Grief sucks.
I always knew that and expected it. People who
have gone through it before tried to help me prepare for it. But living it is a whole other ball game.
September 30 my Dad died. I watched it happen. It was an out
of body experience that I relive every time I close my eyes. I’m not going into
detail because I wouldn’t be able to do him any justice by sharing the worst
moment of everyone’s life. And I don’t have the mental capacity to share all of
the amazing things about him.
Just know that if I ever get married, my husband has some
crazy big shoes to fill. Because James Muller was one hell of a man.
Grief. It’s like that gas bubble that sits in the middle of
your chest. You feel it every time you take a sip of your drink, or swallow a
bite of food. You feel it in that moment when your crazy day stops and you can
take a breath, or when your mind starts to wander during your commute to/from
work.
It. Doesn’t. Go. Away.
I’m stuck between two things. 1) The thought that I have to
cry all day to mourn his passing and pay respect to him the way he deserves and
2) The thought that he’d HATE that and want me to carry on with my day and my
life, focusing on work and getting my life back together.
I’m a Type-A personality. I like things organized, planned
out, and crave routine. I like stability.
In 2 months I’ve had my routine upturned twice, my heart
broken twice, and have not gotten the chance to grieve either life experience
OR create a new routine.
And it’s messing with me.
A friend of mine the other day said to focus on the things that
make me happy. So, my Type A personality planned out the next 2 months of my life
so I can, in a way, make appointments for the things I enjoy.
My workouts are planned out by the time I’m going to do
them. My food is planned out by the hour that I’ll eat it. And I’m in the
process of working out some blog posts to get back to sharing things with you
guys.
Some people find it odd that I put things out there so
publicly. But, it’s therapeutic. Even this post. For days I’ve had it in my
head – what I wanted so hare. And I was avoiding sitting down and hitting the
keys. But once those fingers start moving, free therapy starts flowing.
I can’t promise the next 2 months will be filled with
rainbows and butterflies, but I can promise that big change is going to happen
for me. I’m both excited and scared for it, but the time has come to say
goodbye and I’ve got to get started on my next chapter.
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If you’re still here, thanks for reading. And thank you in
advance for keeping me and my family in your prayers as we trudge through this
stage of grief.
