Today is the 1 year anniversary since my Dad's death. I miss him. We all miss him. My logical mind knows that his passing was a blessing. His body had enough. My heart hurts. I reflect back with everything he went through medically and it still continues to amaze me his attitude about things and how he maintained a positive outlook even in the end. 

I really thought I was doing ok dealing with my grief. I hadn't had a moment in a while where I was loosing it at some random moment. I then happened to look down at my phone on Friday to see a text coming through from Doug with a photo of my Dad's marker at the cemetery. It had just gotten placed. This was the first time for all of us seeing it. I lost it. I'm still loosing it and that's ok. 

Grief. It travels it's own path. It's deeply healing and gut wrenching all at the same time. It doesn't make sense at the moments it rolls in to be noticed and dealt with.  I've found that the greatest source of comfort for me personally is to be all in with the grief. What I mean by that is, as the tears well up in my eyes. I feel the tightness in my chest and throat increase, instead of bracing myself to try to stop it all I lean in. I lean in to be present and allow the tears to roll. I breathe. What I've discovered especially in the last 6 months that these moments which feel like they are going to last hours end up lasting less than 5 minutes. Sometimes it's as short as 30 seconds. 

I had some notion that because I had been "grieving" my Dad and his medical situation for over a year that somehow his death would impact me differently because it wasn't a sudden event. Nope. I was wrong about all that.  Grief, it's got it's own agenda. 

I love and miss you Dad. Thank you for beautiful memories. The memories have helped to provide some comfort this past year. 

Until we meet again❤️