I know this is a family blog. So perhaps my stories are only supposed to be family related. I'll see what I can do: We are no stranger to grief. With such a large family comes death. An unfortunate side affect of life. Most recently my dad.
And while his death for me is one that I'll struggle with for years to come, (this isn't a cry out for an intervention, I'm o.k.) I am proud to say this past weekend, I passed another milestone. My best friend Nevada died in October 2009, of a rare brain disease called Moyamoya at 30 years old. I was devastated, and just when I turned the smallest of corners, I got drop kicked right in the face with my dad's passing.
Grieving for two people at the same time has been interesting to say the least. My dad and Nevada met only once, where Nevada was talked into putting an ad online for my dad's camper and they chatted about Detroit, where Nevada owned a house.
The thing that the two of them shared was a tell like it is kind of attitude.
On what would become our last outing before Nevada left to get brain surgery in California, I'd confided I was worried about my dad. That I felt like he was slowly trying to kill himself by not eating and drinking way too much. Nevada, who'd known me for about four years was well versed in my dad's life story pauses and says:
"Well, it looks like that's it then. I guess we know how he's decided to check out.
It's only a matter of time you know?"
Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but had she given me some speech filled with kittens and rainbows, I'd have told her she was full of shit, and she knew it.
My dad was the same way. After Nevada died, I called to tell him the news.
This time though he was having one of his more reflective days and he burst into tears, when he heard me crying on the phone. He told me I was making him cry, and then he told me that death wasn't easy, but that with time it would get easier.
He'd written to me a few days later in an email.
"The pain doesn't go away, but the wound is less jagged."
I miss our emotional connection and the way my dad was never phased about anything.
I sometimes laugh because I can picture my dad telling me:
"You know, your friend Nevada dying, kind of stole my god-damn thunder."
I like to think of it as, thunder and lightning.
Grief is pretty unpredictable for sure Kelly, keep praying for relief.
ReplyDeleteIt will come with the sun shine one day. I miss your dad every day. Its funny, we just shipped Morgan's car to Florida.. I wanted to call Brian and say.." Hey, were paying 700.00 isn't that a good price? he didn't answer.. But he did know a transition was happening.. he loved that stuff!
" I'd rather feel bad than feel nothing at all, so I'll just hurl myself against the wall" Warren Zevon.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was young and my world was tiny, death's threat was large and consuming. I dreamed about Butch and Mike Paddy for at least 5 years before I finished "not grieving" for them. You are right Kelly, we are not strangers to grief, because we are willing to feel. As time passes, life gets more of me and death gets less. By the time I die, I'll leave an empty shell and loud SNORT. PQ
I pray one day the pain won't consume you and only the good memories will bring a smile to your face.
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