It’s been six months since we sat in that room and heard the words that broke my family into pieces. It’s been half a year we have spent without my dad. It’s been close to 180 days without hearing his voice or seeing his smile.
This half a year has both flown by and crawled by at the same time. In many aspects, it’s been so fast I can’t believe it. But in many other ways it’s been the longest and most drawn out six months of my life. If you’ve never lost someone close you won’t understand but even six months in, I feel no closer to being at the end of grief. I still feel six feet under in my grief.
For six months, we’ve hid. We’ve switched to early service or visited church with family. We’ve avoided our hometown Walmart. We just don’t want to be around people who haven’t seen us since dad died.
I still get panicked when I see someone who I haven’t seen since dad died because I don’t want to break down or have a panic attack. I know we’ve come so far in these months but we’ve still got so far to go.
I have more normal days than I used to, my flashbacks are as often- though still there. I’m longing to watch videos with my dad in it so I can hold on to his voice. We’re facing some really hard moments soon including leaving the house my dad last lived in and I’m not sure how that will go.
I’m so thankful for my mom and sister. We’re the three musketeers (or as we joke, three manytears). They’re both keeping us centered on the Lord because we know it’s only God that has brought us this far. God brought us to it and He alone can bring us through it. Grief is a long process and it’s inevitable in this part of our life.
After a while the words “pray for us” seem to repetitive, but we still need and ask for them. Our hearts are still heavy. We still want to hide but we’re continuing on for my dad.
“The sun persists on rising, so I make myself stand…”