So here's something I've forgotten too many times, but has managed to creep it's way back into my life, and something they don't really teach you how to deal with in schools, or even in your own family, really.
Honestly, if I was supposed to rely on schooling to deal with this, I'd be hosed from here to eternity. It's something that I haven't had to deal with a lot-I guess. But if you don't deal with it, that same thing could end up defining you.
Okay, it's been two paragraphs, and I know at least one person out there is wondering what on God's green earth am I talking about!! Well, here it is, plain as day. No one really tells you how to deal with the death of a loved one.
All I know so far is that everyone deals with it different. I'm still not ready to talk about my Pops passing away. I know that I miss him a whole bunch. I know my Ma is lost. I know my brother has pushed it deep, deep down and will deal with it in due time. I know that they worry about me, about how I feel guilty, about how I think I should have been there. This is all real.
When I say I'm not ready to talk about it, it means I'm not ready to type about it. If I were to try and talk about it, I'd get sad and weepy. Not exactly what I'm up for. Only very few get to see my full range of emotions. I'm not a smartass all the time. I don't cut people down all the time. I like to think I will fight for fairness. Even if I disagree with you. That's a tough fight to fight, but I would hope I'd do it. That comes from Pops.
I will tell you that I believe in the heart and the soul. They mean very different things to me. My Ma is my soul. Truth be told, I thought this would be reversed. Turns out, Pops was my heart. That thing that can beat sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Ma is steady. Pops was not. He still isn't. But I understand more of him everyday. I also know how much I am like him, some of the good and some of the bad. I'm doing my damndest to make sure that bad gets corrected or honed in a way that can do some positive.
I hope that me making the call to move back home isn't some warped way of chasing a ghost. I know I get to do my own thing, that makes me happy. What I really want to do will shock a ton of folks. But I can't catch my Pops. Ever. I can't make him happy, either. That's not what this is about. This is about me doing something for myself. Now that right there is just weird for me.
I will tell you all about Pops someday, honestly. Some had the chance to meet him. Others didn't. To those that didn't, well, if you ever hear me riled up about a subject, there's a lot of him in that. If you hear me doling out calm advice with the knowledge that pretty much all problems can be solved, that's him, too. Now, if I give you a hug, that's Ma, 100%.
They are my yin and yang, two opposites that compliment each other perfectly, that meld into something that you see everyday that is me. A walking freakin' contradiction.
I've been reading all sorts of things, and the thing that sticks out lately is this-you honor the deceased and what they meant to you not in the way you honor them, but in the way you carry yourself.
Well, Pops, I know you're out there. And I hope you're reading this, because you'll be reading a lot more of it. I learned so much from him, and lesson one is as follows-You don't owe anyone but yourself a damn thing...and that's a quote.
I wish you all nothing but peace in your head and love in your heart. Tell those closest you love them, even if they don't want to hear it. And if you can't speak it, put it out there in your actions. Give 'til it hurts. Big heart means you can get hurt real bad. So what? Better to put yourself out there and fall down than to never try.
Happy Thursday morning to those reading this in the AM.
Oh, and how 'bout those Bruins busting out the brooms.
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