I have not let anyone see how deeply I am grieving the loss of my father. I miss him so much. I knew several weeks before he passed that he had little chance of surviving. There were too many things against him recovering. I knew, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I was grieving even then, but I couldn’t let my mom or my sisters know. I needed to maintain my composure to give them hope.
In a way, my dad knew he wasn’t going to make it too. He told me that before my grandfather died, he was on pills and had many physical problems. He told my dad, “this is no way to live.” My dad didn’t like it, but he understood it. A few weeks later he died. As my dad was being wheeled up to the ICU from the emergency room, he held my hand and said, “Michael, this is no way to live.” He was letting me know he was tired and wanted to go. I understood, but I didn’t like it. They brought in a social worker to talk with me.
I feel like a lost child. I had my dad, my role model and hero for my entire life. Every day of my life, my father backed me. He stood by me even when he didn’t approve or agree with me, because I was his son. I was so proud of him. I moved to Florida to be closer to him, and was so happy when I moved my parents into my home so I could take better care of them. He only lived in my house for nine months, but I believe he was happier and had a better life with us.
I am grieving even now, but I can’t show it too much because my mom is so sad and depressed and she needs me to be strong for her. I listen to her every day, expressing her grief. She asks God why He took my dad, and she thanks God for giving him to her for so many years. She has been a model of faith and trust in God in the face of so great loss. She feels like she has lost her reason for living. She needs to lean on me, so I need to be strong.
The day I sat down with the social worker in the hospital, I knew he was dying. They put him in the ICU. I went into the hospital chapel and cried. Thankfully, no one else was there. After that brief moment of grief, I needed to be strong for my mom and sisters. I shed a few tears at the funeral, but even there, I needed to be strong for my mom. Her grief is deep, so bearing it is very hard. Eleven days later, I went out on my patio, lit a cigar, and cried. After a good cry, I went inside and continued to be strong for mom.
I know its not emotionally healthy to hold it in, but there aren’t many outlets. Prayer is an outlet. I will be checking out grief support groups. I can’t afford to come apart at the seams. God has given me comfort and support, and I am grateful. I truly believe God is merciful and kind. I believe my dad is with Him. I believe I will see him again, and we will be reunited. While I have no desire to die at this time, I no longer fear it. In some way, I look forward to the day I will be with my father again.
I write this post through tears and sadness. I miss my dad. I know I will miss him for the rest of my life.