I had so many things to share with my dad this week. I won at Scrabble, which never happens since the other women I play with are exceptionally good. The temperature hit 100 today, which is really high for the area I live in, while in Palm Desert, where he lived, it hit 101, which is kind of low for this time of year. My AC went out two days ago when it also hit 100 (they got it fixed within 24 hours, but it still got awfully hot in my apartment). I got a new sofa.
As you can see, it’s not earth-shattering things I’d be sharing with him. But it was the kind of thing that could keep us talking for two hours on a Sunday afternoon.
Only problem is, my dad died on May 4th of this year.
Most of you who follow my blog know he died after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer. It was a shock, he was so healthy, he didn’t take any medication and was extremely active. Family history said he should have lived another eight to ten years.
And now I’m battling my grief. I can’t share the simplest things with him, not to mention some of the bigger things, like leaving my job and getting my gall bladder out, both of which happened in the last month. I’m happy and I’m healthy. I want him to know that.
I know all about the stages of grief–denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I’m not sure where I’m at. I’m past denial. I’m not even sure that one lasted very long. I don’t really feel a great deal of anger and I haven’t done any bargaining. I don’t feel depressed, but I don’t think I’m fully at acceptance either. I simply miss my dad.
Today would have been the day I call him. I probably would have brought up football as well, since we’re in the pre-season, even though I was the bigger fan. He knew the game really well but rarely watched it. If there was a big game on at the time of our call, he didn’t mind if we postponed a day.
I’m lucky to have reconnected with my dad in the last few years as we had had a tepid relationship for so long. We rarely spoke, although those conversations sometimes were long, and while I knew he loved me I didn’t really feel like he had time for me. He was so busy with his life and frankly, I was busy with mine.
It was after his wife died that we became closer. I barely knew her and had no idea she’d been battling Alzheimer’s. They became virtual recluses until shortly before she died, when he finally put her in a memory care facility.
I called him every day after that for several weeks, then every other day, and eventually we got into our weekly call habit. He flew me out to see him several times and treated me like a princess while I was visiting him. We’d planned another trip for October of this year, but of course that won’t happen.
I think I will miss my dad for a long time.
1936-2026
Image Credits: Grief header © Anna Lurye–stock.adobe.com; Sun © mimibubu–stock.adobe.com; Happy Girl © Alena–stock.adobe.com
My World With Words 
I’m sorry for your lost. It’s a great reflection of your time spent with your dad. I’m grateful to see you two have reconnected! Praying for healing and peace for you and your family!
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Thank you. Yes, I’m also grateful we reconnected. The love was always there and we proved that to each other. Thank you for the prayers.
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My heart goes out to you. I know I offered condolences before. I want you to know that I feel and understand what you are going through. My dad died seven years ago in June. My dad gave me something I will always hold on to. He saw me, as an individual. There were eight of us kids. He seemed to know each of us. When things get sensitive, I hold on to those special exchanges and appreciate more what he gave me. While the pain of loss is still there, I am comforted by what I received. Memories and moments are our treasures.
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You are absolutely right. It’s beautiful that your dad saw each of his kids as individuals. I’m trying to remember the conversations between me and my dad and the other special moments and hold on to them. Thank you for offering words of comfort.
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Glad to help when I can. You are in my prayers.
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What a heartfelt and beautiful post, Belinda. I can feel your grief with every word. Not being able to make those phone calls is so hard. Although it’s been 14 years since my father died, I think about him often and imagine myself talking to him. I know he would be so proud of his grandson and of me. I like to think he knows.
I’m sorry that he didn’t live additional years, especially since he was so healthy. We never know how long we have someone and I’m glad you were able to treasure time with him the past few years. Sending you much love.
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Thank you, Judy. I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness and understanding. Losing a parent is difficult, and I know it takes time to heal. I’m glad you have the reassurance your father would be proud of you–and, of course, of your grandson.
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I am so sorry. Grief is never easy and I don’t think we ever get over losing someone we love. We learn to live with it. It becomes part of our story. I’ve always thought that grief is like the ocean tide. It comes and it goes.
Did you retire? Congrats on the new sofa. I hope your recovery from GB surgery was quick. (I had mine out 13 yrs ago). Thank heavens for AC repair people.
May the coming months offer comfort and joy.
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Thank you, Dede. I need to learn how to live with the grief, and I guess that takes time. Yes, I retired, and it still feels strange! The surgery went well and my recovery was quite quick! I was so happy to be able to eat without getting sick.
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Belinda, when you posted this I felt that there was nothing I could say to make this journey of grief easier for you. It is what I hope for you to find some peace and relief from the reality that in all the things you mention your Dad is not there with you to share your deepest thoughts, your feeling of “simply missing” him. I remember how the feeling of missing my Mom was so intense, desperate, the loneliness without her. And the truth in missing her was that I would miss her forever. I think of her every day. You will miss your Dad forever. But missing him will become less intense and bring peace when you think of him and the memories you shared. I don’t know if you already journal but I can’t tell you how journaling to my Mom after she died helped me. It brought me a great deal of comfort and peace. It doesn’t work for everyone but it helped me. I just talked to her. I still talk to her through journaling… not as often but when there is something I want to share with her I grab my newest journal. I still miss her but the heartbreak does not hurt as much. The frustration of her being gone is not as hard. One of things I journaled early was missing seeing her get out of her car with a cherry pie and shouting “Hi, sweets!” Now when I go back to that entry my heart is happy and I smile… maybe a little teary but I am thankful for the gift of the memory that is so clear.
Belinda, don’t feel like you have to publish this comment. It is so long. It would be fine with me. I just wanted to type to you.
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I want to publish your comment because it was very helpful for me and I want to go back to it when I can. Thank you for the support. Journaling is definitely something I can do and perhaps it will help turn the pain to the joy of remembering.
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