It has been three months since my father died. The pain I feel is still here. I still wake thinking of him. I still cry, but not every day.
Yesterday would have been my parents' 4oth wedding anniversary. His death does not diminish the fact that these two people perservered through good times and bad.
On Saturday, Phill and I discussed our fathers. He made an interesting statement: Until your father's death we've had it easy.
I looked at Phill in amazement. We haven't really had it easy. Let me explain. In 1999, Phill's father died leaving us to help his mother adjust to live in the middle of nowhere on her own.
In 2001, seven weeks after the birth of our first child, Phill had a stroke and then neurosurgery and then a seizure. We weren't sure if he could ever be a doctor again. We made plans for him to go on disability (never really believing that we couldn't overcome all of the problems). We never had to use disability. I drove him into work most mornings for six months or he hitched a ride with our neighbors.
In 2003, we fired the contractor working on an addition to our house for going grossly overbudget and over the time frame. Phill and a dear friend managed to finish most of the work while I took care of our two year old and two month old.
The next few years were relatively quiet even as we explored other possible job opportunities. Nothing was certain those years.
Then, this year the loss of my father and whatever results with my mother because of his death. My sister and I worry daily (probably hourly) about my mother coping with this huge loss in her life. I get physically ill each day because of it.
Life hasn't really been easy (others have had it much worse than us), but as Phill and I discussed, we aren't victims. We just soldier on and find new ways to deal with life's situations.