http://www.theadventuresofmarkandemma.blogspot.com/2008/08/ode-to-perfect-daddy.html

Thanks for reading :)