“It’s been seven hours and fifteen days…since you took your love away.” – Prince/Sinéad O’Connor

It’s been 36 days…and it feels like sooooo much longer. There are many aspects to the death of a loved one that you don’t really “get” until you’ve experienced it. While the past 4 and a half weeks have certainly had their share of tears and moments of despair, I am struggling with not having really properly grieved, yet. Even as I type that, I don’t know what the definition of “properly” means. Do any of us? All I know is that I have stolen moments, here and there, when I can stare off into space or play music that makes me cry. Those are my only aware moments to grieve.

Because all around me, of course, life goes on. In the beginning, one is consumed with the busy work of preparing for the funeral. Simultaneously, almost cruelly, you are consumed with the business of death – phone calls, paperwork, visits to banks and lawyers. Then the family and friends arrive and it’s such a welcome respite. Then, too soon and not soon enough, you return to the place you call home and fall back into your primary role(s). For me, that is wife and mother. School (freshman and sixth grade!) starts in less than two weeks…I am going back to work…and my mom is still dying from cancer.

I have started planning a memorial tattoo to honor my dad. He would hate it (LOL) but I’m doing it anyhow. At least I hope he can appreciate the sentiment when all is said and done.

I was in Sedona, Arizona last month on vacation. While I was there, I booked a visit with a medium. It is something I had been wanting to do for years, but with Dad’s death (despite the fact it had only happened 3.5 weeks prior) I just felt the timing was right. Interestingly, Sedona is considered the metaphysical capital of the United States. According to Sedonaredrocktours.com:

“Sedona spiritual vortexes are powerful and transformational energy centers that are located at specific sites throughout Sedona, Arizona. Vortexes are the intersections of natural electromagnetic earth energy, also known as ley lines.

Ley lines can intersect in different ways, creating different types of energy vortexes. The three most common types of vortexes are magnetic, electrical and balanced vortexes.”

You either believe in this sort of thing or you don’t, and I fall into the former. So I did some research ahead of time and chose a medium at mysticalbazaar.com, the lovely Jewell. We met for 30 minutes, in which time she believes (as do I) that my spirit guides were present. We determined it to be my grandmother (mom’s mom), which I have always felt since the day she died in 1987, and my dad, which was not surprising in the least. While my grandmother remained fairly quiet during this session, my Dad had more to say. He seemed confused, and a bit stuck in transit if you will. At the beginning of our session, Jewell said he was a dark figure but by the end, he had grown more light and comfortable. He had found “the gang”, he said, which I asked and assumed were his parents and sister and brother in law, who had all preceded him in death. He mentioned his memorial! The last thing he said to me/Jewell before we closed our session was to drive carefully. He made the “driving/steering wheel” motion. Of course, we had driven to the Grand Canyon and my dad (since the day I received my license) always worried about me driving, especially on long road trips. I one thousand percent believe the soul lives on after death, and that there is some sort of afterlife. And now I feel even more assured that my grandmother is on one shoulder and my Dad is on the other.

Back to re-entry. It is rough. I had decided, before the end of the school year a few months ago, that due to my parents’ ongoing health issues I would take a year off from work. Mostly so I could be available to run down there if I needed to. If an emergency arose. It was a very difficult decision to make, but I had finally come to peace with it – especially after Dad died and I realized my mom might need more of my presence. But unexpectedly this week, I received a text from a former boss of mine asking if I would be interested in a position with her. And I was. I am. Working there made me really happy and fulfilled, and I feel like I could use all the happiness and fulfillment I can get right now. So I will likely accept the position if it is offered. But that means figuring out ways to work, mom, wife, write, and self care all at the same time. It is a constant struggle for me. I am a more of “one thing at a time” kind of person but of course, as a mom/wife, you can never really put that into practice. It is all of the things, all of the time. I worry that going back to work might be self-sabotage to other things I had promised myself and my family: taking care of me, first and foremost. But there is a big part of me that has always believed that working IS taking care of me. I feel happier when doing so because I have a more clear schedule and purpose for the day. Writing is a tricky habit/hobby and even trickier to make as a way of life because I lack focus, self-control, and discipline. No matter how often my husband or others say “if you didn’t work you could just write all day!” I know it will never happen. I cannot commit to even one hour a day. I want to write for a living. I want to lose 150 pounds (I’ve lost 75 before so I know it is possible). I want to be a more present wife and mother. I want to grieve. But I also want to work. I don’t know how to be productive if not working. Does that make sense? Not to many people, apparently.

Oh, before I forget. The Grand Canyon! We spent two days there last month and it was magical. I had never been to the Southwest before, and it truly is magic. There was a spot on the eastern entrance of the park where we watched the sunset, and for the first time in many months, I felt true peace and serenity. I highly recommend it if you have never been. Not many things can take your breath away these days.

Sorry for the stream-of-consciousness writing style in these last couple of posts. It’s an extreme effort just to get the words down.

One month without Dad. The rest of my life to go.