Family.

This is a tough word for me to say. I love family, I do. Family means the world to me but these past several years have proved to me that family can drift apart. This is unfortunately a common problem among families these days. We grow up, we get married, we have children of our own, and then before you know it, life passes us by. Before you notice, we gravitate in our own direction and focus on our own lives thus ignoring what we had while growing up—an appreciation of sorts.


Separately.


When I was growing up, family was an integral part of my life. We had a small family, so that made us even closer. We were all living back east and all within an hour's drive from each other. Our parents were all very close and got together on a regular/weekly basis. My brother and I were at least 2-3 years apart in age with our cousins and repeated visits were common. It was the ideal situation as we were growing up.


Then when I was 9 years old, we moved out west because my father had a better career opportunity, but unfortunately this changed everything amongst our family. Although we were all still close as we all tried to stay in touch and enjoyed continual visits throughout the year, they weren't as periodic as they once were. As we got older, those visits dwindled significantly. 


I always missed that connection we had with my cousins, aunt and uncles, and spending quality time with them during the holidays and even just to visit for no reason, was something we all enjoyed to do. We took pleasure in those relationships. Back then, and it was fun and we were all very close.


Now those ties have changed. As I've gotten older, got married and had a child, I realize how important those family get togethers were. My daughter is the youngest of my husband's family and the youngest before her is 12 years older and my cousin has twin boys a year and a half older than her. She never had that closeness that I had with my cousins, and it's weird, very weird. My relatives still live back east, whereas I still live out west. My daughter hasn't even met my cousins' children, who are all close to her age, which has grown to become a disappointment in my life. My husband's family all live within an hour or so distance away, but still, we never see them, nor do we spend the holidays with them.


That saddens me. At least I would love to have the option to give my daughter that feeling of those glory days with my family that I was so lucky to have. But money is tight, and money is what will enable this "dream" to happen.


Sometimes I wonder if family could have helped me through my bipolar disorder; kept me busy. I honestly don't know, but I honestly doubt it. I just miss family all together and hope that someday we can all get together again and have our children meet.


Maybe someday soon.


Now that would make me happy.


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Burial of Emotions

Today is the day. The day of my father's burial service. I know it'll be tough to say goodbye. Perhaps this will give me the closure that I need, even though we were by his side when he passed. The entire time we were there, I never let go of his hand. I just sat there as I gazed in his eyes, even after his death, to ensure he was gone. I still can't believe it, even as it approaches a week after his death. I am in shock and I am in denial.

I look around my mother's house and I am filled with reminders and memories of him. His smell, his clothes, his glasses, his golf clubs, pictures scattered throughout. All of it. 

Sunday I will head home and mourn by myself. It's time. I need the time away from these reminders so I can be alone and handle this the way I need to. The only way I know how to. I know I will cry, and I know I will be forever saddened by this loss, but it's time I handle it on my own.

It's time for my mother to do the same. We both are mourning in our own way. Neither way is right or wrong, it's just how we need to do it. My mother has had to live with this for several months, whereas I just embarked on it. Watching him wither away into a weak and scared human being was not the father I have known my whole life. So for her, it was time that he be removed from his pain and peacefully die. 

It's what he wanted.

My father served in the Navy from the age of 18 to 22 during the Korean War. It was important for him to serve the full four years because for him, it was a matter of pride. Having a traditional veteran salute and folding of the flag and burial in the veteran's cemetery was what he wanted; what he longed for.

How can someone prepare for this? How can a daughter prepare for this? It will be just my mother and myself mourning the loss of my father. Aside from friends, we will be the only family members there. Since my brother ostracized himself from our family 2 years ago, he will most likely not attend. 

I find that sad; truly sad. Nothing breaks my heart more. He is now walking around unaware that his father has passed. I have tried to contact him with what little contact information I have. Because he continues to move around regularly, I have no idea what his phone # or his email address is. I wanted to try, at least give him the option and the opportunity for him to say goodbye. It saddens me that he won't be there, but I know my father had accepted their demise as father and son years ago. He had accepted their fate.

He was out of our lives completely.

I won't even bother applying makeup today because I know as I read the eulogy and the poem I wrote for him, it will be too emotional to keep the makeup from dripping down my face. It's easier this way. I want to cry without holding back because I want that forever ache to fulfill me.

I will not be there to look good, or even look fashionable, I am there only to mourn my father's passing. But one thing is certain, I will ensure that my nail polish is clean and unchipped. It's something my father taught me from a very young age—something that was important to him. He always said it looked "trashy" in addition to another Italian expletive that I will not share here, as I do not want to offend anyone.

As a result and as a tribute, my nail polish is applied perfectly, just for my daddy.

The house is quiet. There is nothing to be said. We're walking around as if nothing has changed, aside from the quiet pin-dropping sound permeating throughout the house. My mother and I are both very sad and neither of us don't know how to act. Again, we will both mourn in our own way.

As I sit here drinking my cappuccino, I honestly don't know what to do. I am at a loss. What is protocol, if any? Do I go about my daily chores and habits, or do I walk around the house and gaze at his pictures and personal artifacts and embrace them as I attempt to say goodbye? 

I honestly don't know. I am new at this. It's all so surreal for me.

As I sit here in the empty chair of my father's disembodied spirit, it's tough for me. I am still unable to accept his absence; his death. He's not gone. He will walk through the door at any moment now. I just know it. I have faith.

The emotions that will fill the warmth of my heart will only confirm that he will always remain in my soul and my thoughts. I will never let go of his memory. 

My burial of emotions

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