Longest week ever

It goes without saying that the last seven days have felt like an eternity. Most of the family was home with my Mom, of course. Everyone taking their necessary time away from work and each other to heal in their own way. The outpouring of love and support from friends and family has been mind blowing. Acts of kindness come in the most random forms, I've always known this. However, until its you on the receiving end, you really can't admire the power of this kindness. You can feel great about doing the kindness, but having it done to you is a powerful antidote in times of grief. By no means does it replace the grief, but without all this love and compassion from random people, I feel like we'd be in a much darker place, I know I would.

If you've read this blog in its entirety, you've probably felt my anger, sorrow, frustration, and sadness towards the cards dealt to my Dad in the last 12 years. It's just not fair. He was a kind man that didn't deserve this. I returned to work today, and I just can't concentrate on my tasks, as I'm left with so many of these mixed feelings right now. Friends tell me that I should take more time off, but how does one know? I've never experienced grief of this magnitude before. How do you know when its ok to return to normalcy? People that don't know approach me and ask "How was your holiday??", and I want to just walk away. Being pleasant when I'm in this kind of pain is definitely not my strong suit. My poker face barely works when playing poker, let alone pretending that everything is ok to avoid talking about it or making anyone feel awkward. Which brings up another point, why is addressing one's grief when it comes to the death of a loved one have to be so awkward? I understand that many of us have not dealt with that kind of pain, or perhaps didn't have the kind of connection that we shared with my Dad, given the circumstances of the last 12 years. However, I've noticed this awkwardness before, because so many of us don't know what to say to someone in times of grief or suffering. You can see the difference in people that have studied emotional empathy, or experienced this kind of pain from those that have not.

Awkward or not, to me, it's all very much appreciated. I've always been a huge supporter of random acts of kindness, as was my Dad, and my Mom who still practices these acts. My only wish was those that "don't know what to say" (as I once felt), knew that just picking up the phone and being an ear to cry to, is more powerful than any words. Not just listening, but hearing someone's pain. If you don't have the words, say that, and just be there to listen. It's the biggest lesson I can take from this experience, as I was the mouthy asshole when my friend's were hurting. I received hugs from my friends' kids. KIDS coming up to make me feel better. Brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Kids that are normally shy or disconnected from other adults making sure I see that they care. Hugs from random strangers, kisses from animals, the connection we have to one another when someone is in pain is so incredible.

I know my Dad is in a better place. But I miss him so much. As the tears began to subside, the memories starting coming in droves. Some brought laughter, some brought sadness, all are necessary. One of my oldest memories is my Dad taking me swimming at the pool near our house growing up. I was probably four or five years old at the time. We are men with hairy bods, and unlike me trying to keep things trimmed up, my Dad wore his coat proud. I would ride on his back as he swam holding on to whatever I could as he would plunge into the deep end, and yes, sometimes that meant his back hair, since his skin was too slick from the sunblock. My brothers and I had a great childhood, having a Country Club in our back yard. Swimming, tennis courts, arcade games, and a burger joint all in the same space. All the kids from the neighborhood would meet there, play together, compete together, stay over at other's houses, etc. My family all played tennis, except Matt. He was the swimmer. He and Brad competed and were very good. Brad, my Mom, my Dad and I competed at tennis, but they were all much better than I was. I was always off being naughty somewhere.

My grandfather was a very talented Woodworker, which is likely where I got the bug. My Dad wasn't as much the Woodworker, but a handyman none the less. We built a huge wrap around deck that rose high above the ground on stilts, that is still standing to this day on our old house.

When we first decided to move to Seattle, my Mom had to stay behind to sell the house, and my brothers were doing their own thing at the time. So my Dad and I moved out to Edmonds, WA. so that he could get his work in the NW going, and I could finish High School. So we were kind of roommates, one might say. We'd do everything together, exploring this new and exciting place. I played football, and he'd go to almost every practice and would always tell me that I have to hit harder. I'd always find the smallest guy on the team, and lay him out. As such, I came to meet Johan, who became my oldest and dearest friend from those days. We are still friends, and he has checked in on me almost every day this week. My Dad loved Johan and we have more than a couple hilarious memories of him, but we'll just keep those ones to ourselves.:)

We miss you Dad....every day. My Mom has told me of several of your friends/family, grown men, that call her in tears. We all miss you, and love you so much.