Quote:
Originally Posted by kindlekitten
awwww *pets* many (most) of us have been there. it hurts like hell then gets better. promise!
ok, so my vent... I feel soooooo disoriented (?) since I have been home. several times a night I wake up and haven't a clue where I am. this feeling hasn't happened since I was like 6. for a year and a half I traveled EVERY WEEK to a new city for a project I was on. not to mention all the other traveling in hte military and work and fun travel... just trying to say, travel is NOT new to me!
I keep hearing the front door opening and my Dad saying "I'm home!" he only ever visited me in this house 5 times.
I keep waking up thinking about what my son and I need to do in the morning. he's in New Mexico still.
I can't get much beyond watching Arwen and Strider playing. I feel aimless and drifty. is this part of grief? I was allowed to do active and healthy grieving for my Grandmother and Uncle, but felt so tied in knots with my Dad... is this normal?
|
KK...Hugs!!!! I think all of this is normal.....I was not that close to my parents, but went through all of these things....it is perfectly normal....and it doesn't ever really go away....you just get used to it. Focus on the memories, the good times, the normality of life and that we all face that ultimate end. Celebrate the precious gift you were given to be with him, the precious gift that life is in all it's forms.
Here is a poem I wrote as my Father was facing his last days and I was trying to come to terms with my distant relationship to him...
Old Barn
I see it each day on my drive to work
weathered and worn -- gray as ash
tilting foolishly into the wind.
Its corners worn down at horse-shoulder height --
sunlight and rain through the roof. I
stop one day in my morning rush
to take a closer look.
A door blows open with a screech
and I hear my father yell "Don't let the
damn cows out what's wrong with you boy?"
and it takes me back to that time.
To my dreams of the future
and what it would bring
and how little I knew of life.
I think of him now in bed with no legs
leaning into his final hour and
I wonder if he thinks of those days.
I wonder if he dreams.
Kenny A. Chaffin - 4/15/01