I’m in the midst of studying for a midterm that has had me stressing for dayss but my head is about to explode in a good way, so I”m going to take a break and force myself to sit here in the Treehouse and write this.
Every first of every month has been hard and I suspect it will be for forever. When he decided it was time to go on the first of this past July, I remember sitting there thinking that I’ll forever start every month feeling that same feeling over and over again. At the time, and sometimes still, I couldn’t see how many months it would take me not to feel this way forever. It’s been four firsts, including this one today, and even though I’ve accepted this feeling, which I guess must be grief?, I have also obviously embraced other mentalities.
It’s impossible not to realize that it’s the first of every month and immediately register the months, days, different weathers, random comparisons, since the day my dad passed away. Has it only been four months? Or has it really already been four? Hm I’m not sure about that one. The funny thing about death is that people who are still here have to move on, have no choice but to relish that time indeed continues. And it’s a blessing, so we want to, and I am. But the truth is…it’s mortifying realizing how many days have passed by. As if it didn’t happen daily, on these certain days, you inadvertently panic at the concept of this time that’s passed, because with every day that passes you get scared your memory is getting fuzzier and you’re closer to forgetting the way they sounded when they snored during naps or the exact intonation of their laugh. Or if you’ve already forgotten. You can’t really look forward to anything regarding this person’s absence. And as you watch the calendar numbers change, it’s impossible not to feel you’re farther and farther away from the time they actually existed in the present, was a tangible person you could hug and observe. It could go in circles, and I can’t sit here and be in my own head today. Thing is I know and believe love is immortal, but the first of every month is none the less a little harder than the rest of the days.
However, I am not going to start every month feeling shitty. I think I decided that on August 1st. I also suspect not every first will be as noble as I feel today, but at the very least if I can help it, I will do that for myself, and my mom and brothers. I’m happy that if there were any day in the month for my dad to leave, it was the first. Because now I start every month of my life thinking about him, the life that he lived, the person that he was, and what all of that means to me and the people that loved him.. And I’m able to start the month with this willpower that I doubt could ever stem from anything else. It is sad. I’m still sad. I’m fucking disgusted some days how unfair things turned out to be, but that’s just me when I’m being selfish and thinking about myself. I know that my experiences aren’t as bad as a lot of people’s in the world, and I know I’m lucky my experiences at the very least and most, mean something. And I think I’m good, when I can start calling them experiences and not just the greatest loss of my entire life. Even if I’m not as naive as I used to be anymore, I don’t think I could ever lose hope in this life and world.
And I still remember what my dad sounded like when he snored, and the different types of laughs he had. But… time happens.
If you’re lucky. And I think in the long run, it’s better to count the days you have, or had, with people, than sitting here counting the days since they’ve gone. But if I’m going to do the latter…. then I’m going to make those days count too. So thank you Daddy and God and November for these next 30 days, because they’re going to be amazing.