Missing my dad

I have tennis elbow in my right arm. After six weeks of fairly consistent hurting, I finally went to a doctor to see what he thought and yup, tennis elbow. It doesn't hurt all the time, but the ache is always there. It gets painful when I fully extend or twist my arm and when I pick things up with that hand using mostly my forearm. It often catches me off-guard when I grasp a pillow and try to lift it, and find myself struggling to complete the task. It's frustrating, but there's not a whole lot to do about it except let it heal.

Next week marks ten months since my dad passed away, and tennis elbow feels like just the right metaphor for what my grief is like right now. It doesn't hurt all the time, but the ache is always there. It gets painful when I let my emotions fully extend or twist my memories and when something reminds me of my dad. The pain often catches me off-guard when I suddenly, achingly remember with my whole heart that he's gone, and then I find myself struggling to stop the tears all over again. Sometimes it's random; other times, predictable. And there's not a whole lot to do about it except be sad and let it heal a little at a time.

It's easy to bury the sad under layers of practicality - nap schedules, feeding times, packing a diaper bag, making a shopping list, budgeting money, finding time to work, sleepless nights, exhausted days, and doing it all over again, and again, and again. But under it all, I miss my dad pretty terribly.

This weekend we celebrated (commemorated? marked? recognized?) what would have been my parents' 29th anniversary and my dad's 55th birthday. I felt the weight of these dates all week long, on top of all the regular stress of everything. It's been a rough week, to say the least, and frankly, I am not ready to start another week yet. Grief is exhausting, even in a months-later, diluted-over-time form. As I think about the next few months, I anticipate more of these heavy weeks as we approach some weighty milestones and hard holidays. I keep thinking back to where we were a year ago, so blissfully unaware of what was just about to come. I am so very aware of life's fragility right now, which I believe can be a good thing if it prods us to be more open to the present, but currently I'm just terrified of all the "what ifs" of the future based on the heartache of the past. 

I'm starting to ramble, but I needed to say that losing someone hurts, even ten months later. Because it's not just ten months of moving forward; it's also ten months of moments that you would have spent together, the conversations over dinner, the laughter, the tears, the reassurance, the encouragement, the love. And this weekend, it was the anniversary and the birthday celebrated without my dad. It's hard and exhausting, and sometimes overwhelmingly sad. And then it all becomes part of the normal again, and you keep going, until something reminds you that you are aching inside.

I miss you, Dad. So much.