I don't know how to grieve. I don't think I do it right. I don't even know what right is.
That said, I think I know this: if Dad had mourned my mother in a way that kept him from the world, commemorated each milestone, no matter how small (diagnosis, first round of chemo, first surgery...) he would have missed out.
He would missed out on meeting Caryl. He would have missed out on marrying Caryl. He would have missed out on moving us to a new town, high school, and not to put it too dramatically, a new life.
He would have missed out on life.
For me, I won't mourn the day he had a stroke, the day he entered hospice, or the day he died. I'll only celebrate his birthday and I'll sure as heck celebrate the daily little things that make me smile. Like, when I hear the song, "Peaches" by The Presidents of the United States, I can kinda hear him sing it with Oliver and I. And that makes me giggle.
"Take the smiles, disregard anything else." -Me
That said, I think I know this: if Dad had mourned my mother in a way that kept him from the world, commemorated each milestone, no matter how small (diagnosis, first round of chemo, first surgery...) he would have missed out.
He would missed out on meeting Caryl. He would have missed out on marrying Caryl. He would have missed out on moving us to a new town, high school, and not to put it too dramatically, a new life.
He would have missed out on life.
For me, I won't mourn the day he had a stroke, the day he entered hospice, or the day he died. I'll only celebrate his birthday and I'll sure as heck celebrate the daily little things that make me smile. Like, when I hear the song, "Peaches" by The Presidents of the United States, I can kinda hear him sing it with Oliver and I. And that makes me giggle.
"Take the smiles, disregard anything else." -Me
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