This week marks ten years since my dad passed away. It feels odd writing that. I've been without my dad for so long now it's hard to imagine what life was like before. And there is a definite before and after that moment. A Rebecca that never got to develop and grow because of what happened on that day ten years ago. A version of me I'll never meet.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about this so publicly, but it would've felt wrong if I didn't acknowledge the significance of this day. I remember it so clearly, no matter how many times I wish I could forget it. Walking home from school with my brother to see Mum in our Grandma's car. At first, I thought our car had broken down. But no, we were told that our dad had just died. Earlier on in the day, I'd enjoyed a really great flute lesson and all I can remember thinking is that when I was playing flute for my teacher, was my dad already dead and I didn't know?
His loss was a huge shock for us all and each morning after, I would wake up thinking oh god it's real. He's never coming back. At 15 it's hard to comprehend how the loss of a parent can shift the entire trajectory of your life. Nothing was ever the same. Our family of four overnight became a family of three. Then came the birthdays and anniversaries, the first Christmas without him, and the first holiday with just the three of us.
Over the last ten years coping with this grief hasn't become easier, but I definitely think about it less frequently. I guess I've just become used to not having him around. School and university took over, and when you are busy it's easier to pretend that none of it ever happened. Of course, this probably isn't the healthiest way of coping with grief. I do worry sometimes that I'm going to forget what he sounded like or what we used to talk about, just him and me. It's not only that I miss him, I miss having a dad. A paternal constant in my life. The relationships you have with your mum and with your dad are different, and I want to have that back. It's hard seeing my friends with their dads, knowing I'll never have that again.
I've also found that grief manifests itself in random moments, when you're least expecting it. A few weeks will pass when I don't think about my dad, and then I'll watch something that reminds me of him. Just the other day I was watching an episode of Gilmore Girls, in season 2 when Rory comes out at a debutante ball, and her dad presents her to society. It wasn't even a big plot point but it got me all emotional, beacuse I thought about all the moments my dad has missed out on.
I've never told anyone this, but I even have recurring dreams about my dad that seem to come out of nowehere. He appears at our house like he's just got back from a long holiday. And then it's strange trying to get back into our old routines. In my dream, I try to reason with the thought that I was a teenager the last time he saw me, and now I'm 25, a grown women and in many respects a completely different person. Have I changed beyond recognition? I grapple with this adjustment, as we get to know each other again, and then all too soon I wake up, with the realisiation that none of it was real.
This last decade has been hard but I'm proud of the person I've become after such a truamatic event. I think we often forget how strong we can be in the face of adversity and I hope my dad's proud of me, wherever he is. If you're reading this and you're struggling with feelings of loss and grief, I hope you know that you're not alone. No one knows the extent of what someone else is going through, so be kind!
Love,
Rebecca
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