Dad And I Part 1

1993, the start of our healthy functioning relationship

Dad and I go way back, obviously. After losing him pretty much unexpectedly in February, I can't stop thinking about him. I swear we had at least six months left with him.

I know that is the quintessential part of grief, thinking of our lost loved ones. Grief is the mark of deep, complicated emotions and love. The emotional pain of grief is unbearable. At least it is for me. I'm in the stage where I'm not in bed playing sad songs and bawling my eyes out anymore. Or snapping at my husband, or being overwhelmed. His passing has taken root a bit, even though it hardly seems real.

The best way to describe where I am now is practicing avoidance (which is interesting because I never handle life that way—I usually dive right in, but I think it hurts too much with my precious Dad, so I've been very tactical at avoiding it). I'm not listening to music in the car, I'm purposely not looking at photos and videos, and I'm not making time in the day to "go there." Although I did create a memorial of him, I highly recommend this creative, healing process!

WAVES

But what is happening is the WAVES. I like to refer to these waves as THE MAVERICKS. Just like we got in NorCal when we lived there.

Here is a description of Maverick waves:

Mavericks is a world-renowned big wave surf break located off the coast of Half Moon Bay, California, known for its towering, powerful waves. These waves can reach heights of 25 to 60 feet or even exceed 100 feet, making it a challenging and dangerous spot for even experienced surfers. The unique underwater topography of the area, where a deep canyon meets a shallow reef, causes the incoming swells to converge and rapidly increase in height, creating these massive waves.

"Challenging and dangerous"-see, I'm too afraid to enter in knowing what diving in will do to my mind, body, and spirit. So, staying back on the shore feels better for now. Though I feel the grief mounting

"Experienced surfers"-I'm an experienced griever. Why would I want to stay on the shores of grief? I lost my best friend of 26 years ten years ago. But these Maverick waves make it even difficult for an experienced griever. Additionally, every loss is unique; each one affects our hearts in a distinctly personal way.

ERAS

Another place I've been in my grief is kind of a cool place. I realized recently that I've had five different Eras with my dad; it makes sense, I'm 50 (51), so 5 decades with him. 

Hopping around in my mind and heart to these different eras has been cool, fun, playful, painful, nostalgic, wonderful, sad, and all the things. 

I would be so curious if you've ever traveled through the different eras with your loved one?

Today, I wanted to say a bit about our second era together, the 90s. 

Our first era is hard to talk about and write about, especially now that Dad is gone. I grew up in an alcoholic home, and Dad was the alcoholic. We didn't have much of a relationship for my first 18 years. Even at his funeral, when I gave the eulogy, it was such a loss to not be able to talk about my childhood. I try hard to think of positive moments growing up with him.

What happens right after those first 18 years is the best, coolest, most redeeming story ever.

When my parents divorced in 1993, my Dad got sober. My siblings are 3-4 years older than me, so I was the only kid left in the house for a few years. I was living those tough last years in our home alone. There are a lot of sad and painful things that happened, but when my Dad got sober, I was interested in getting to know him. As a highly sensitive person, I have always cared deeply about relationships, connection, and authenticity. But growing up in a chaotic household didn't provide any of that. My Mom provided love and support and was my rock through those years, but she was trying to survive herself, so a lot was missing for me in my childhood. Endless unmet needs. I'm sure this is familiar to many of you.

When Dad got sober, I started to go to Al-Anon to try to understand what was happening and how I  could function in a relationship with him. Because frankly, I was still scared. I remember telling him that I could only be in a relationship with him if he stayed sober. How courageous of nineteen-year-old me! I remember desperately wanting to get to know my new Dad, connect with him, and find meaning in our relationship. Dad was receptive to this big time 😉. I could tell he wanted nothing more than the same thing as me: a real relationship, one that was intentional, mutually reciprocal, functional, and authentic. 

And so it began....

It sure has been comforting and equally painful surfing back to 1993-1999 in my head and heart with Dad over the last couple of months. Thinking of him in that era, and how we built a loving, trusting relationship, is a beautiful, redemptive thing, and when I got pregnant, less than a year after the photo from above was taken, our relationship solidified. I once again told Dad I for sure couldn't be in relationship with him as a young single Mom if he was drinking. I told him how I had been learning about forgiveness and that I would learn to keep trusting him. And that I forgave him. 

He stayed on his sober track. Everything changed, for the better. Our relationship turned into an unbreakable bond: his baby was having a baby, and I needed a Dad more than ever.

Here is Dad at 48 with his first grandchild, my daughter Madelynn

So many memories flood in when I travel back in time to the 90s era with Dad. 

I love imagining when I was pregnant, how much we'd hang out, and how everyone thought he was my husband. 

I love thinking about when I went into labor and he waltzed in the delivery room, talking about the cold weather, and I kicked him out, 

I love when we lived next door to each other in apartment buildings for two years, and always walking back and forth for whatever, whenever,

I love thinking about hanging out at restaurants, coffee shops, and exploring together,

I love thinking of all of my daughters' early years and him babysitting and all the shenanigans that went down with that.

I love thinking about his unending support, jokes, kindness, stability, friendship, and care that he provided in those years. 

But most of all, I love thinking about the newness yet the depth of our relationship, and how that took time, intention, work, mercy, and grace. Building that relationship and then that strong bond is incredibly unique and special, and I will always be forever grateful for that era with him. A true story of connection, redemption, forgiveness, and moving forward.

December 1999, six years into our relationship

Have you ever thought about your loved ones in the different eras that you had with them? I'd love to hear about them if you have, and if you haven't, give it a try; it's an immense comfort. I'm already looking forward to the 2000-2010 era😊