Slowly, VERY slowly, it starts to hurt a little less.

I wrote this post in my journal on April 13th, the day after the 3 month anniversary of Dad's passing. I sat in a crowded breakfast restaurant, alone, and wrote for quite a while. I cried, as I wrote. I didn't bother to try to hide my face, as people walked past me looking curious, judgmental, and sympathetic. I ignored them and kept writing. I had to. I was having one of those weeks, actually 2 of them, where I couldn't see a light at the end of the tunnel. It had to come out, so here it is.

Well, yesterday was the 3 month mark of Dad's passing. I was alright for most of the day and I honestly didn't even think about the date, until later in the day. 

Dad's birthday was on the 9th. That day was a little rough for me. I decided that we should go out to dinner and celebrate his birthday, as a family. It was a really nice dinner. Everyone got along. We laughed and had a good time and everything felt normal. It was a nice night. 

This has been a really rough year already, for so many reasons and I can say that I honestly can't wait for it to be over with. 

Since Dad passed away back in January, both kids have had birthdays, my daughter had her first county wide chorus performance, my parents' anniversary has come and gone, I have gotten officially divorced (feeling like a COMPLETE failure, there), my ex-husband's birthday has come and gone, the relationship that I had with my girlfriend of a year and a half came to an ugly end, resulting in the kids and I moving out AGAIN, and now we're coming up on my birthday (which I could honestly NOT care any less about, at this point).

It really is all moving along so quickly and the pain of Dad's passing has begun to hurt just a little less, but there are still those moments where I see, hear, or do something that I want or feel the need to tell him about or show him, so I'll start to call him. That's when it hits me and the hurt is fresh all over again. Though it doesn't burn as bright or for as long as it once did. This is how I know that the healing has begun. Well, the healing from his passing away, anyway. All the other stuff? Yeah...... That's gonna take a bit longer, I'm thinking.

I believe the hardest part of all of this is the fact that I have to get through and figure all of it out on my own. I don't want to. Some days, I'm not sure if I can. I want someone else to direct me and tell me what to do and what is best for each person involved. I want to revert back to my "robot mode" and work my ass off and not think or feel anything. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way and neither do I. When I try to turn off my thoughts and emotions, people can see it. Well, the people in my life that care enough and know me well enough to see it when it happens. When these people see me start to shut down, like I've been trying to do lately, just to make the hurt stop for a little while, it worries them. I don't like to make the people that I care about and that care about me worry, but I also feel like there are times that I feel like I NEED to completely shut down just to make it through. 

I want my friends and family to know that I will be ok in the end, but I need to shut down from time to time and it's not because of them. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to shut down just certain parts of myself and keep the other parts of me that affect them up and running. I've tried and I continue to, but I have never been the type of person that can separate one part of myself from all of the other parts. It's all or nothing, with me.  

Written on St. Patrick's Day, 2014

It's been quite a while since I've posted anything that I've written. I have written a few times, but the mood always strikes and things come pouring out when I am nowhere near a computer. I took to carrying around my journal (yes, a REAL LIFE leather-bound paper journal WITH A REAL PEN to write in it) to write down my thoughts. In the instance of St. Patrick's Day this year, I didn't have anything to write in or with, but I had my phone with me. I had to write something, because it was the anniversary of an important day in my memories of my dad. So, thanks to the Evernote application (which has saved my sanity, memory, and sometimes a 2nd trip to a hardware or grocery store) I was able to type out something short and quick, as it came to mind. I figured that I would post it later that day, but as it always seems to do, the day and my life got quite busy and hectic. Now that I have the time and the quiet, I figured it was as good of a time as any to go ahead and get it up. (even though I'm about a month and a half behind, such is my life)

Dad and I St. Patrick's Day, 2011

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, I guess. 

This is yet another bittersweet day. Today marks 3 years ago that my father had his first chemotherapy treatment. 

That day, despite the circumstances and everything life was throwing at us, was a good day. We laughed together. A lot. We cracked inappropriate jokes with and about each other, as this Bosworth is known to do. We hugged each other. We hoped together. 

But most of all, we loved and supported each other. And we made sure that each of us knew it. 

We are a family, in the sense that we stick together and are there for each other. No. Matter. What. Family, given or chosen, is what is most important."