So, which was the tough day?

A friend expressed a few days ago that she would be thinking about me and my family as today approached--6 months since Dad's death on June 27th. My brother David gave an account of the impact on him in his blog; Mom added some of her experience as a comment there.

Friends checked in on Mom today, knowing the calendar day (what a thoughtful thing to do). Mom and I reflected this evening on how today hadn't been much different from other days. I do recall Mom noting on Monday that "it was 6 months ago today"...Dad died on a Monday, so Mondays are more of an impact for her.

For whatever reason, I haven't been one to think about this in terms of weeks, months, anniversaries. So, was I impacted in any way? David's blog got me thinking back. Christmas dinner, Sunday the 25th, comes to mind.

Mom and I went out for a nice meal. We'd kept things generally light the whole day as well as on the long drive there and during the wait to be seated. After being seated, we looked around at the nice atrium setting; we enjoyed the beautiful koi gliding in the indoor waterway. Then there was a still period. Our eyes met. It was a moment to not shove thoughts of Dad out of my head. It wasn't "wrong" for us to reveal our grief to each other. In silence, we gave each other knowing nods and were tearful. We didn't know exactly what loss the other was experiencing at the moment. But we knew we both missed having Papa there.

I don't want to remember the details of the day Dad died. I was there--there's much I want to forget. But I'm not unwilling to grieve my loss of his friendship.

This discussion has reminded me how everyone's pain is their own and how they process it is different. I appreciated my brother's observation well before June that there weren't rules, that everyone would face Dad's death in their own way. I remember how helpful it was for me to connect with Patty in Australia a good year before Dad died. Her father had just passed away and she wrote about it in her blog. I wrote to her and she shared more about her experience, admonishing me to make the most of my time with Dad. Over the next year, she gave me additional glimpses into her own journey of dealing with the loss of her father. It was so helpful. Am I now doing the same for someone else? I hope so.

Soon, Mom and I inhaled, looked elsewhere, changed topic or whatever. I suppose this Phoon activity was in part a distraction for my mind, one of the ways I seek to "resume normal life." (Dad would've shaken his head and, with a slight smile, chuckled at the activity.)