The Morning After

It’s been roughly, 7.5 hours since my dad passed. I wouldn’t say this is the second day since, but definitely the first waking morning where life just feels.. off.

I’m not good at these kinds of things, nor confronting people in their darkest hours(most so related to death), so when it comes to my own healing journey, now *that* is a doozy.

I feel so many things, my mind is racing filled with, ‘what if’s’, and ‘maybe’s’ but simultaneously it is running blank. It is so clear because I laced up my running shoes and bolted from the train station the minute I got the news.

I’m not really sure how to go forward, I just know that I have to. Or, at least that’s what society tells you to conform to. In my own personal opinion, I think I must just for financial reasons, and becoming a sappy, sad sack of potatoes, and all the work I’ve done for my mental and emotional health would go to absolute shit if I let it- which, that road was hard to go down to begin with, so that’s gonna be a hard pass for me. Trying to take each day by day as it comes, but this moment to moment shit is horroring in itself.

I feel guilty, confused, inundated, restless and exhausted at the same time, lost, distraught, want to cry in a puddle, but also want to be productive to sooth my mind, get back into the routine. I don’t want to jump immediately back on the horse, but I know that just sitting at the stable staring at it won’t get me to the gold like I want(that’s my life metaphor for the day). I’m heavily distracted and muted, that nothing really seems to even remotely pique my interest. I guess this is the beginning stages of grief, huh?

I don’t deal with relationships very well to begin with, let alone keeping in contact with the people that are in my life, in the same state as me; yet this is something I’m working on through therapy. As well, when something tragic happens in my life, whether that be a bad day, someone was immensely rude to me, I got fired(for the record that’s never happened), broken up with(unfortunately this has), etc., it’s very hard for me to graps, depending how close it is to my heart, and I tend to always recluse and ponder by myself, close myself off for an undetermined period of time.

This territory, heavily untrekked, is something I’m very eery about having to go down. My grandparents on my dads side, never met, moms dad passed when I was too young to realize what funerals were and I thought he was going to wake up when I approached the casket. My only grandmother that I’ve ever had, was different and the relationship was bare-minimum, unless theres a lower layer than that, then that one. She was *hella* old school, and as far as I can remember, said the feeeewest words ever and sort of just existed and floated throughout life. It wasn’t until she had a few falls and bone breaks- no thanks to my ratchet nieces and nephews- that she had a few death scares and she got a little spark back into her life. She’d offer us more weird treats and be more into playing and being the ‘grandma’ role.

I was excited. I always avoided her place, out of my own issues, as I tremendously regret that, obviously; but I made a promise that when I came back from my latest trip at the time so go over and spend more time with her. She started sharing her old family photo albums with me shortly before I left, so the urgency to return and share all my travel stories and experiences with her was huge.

She passed while I was volunteering at this place in Lisbon, Portugal, and as wildly enticing as that city is, that was a hard period in my life to handle all on my own. She wasn’t my mother, but the only tie I had to my family heritage. That ending hit hard for me.

Fast forward to the ending of one heck of a fucking legend, not only my blood, but my parent. That’s one of the biggest slaps in the face, knockouts, burying me in the ground, pissing on my grave feelings. As dark as they come, it’s almost like being caught in the dark, quiet, unknown, safety of that end of life box, sounds a lot better than being here in the present, with arms wide open, no net, no restrictions, no idea of what the fuck is coming next. More terrifying than being six feet under.

My mind keeps returning back to empty, unsure of the next steps to take. I’m sad because such an immensely important piece of my life, my upbringing, my livelihood, my identity and heart have taken a one-way ticket ride to no return, and as sound as I should be knowing he is finally at peace; a selfish part of me wishes he was still here. Rightfully so. Who wouldn’t want their daddy with them for the rest of their life? Standing by their side, uplifting them, being their stronghold when the going gets rough.

I don’t know how to grieve, although I really don’t think there is a ‘one-size-fits-all’ kind of manual for this kind of thing. Different people heal in different ways. I’m trying to keep from going to that bottomless pit of misery and sadness, depression, ‘woe is me’ point of no return point. My sadness comes in waves. At the rush of a thought, someone this morning mentioning the moving of their grandpa to their moms home, a character on a tv show singing a sad song about never getting over someone- were just some triggers that startled my heart before my morning coffee.

This is obviously a hard time for anyone, and as I recluse I feel the guilt following me like a shadow for wanting to be in my own solace, not wanting to spread the darkness, but in return I forfeit being there for the others that are grieving in this hard time as well.

The struggle is real I’ll tell you. In a way this is to help my journey, in another way, if I keep these thoughts to myself I’ll be sure to wake from a blackout digging my own grave.

And another way to keep ode to my Dad, the memory alive, for some part of me feels like if I don’t have this or any type of feelings with him in them, relevant to my heart anymore, I’d be letting his memory fade out and wither away just like him.

These are my feelings from the heart, mind, body and soul. Healing one day, one paragraph at a time.

These are the expressions for you, Dad, my Jacquimo. I love you more.


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