In keeping with the recent theme of, "Until today I've never ________", I'm breaking a habit of 10 years. For 9 years I didn't tell anyone when the anniversary of my dad's death was. I would tell them maybe in passing when I told them the story, but rarely do I tell more than 3 people the significance of August 11. So, "Until today, I've never made a public announcement it's the anniversary of my dad's death". Here's a picture of my family the night I graduated high school (the last picture I think we have of my dad):
Why this year? Because this year is 10 years and it feels like a big deal. This year I thought perhaps other people might want to hear what I've learned. So, here are 10 lessons I've learned from losing a loved one, in no particular order.
1. It's never enough time. People always say things like "It was just too soon," or, "I wish I had more time". I've learned that it never feels like "enough" time. Things always feel left undone. You can choose to be bitter about that or be thankful for all the time you did have.
2. Shortcomings matter much less. As an 18 year old girl, I could tell you all of the ways I felt like my dad wasn't perfect. I had quite the list of things he could have done better and a list of places where I was right and he was wrong. My dad wasn't perfect, no one is. :-) For the record, that man loved me like CRAZY and was a GREAT dad. What I realized is that after he died, those shortcomings rarely matter. I'm much more prone to remembering my dad's good traits than his bad. All of my list of reasons my dad wasn't perfect seem really insignificant now.
3. Sometimes I mourn more for what I will never have than for what I have lost. I have lots of great memories about my father and lots of things I really miss. At the same time, I get even more sad and angry at the memories that won't happen. Harvey Gatlin (my dad's name, in case you didn't know) will not be walking me down the aisle of my wedding. Any future kids I have won't know him. Two whole sets of friends have never met him. The exciting thing is how I get to reframe those memories- such as listening to people tell my kids stories about my dad.
4. Grief is rude. Let's be honest, rude was NOT the word I wanted to use here. :-) Grief comes at the weirdest times and makes happy moments sad. It hits you in the middle of the grocery store when you almost burst into tears because Buy for Less doesn't have kalamata olives. Eventually, it becomes more manageable, though.
5. It gets easier... and it doesn't. This might be the biggest paradox. Grief doesn't feel like it's about to suffocate me anymore; it is not my constant companion. However, it's still hard sometimes remembering what I have lost or will never have.
6. Well-meaning people say or do things that do not feel kind. For more on this issue, see my blog Here. I cannot tell you the number of ridiculous things people have said to me in an attempt to make me feel better. Please hear my heart: I'm so thankful people care. I understand they're trying to help. Sometimes help is just saying you're sorry for the person, that you're thinking of/praying for them, and letting them just be who they need to be.
7. There's a club, I'm not alone. When you lose someone you love, it's easy to feel like you're all alone and that no one understands. I remember wishing I knew someone who lost their parent at a young age. I wanted them to tell me how to get through this and that I WAS going to get through this. Since August 11, 2002, I have been able to talk to at least 4 friends who had someone close to them die (3 dads and a sister). I'm so thankful for them that they don't have to feel as if no one understands.
8. Everything (almost) is normal and everyone is different. I've known people who seemingly fell apart when someone they loved died. I've known others who you would never have known anything had happened. Feeling paranoid another loved one would die? Normal. Wanting to escape reality? Normal. Guilt? Normal. I also find that the outside world (who is not experiencing your grief) often times wants a 10 step guide on how to love and support those grieving. Sorry. We're all different. I said before that I don't usually post what today is on my FB. Other people need for their world to know the milestones. Neither is bad- they're just different. Take your cue from the person.
9. I'm not sure closure exists or what it looks like if it does exist. People talk about "closure" a lot. If I just knew this or we had just finished that, I would have closure. If closure means I can rationalize what happened, then I don't so much believe it exists. If closure means I can make peace and move on, then it totally exists. It's different for different people and different people get there in different ways and at different times.
10. There is good in every thing. I'm an optimist. It's really part of my nature. I constantly look for the good in everything. Right after we found out my dad died, I thought, "Well, at least we don't have to keep coming to the hospital every day." In the midst of sadness, I watched friends and the community pour out love on my family. During that time I saw the best in a lot of people. At the same time, God proved Himself incredibly faithful. I prayed that I would have at least one friend at college (for which I left just a week after my dad died). God gave me an army. Through grief (not just in my dad dying, but in a lot of things), I've seen the kindness and goodness of God. Yes, even through all of this, I know that I know that I KNOW that God is infinitely more kind and gracious than my little human mind could ever comprehend.
Well... there you have it. 10 lessons. 10 years. I'm so thankful for all I've learned. I'm so thankful for the community that has come around me and loved me. I'm thankful for relationships that have been restored because of my story. I'm thankful for the moments (such as talking with a friend whose dad just died) that give meaning to my situation. Above all, I choose to be thankful for the 18 years, 4 months, and 15 days with my dad instead of being bitter about the years without him.
Why this year? Because this year is 10 years and it feels like a big deal. This year I thought perhaps other people might want to hear what I've learned. So, here are 10 lessons I've learned from losing a loved one, in no particular order.
1. It's never enough time. People always say things like "It was just too soon," or, "I wish I had more time". I've learned that it never feels like "enough" time. Things always feel left undone. You can choose to be bitter about that or be thankful for all the time you did have.
2. Shortcomings matter much less. As an 18 year old girl, I could tell you all of the ways I felt like my dad wasn't perfect. I had quite the list of things he could have done better and a list of places where I was right and he was wrong. My dad wasn't perfect, no one is. :-) For the record, that man loved me like CRAZY and was a GREAT dad. What I realized is that after he died, those shortcomings rarely matter. I'm much more prone to remembering my dad's good traits than his bad. All of my list of reasons my dad wasn't perfect seem really insignificant now.
3. Sometimes I mourn more for what I will never have than for what I have lost. I have lots of great memories about my father and lots of things I really miss. At the same time, I get even more sad and angry at the memories that won't happen. Harvey Gatlin (my dad's name, in case you didn't know) will not be walking me down the aisle of my wedding. Any future kids I have won't know him. Two whole sets of friends have never met him. The exciting thing is how I get to reframe those memories- such as listening to people tell my kids stories about my dad.
4. Grief is rude. Let's be honest, rude was NOT the word I wanted to use here. :-) Grief comes at the weirdest times and makes happy moments sad. It hits you in the middle of the grocery store when you almost burst into tears because Buy for Less doesn't have kalamata olives. Eventually, it becomes more manageable, though.
5. It gets easier... and it doesn't. This might be the biggest paradox. Grief doesn't feel like it's about to suffocate me anymore; it is not my constant companion. However, it's still hard sometimes remembering what I have lost or will never have.
6. Well-meaning people say or do things that do not feel kind. For more on this issue, see my blog Here. I cannot tell you the number of ridiculous things people have said to me in an attempt to make me feel better. Please hear my heart: I'm so thankful people care. I understand they're trying to help. Sometimes help is just saying you're sorry for the person, that you're thinking of/praying for them, and letting them just be who they need to be.
7. There's a club, I'm not alone. When you lose someone you love, it's easy to feel like you're all alone and that no one understands. I remember wishing I knew someone who lost their parent at a young age. I wanted them to tell me how to get through this and that I WAS going to get through this. Since August 11, 2002, I have been able to talk to at least 4 friends who had someone close to them die (3 dads and a sister). I'm so thankful for them that they don't have to feel as if no one understands.
8. Everything (almost) is normal and everyone is different. I've known people who seemingly fell apart when someone they loved died. I've known others who you would never have known anything had happened. Feeling paranoid another loved one would die? Normal. Wanting to escape reality? Normal. Guilt? Normal. I also find that the outside world (who is not experiencing your grief) often times wants a 10 step guide on how to love and support those grieving. Sorry. We're all different. I said before that I don't usually post what today is on my FB. Other people need for their world to know the milestones. Neither is bad- they're just different. Take your cue from the person.
9. I'm not sure closure exists or what it looks like if it does exist. People talk about "closure" a lot. If I just knew this or we had just finished that, I would have closure. If closure means I can rationalize what happened, then I don't so much believe it exists. If closure means I can make peace and move on, then it totally exists. It's different for different people and different people get there in different ways and at different times.
10. There is good in every thing. I'm an optimist. It's really part of my nature. I constantly look for the good in everything. Right after we found out my dad died, I thought, "Well, at least we don't have to keep coming to the hospital every day." In the midst of sadness, I watched friends and the community pour out love on my family. During that time I saw the best in a lot of people. At the same time, God proved Himself incredibly faithful. I prayed that I would have at least one friend at college (for which I left just a week after my dad died). God gave me an army. Through grief (not just in my dad dying, but in a lot of things), I've seen the kindness and goodness of God. Yes, even through all of this, I know that I know that I KNOW that God is infinitely more kind and gracious than my little human mind could ever comprehend.
Well... there you have it. 10 lessons. 10 years. I'm so thankful for all I've learned. I'm so thankful for the community that has come around me and loved me. I'm thankful for relationships that have been restored because of my story. I'm thankful for the moments (such as talking with a friend whose dad just died) that give meaning to my situation. Above all, I choose to be thankful for the 18 years, 4 months, and 15 days with my dad instead of being bitter about the years without him.
