Life Goes On

The other day I realized that I'm at least beginning to emerge from the funk in which I've spent the last six months. I still have black moods, moments of unimaginable grief, but for the most part, things are getting easier.

My writing's come back to me. The nightmares have ended. I go out and laugh and have fun. I don't spend every moment of every day dwelling on the accident. Oh, I still think about it, about him often, still miss him with all my heart, but slowly the pain is fading.

It's not going away completly. I doubt it ever will, in fact, I know it won't. I'll mourn for my father for the rest of my life, but my grief is no longer running my life.

It's odd. I guess I assumed I'd never be happy again, but I am. I mean, I still wish he was alive, I alwyas will, but... He's not and I am. I can't have my life stop, just because he's gone. He'd hate that idea. I know he would. He'd want me to be happy, to live my life to the fullest. He always did.

A part of me feels guilty for moving on, for not being tied to my grief. I loved him so much, how can I forget about him, if only for a day? But, then, I think of the words of one my favourite poems:

Remember
By Christina Rosetti

Remember me when I am gone away.
Gone far away into the silent land,
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of the future that you planned;
Only remember me: you understand
It will be too late to counsel then, or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far that you should forget and smile,
Than that you should remember and be sad.

I've always loved that poem. Meg read it at Daddy's service, at my request, and I thought then that it fit. It still does, that's how he would see things. He'd rather I be happy and forget him, then remember him and be miserable.

My father was all for seizing the moment. He was never one for dwelling on the past. He lived his life to the fullest and never looked back. He was so much fun, so full of life. It's still so hard to imagine that he's gone, but he is. No amount of tears or sorrow is going to bring him back to me. I know that.

I can't have him back. I can't have my old life back. I have to accept that and go on with the life I have now. I'm still grieving, it still hurts like Hell, but that's good. It's okay to hurt, I just can't let it destroy me.

I'm always going to love my father, always going to miss him, but I can't put my life on hold. I'm going to live my life, going to be happy. Because it's what my father would want, and really, it's the best way to honour him.