I know this day will come once a year. No matter how I prepare myself, every year I feel like I’ve been sucker punched once again.
Each year, I think that surely by next year the hurt will have played itself out. 12 years later that hasn’t happened yet.
This morning when I awoke, it was the furthest thing from my mind. After an alarm clock mishap, I woke up feeling grumpy and cotton-headed, feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all.
I opened my calendar to confirm the time of a luncheon and BOOM – there it was. THAT date.
Today is the anniversary of my father’s death.
This morning as I drove to work, I implored myself to stay strong. I am the only woman in a newsroom full of men, and the last thing I want is to be the girl crying in the corner.
But, my mother reminded me on the phone, there’s another way to look at it…
These men I work with respect and love me. They show that to me every day – not least in the ways that they tease me about everything. I know them well enough to understand this as a sign of affection. My relationship with them is clean – we have no baggage together, there is no bullshit.
In contrast, my father loved me, but our relationship was neverclean. By my early teens, I knew that I had to monitor every word and action with him. By 20, I was carefully picking outfits and planning safe conversation topics before I saw him so that I could feel protected and in control. When he teased me, I laughed on the outside to cover how deeply unsafe I felt on the inside.
Looking at it the comparison, I see how far I’ve come. Without even trying, I find myself smack in the middle of a group of men who treat me the way I deserve to be treated: with honor and respect. And now I know that it’s what I deserve.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that when my father died, he set me free. I couldn’t do my healing work as long as he was alive because I was so terrified of him. Today, I thank him for breaking his earthly bonds so that I could escape my spiritual bondage. It’s not how I would have chosen it, but I see now that it’s the only way it could ever be.
This morning I posted on Facebook: “Today is the 12th anniversary of my dad’s death. He went out just as he came in: a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Every year I wonder if this day will be easier next year. I suppose that it has gotten easier, but it still hurts.” I received an outpouring of love and support from my friends.
And I received this gem from a dear friend: “Surrounding you in love! it cushions a lot. Like a gigantic roll of bubble wrap. And then when you don’t need it anymore, you can pop the bubble wrap. It is that good.”
Thanks Adele. I love you too. 🙂
And thanks to all of you who are so supportive of me just showing up each day to be me. You are my miracle. Thank you.
Today’s miracle: Finding love and respect in my world. Emotional and spiritual freedom. Oh, and bubble wrap.
PS – Last year on this day I wrote a remembrance of my dad from a very different place, but all of that is still true too. You can find it here.
2 comments
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Jeanette Sandor
November 18, 2012 at 3:04 PM (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Wow. thanks for your beautiful honesty! Everytime you have shared about your father, I have related on some level. My father is still alive…
Leah Carey
November 20, 2012 at 6:57 AM (UTC -4) Link to this comment
Thank you, Jeanette. It means a lot to me to know that. Sending you a big virtual hug. 🙂
The Miracle Journal | Waiting to exhale
November 14, 2012 at 9:26 PM (UTC -4) Link to this comment
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