I Feel His Pain

We had my mother's celebration of life last weekend.  It was terrible and wonderful at the same time. My father is a very social person and he definitely needed the support and love from the over 200 people who attended.  But as we all know, the real work begins after the celebrations and ceremonies are over.

The pain my father feels and will experience down the line is so visceral and takes me back to those early days after Jeff died where I was lost and vulnerable and exposed.  I know I'm projecting and my experience is not my father's experience but the trauma of losing Jeff was so horrible.  The pain I felt was so intense.  It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life, the loss of control as well as an enormous void.  All of that comes right back when I look at my father.  I can feel his pain.

Looking back, I thought I was doing okay at the time, but watching my aunt going through her first year without my uncle and seeing her make some not so great decisions reminds me of my first year without Jeff and some of my not so great decisions.  But I now accept that it was all part of my journey.

I know my dad will experience mourning his own way.  I know that my aunt's journey and my journey through grief will not be my father's journey, but I do know that he will go through some very dark and painful times.

I feel a little guilty that my mom's death hasn't affected me nearly as bad as Jeff's death affected me. I know that there are many factors for not having the anxiety or trauma at the same level.  I don't know why I feel like I should suffer more than I am.  My rational mind knows that my mom doesn't want me to suffer now that she's gone, but for some reason the guilt of not suffering ruins it.

Is this another form of a guilt monster?

I hope my father's new normal comes as easily as possible to him.  I hope his pain doesn't cut too deep.  I hope I can support him in the way that he needs me.  I hope he finds happiness again.

I wish I could take away some of his pain, but I know that he has to go on this journey on his own.  I hope that I can accompany him and help him when he falls but I also know that I cannot carry him or rush him.  This is his journey and his alone.

I don't envy what he's going through and what is ahead for him, I would like to take away his pain, but because I know that pain first hand, I am ashamed to admit that I'm relieved that I am no longer at the beginning of severe grief any longer.

That level of pain and loss scares me but I cannot run from it.  It is not fair to him or me if I run.  I would like to think that I am strong enough, more prepared, and capable of surviving anything but anxiety is an ugly thing.

I need to continue to think positively so that I can help my father when he needs me.  But watching him brings me to such an anxious and dark place.  I need to be strong for him and strong for me.

But I can literally feel his pain.