When Mourning Comes

Sigh. Another death in the family. This time a person who without his existence, I too may not have been created. I was not surprised to receive word of my Grandmother's passing; but the passing of my father? At such a young age? Oh yes, I was really not expecting to hear the news. I was informed that he was in the hospital because he was having severe chest pains, and I was misinformed that he was doing fine. Days later, I missed an urgent call around 5 in the morning. Before even reaching out, I knew the reason for the call. Even though I knew what the news was going to be, it was still unexpected.

Strangely enough, the older I get, when I hear of anyone's passing I never cry or feel hurt, immediately. My mind works differently. A lot of people break down first. My initial reaction is acceptance first: 'Okay, death is a part of life'. I accept it because that is one thing a person cannot control. And in the case of my father, it was unfortunate because I didn't feel as if I knew him like everyone else. I was hearing such great stories about my father. The only stories I could really tell you were maybe childhood based stories. Most of my adult life, I wasn't around my dad. I would call here and there, but he was rarely home. I don't recall him reaching out to check on me, not once, while I was away.

Now, don't get me wrong, our relationship wasn't horrible. But we definitely didn't have a deep relationship and that was why his death began to gradually pierce my heart. My first time crying was at the funeral, because the chance to build and get to know him was lost long before he passed, and now... forever.

When mourning comes, it hits everyone differently. Seeing all the strong emotions and hearing the wailing of others over his death, was sorrowful to witness. I believe that some that were crying were in pain and were having a hard time accepting and letting go because they had stronger relationships with my dad. When it was my turn to pass by his casket, I simply said "I'm sorry, Dad." and sat down. Continue reading; you'll understand why.

I cried even more while traveling back home. I purposefully searched for and played the 2017 acoustic version (way better than the original 80s version by the way LOL) of "Take On Me" by A-Ha. I wanted to get through what I was feeling and release it before arriving home. Music can be therapeutic and can draw out emotions that we attempt to conceal. I took a deep breath, and whatever came to the surface I allowed and didn't hold back.

You know the part where he sings,

"So needless to say

I'm odds and ends

That's me, I'm stumbling away

Slowly learning that life is OK

Say after me

It's no better to be safe than sorry"...

Yessss. I broke down.

Those simple but full-of-meaning words allowed me to release what I was truly feeling inside. Before I left, I received word that my dad wanted to fix or resolve certain issues before he passed. That, my dear readers, is the real tragedy. I wasn't crying because of the loss. I wasn't mourning his death. I was mourning what could have been. I was mourning for a man who, possibly, on his deathbed was fearing and fighting death while dying with regrets. I wish things could have been different. Time is a bandit.

You cannot turn back the hands of time. Don't live a life filled with regrets. That is no way to live nor die.

Not sure why, but the times that I did come visit my dad, he would barely make eye contact. I came to visit in 2016 (may have been 2017), he was lying in bed because of a recent job injury. This would be the longest time I would ever get to sit with him, mainly because he couldn't get up LOL!

The whole time I was there, he just stared at the TV. We were holding a conversation, but he never turned to look at me. Not sure why. Was he that antisocial? (Maybe that's where I get it from LOL!) Was I a disappointment to my father? Was there some kind of guilt he was holding on to? Was he ever proud of me? Was the hunting show he was watching that captivating LOL? What was it? How he felt about me has and will always be a mystery. My experience with him was definitely not the same as the stories I kept hearing about him. The goofy parts, absolutely, but having a deep rooted and connected relationship? Never. One on one, he always seemed uncomfortable around me and it made me uncomfortable, too LOL. Even on my wedding day in 2009, there wasn't much conversation between us. I suppose he was just a man of very little words. It was like he always wanted to say more to me but didn't know how to approach me- playing it "safe", I suppose.

"It's NO BETTER to be safe than sorry."

Our interactions were mostly brief and passive. If you asked me basic details about my father, I couldn't tell you to save my life. I just hope that those closest to him are getting stronger by the day and holding on to all the positive memories they can remember. When mourning comes, feel, grieve for as long as it takes you to get through the mourning. But when night finally falls, I hope you rest easy and wake up on a beautiful morning and begin to live with no regrets.

"Take on me

Take me on

I'll be gone

In a day or two..."