Mewsings from Lowecat (aka Indianacat)

My rants, ravings, and overall 'mewsings' on life, the universe, and everything.

Saturday, August 04, 2012

It's been three months since Daddy died.  Sometimes it seems like no time at all has passed, and sometimes it seems like forever. 

Robert, the Dear Husband (aka the DH), has pretty much taken over the issues with the trust and the estate.  That's how Daddy set it up, and that's ok with me.  That means he's also responsible for takin' care of the tax situation, and that's OK, too.

Now I can concentrate on sortin' and puttin' the things I brought home from his house away.  Put the records in the record collection (and get around to fixin' the record player!), put the books in the library, find places for pictures and knick knacks, and mail off the things that I want to share with family. 

I've gotten back to the fanfic writin' after a two month break.  The long awaited chapter was well received.  I tend to work in different document types, dependin' on the computer used.  I learned that when transferrin' from email to master copy, it's best to put it all in a wordpad doc, then transfer to the master copy. 

Tig, the bike, is still under the weather.  This has been a frustration, as ridin' is my therapy.  It's an electrical issue, and the mechanic that comes to me has had health issues.  There are other mechanics, but I do tend to be loyal.  My goal is to get Tig runnin' by the time the loop for life ride happens, which is mid - Aug.  Thank Gawd for Cycle Re Cycle I and Bill, who has probably forgotten more about vintage bikes than I'll ever learn.

I worry about a good friend of mine, who lost his partner in May.  I think that we need to get together for a dinner or somethin'.  It's been too long.  I know he has family and friends, but have been so wrapped up in my own loss that the real world seems to be
passin' me by.

The house is now my brother, Danny's.  It feels strange to go there knowin' that Daddy will never be there.  There's still a lot of his things that are there; his presence is felt there.   But that doesn't mean I don't miss Daddy a lot.

Haven't heard anything from the birth mother in response to the letter I sent her to inform her that Daddy had died.  Supposedly she had a hysterectomy in June for cancer; no idea how that has gone, or if it happened for real.   I took a blue tinted rose (which once upon a time was her favorite flower) to place at his grave for her.  It was a thought, and a gesture.  After all, they did love each other at one time. 

I feel a bit annoyed/disappointed in my church, as the minister there has not reached out to me about Daddy's death.  Yeah, it's a two way street, but I sent 'em an email about it the day it happened, and the obit was on the conference web site,  what more do I need to do?  Is it time to church hunt again?  There are United Methodist Churches closer to home, even though my work schedule doesn't allow me to go every Sunday.  'Tis a puzzlement. 

I'm also disappointed in the lack of response from the conference about puttin' Daddy's obit in the conference journal; and have not found a home for Daddy's robe.  Surely there's a minister somewhere who needs a good robe? 

I carry Daddy's ID card from the conference and his Die Hard Cubs Fan membership card in my wallet.  They're small reminders that make me smile.  The AFLAC duck commercials make me think of how much he loved that duck, and that also makes me smile.

Recently, FX Network reran Sons of Anarchy Season 3, including the episodes with Gemma and her father.  Part of me dreaded watchin' those episodes.  Part of me needed to watch those episodes.  For those of you who have no idea, Gemma is a preacher's kid, just like me.  She loves her father immensely, though she has issues with her mother (uh, huh).  When she goes on the lam in Season 3, Gemma finds out her mother died, and worries about her father.  She goes to see him.  The bond between them was as potent and strong as that bond between my father and I.  Thanks to watchin' that arc, I was FINALLY able to REALLY grieve.  It was good that the DH was at Daddy's that early morning.  Had he heard me weepin' so hard, he would've been scared outta his gourd. 

For that, I say 'Thank you' to Mr. Sutter, Ms. Sagal, and Mr. Hal Holbrook for that release. 

There's still moments when I really miss him.  When I pick up the phone and start to dial the number, only to hang up before the dreaded recordin' comes on.  Or think of somethin' that he might like recorded, and realize he's not there to watch it.  Those "D'OH!" moments make the loss fresh again.  But it's a little more bearable. 

I've yet to feel or go through all those stages of grief.  Maybe that's a myth, and you never go through all of them.  Maybe you get stuck in one or two.  Maybe the stages fly by so past you don't recognize them. 

The funeral home and a few other local businesses put together a book about dealin' with loss.  It's a very nice book, leather bound.  Very religious and spiritual in guidance on dealin' with loss of a parent, child, spouse, etc..  It touches on those seven stages. 

But the part about losin' a parent was helpful to an extent.  It also gave me a feelin' of release.  Not as potent as watchin' those episodes, but it was another kind of release.  It helped.

As far as grief counselin', never got around to gettin' it set up with the corporate chaplain at work.  Maybe it's not needed any more.  A lot has changed in the last three months.  A lot has just kinda stayed in neutral.  Some people have left my life, and while the friendship of the past is missed, the drama of those relationships is not.  

I still take things one day - sometimes one hour - at a time.   I've not made a trip to Washington for a weekend off in a month.  Think the time away was needed.  Will I make a return trip in September?  It's likely.  There's still a few things that need to be sorted through in the library to get it in shape.   It's the least I can do for my brother, and for my dad. 

So thanks for takin' this journey with me.  Your love and concern and thoughts and prayers, even when not stated have been felt.  And appreciated.