The "new" Normal

Song Suggestion:  Yesterday  by Leona Lewis

If you have lost someone you love, whether it was unexpected or you watched them slowly leave this earth, you know the raw emotion that comes with the healing process.  I like to give the example of wading through waist deep water.  Very cold, waist deep water.  You would like to move a little faster to get yourself out onto dry land.  Land.  Something that is sturdy and familiar.  Only to find that you cannot sprint though water, you wade.  But you have to press on, moving almost in slow motion. 

  Slowly life has moved on for my family and I.  But it has changed.  The loss of my Dad has transformed the entire dynamic of my family.  I have waited for life to become normal again.   Only to realize that a new normal has been created.  The life that leaves him in the past, in my memories.  In the pictures plastered on my walls.  In his hand writing on the cards and letters that I have saved.  He's always lingering somewhere in my mind.  Or in a song on the radio.  Sometimes the sense of loss will pour over me and I feel as if I want to rip my heart out of my chest.  Because for one moment I want to be done feeling.   I want to know what that feels like.   

I had a moment tonight that caught me off guard.  I don't like those moments.  You don't see them coming and then it smacks you upside the head and leaves you spinning and sinking.  Trying to claw your way to the surface and regain your composure before people notice.   As I sat in my Sunday night Bible study I was asked how many years it's been since Dad died.  I am Ok with that question, but for some reason a nerve was hit.   Maybe it was because I was tired and I tend to be a bit more emotional, or maybe it was because I didn't have Justin beside me tonight, to put his hand on my leg and let me know I am strong and that everything will be fine. I don't know.  But I answered with surprisingly little emotion.  

Suddenly others from my group began to converse about their loved one's who are battling cancer and winning.  For now.  Excuse my negativity,  and I had to swallow slowly and breath very deeply.   I listened to them discuss the effects chemotherapy and radiation has had on their sister's and mother's bodies.  I felt guilty for not being able to really know and feel what Dad felt, how much he suffered.  I wondered how much pain he actually hid from me so I wouldn't have to watch him suffer.  I was angry that he didn't make it.  It was a painful moment and I wanted to run out of the room, jump in my car and sob.  We ended our study.  And I did.  For four blocks I cried.   As I pulled into my church parking lot to pick up Cole, I pulled down my visor, wiped the streams of mascara from my face and sat there staring at myself.   Cole climbed into the Explorer, I turned around to look at him and cleared my throat.   In my best happy mommy voice  I asked, "How was church buddy?"   He didn't stop talking till we got home fifteen minutes later and I was very grateful.  

Life goes on, painful moments happen.  I am allowed to struggle with this. I find peace in that.  In the end I had an amazing Dad, and I was lucky....  When I lay my head on my pillow tonight, my heart still aches.  But I feel peace.