It's been a few years since my last blog. Ok, four years actually, but who is counting? So much life has happened in those few short years! We got married (hello, Mrs. Ackerman!), I switched jobs, joined the 30 and over club, bought a house, bought two new cars, had a BaBy and added a new puppy! It's been a lot, to say the least. So many happy memories have filled my heart. Yet, lately, I've come to realize that in a month 15 years will have passed since my dad left.
When we found out he was sick I was 15-years-old. It hit me, I've literally lived an entire life since my dad got sick. For as many years as he was on this earth with me, he has been gone the same amount. And, since most of my memories are that of a child, I can't seem to remember him the way I used. The stories are fading, and so are the people in my life that knew him (and the old me). All the steps of grief have come back, except for denial, I know he's gone. Mostly, I've been in an anger rut. A continuous, "why me?"
I feel a lot of this stemmed from the birth of our daughter, Charlotte, this past June. She is growing up in a world without him. And to me, it seems completely unfair to her. I've accepted that it is my life story, but I cannot get past the resentment I feel for her loss. She never even got a chance to know him (unless she sees him, in a way I can't. I know kids have a way of seeing those who have passed that as adults, we simply cannot.).
My cousin, Molly, gave me such a great help with this "why me?" recently. She told me she believes God has this deck of cards full of bad situations that he has to hand out. When he saw the deal my family received, she believes he knew we were the only family strong enough to come through this, and still be good people. It was simply amazing, and just what I needed to hear. She said she believes the reason "bad things happen to good people" is because God knows they will still be good people after the bad thing happens.
So, last night I got this feeling, and I couldn't fall asleep. I've been trying to figure out for all these years why this happened, and I knew a part of it was to get to this exact point. I needed to revive this blog and share my story. So, here we go...
Meredith, at almost sixty years old, I feel your pain. My mom died when I was just seven. My dad told my brothers and I that God needed a special angel in heaven and that's why he chose our mother. It helped for a time, but the older I got and the more I realized I needed her, it seemed to just not be right. Then along came my wonderful husband and family to follow. You are so very fortunate to have a loving husband, beautiful daughter, and a large extended family who loves you dearly. Continue to embrace their love and give your own, and one day you will all be reunited once again.
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