For the past year, I have been dreading today. Not sure of how I would be able to deal with it or how I am supposed to feel. Not sure if anyone else wants me to bring it up or if they’d rather deal with things in their own way.
For a while there I thought that I was going to be okay. That I wasn’t going to have this massive breakdown that I am sure most people expect my crazy-filled self to have. Then I started with my spontaneous crying in Las Vegas and I knew I had been fooling myself and no one else.
When I arrived back in England last Sunday I had a meltdown. Whether brought on my jet lag, pregnancy related hormone madness or just pure grief, I felt myself feeling exactly how I’d felt the day I lost my Daddy.
To be honest, I still feel that way. I thought that it would get easier. A lot easier than it has. But it is hard to let go of the feeling that it is not fair. That it shouldn’t have been him that the world lost on the 18th of August last year. And I strongly believe still, that it shouldn’t have been him.
What has been hardest is all of the unanswered questions. I cannot comment on the hurt, loss, emptiness, or sadness that you feel when you lose a parent after a long illness. Surely, the pain is as great as anyone who loses their parent suddenly, but there exists an opportunity for all that needs to be said to be said. You have a chance to make sure that person knows how much they mean to you and how much you love them. I never had that chance, and I never will. And all I want to know is if he truly knew how much he was loved.
I don’t think he did. And as much as people try and convince me that he knew, there is only one person who could have known, and I’ve lost him.
So here I am a year later, nearly 14 weeks pregnant and feeling like a lost little girl all over again. I am sure that I will make it through today, and tomorrow, and all the days that follow on, but it is difficult to ever get back the girl I was before this all happened since I will never know: a) if he knew how much I loved him and how much he meant to me and b) if he felt completely lonely when he went through the terrible thing he went through.
I had been hoping to have a somewhat quiet and sombre day, but it looks as though I can give up on that idea. Though I’ve got to think of the poor baby inside of me who must think her or his mother is a complete lunatic with all of the nose blowing, shakes from crying and coughing from this chest cold that is going on.
If my Daddy was here, he’d know how to make me feel better. Well, I wouldn’t be sad, but he’d be able to help me get through all of my not so lovely pregnancy side-effects. And I think that is what is making this seem all that much sadder. I always counted on my Daddy to be here when I went through this stage of my life. I always imagined that he’d be able to answer all of the questions that I have and be able to get me through any scary parts. And at the end, he’d most likely be the happiest person (aside from myself and Lee) because that is all he really wanted for when he died. Now, he is the only person who doesn’t get to be a part of this all. And that breaks my heart over and over again.
I’m still waiting to wake up, but a year on I am guessing I should start accepting that I will never have my questions answered, I will never get to say all of the things I wish I had and I will never get to say goodbye.
I just hope that I can properly explain to BOB how much his or her grandad would have loved him or her… in fact how much he did, without ever knowing them.
