an empty space

"You die in the middle of your life. 

In the middle of a sentence."

- The Fault in Our Stars

From here.

People seem surprised when I say I'm still sad, that I'm always missing my dad. Most people have told me the same thing. Friends, and family, and church leaders tell me that those feelings will go away, it's not forever, you will find peace in your faith.

But I've found that's not necessarily true.
My experience seems to prove the opposite, if anything.

Since my dad passed away, I've read anything and everything about death. This article from the New York Times was especially helpful:

"When disasters strike we may have an immediate empathic response, but underneath we are often conditioned to believe that “normal” is where we all should be. The victims of the Boston Marathon bombings will take years to recover. Soldiers returning from war carry their battlefield experiences within. Can we, as a community, keep these people in our hearts for years? Or will we move on, expecting them to move on... Mourning, however, has no timetable. Grief is not the same for everyone. And it does not always go away. The closest one can find to a consensus about it among today’s therapists is the conviction that the healthiest way to deal with trauma is to lean into it, rather than try to keep it at bay. The reflexive rush to normal is counterproductive."

This article about stealing time was also touching. I wish I had a stolen day with my dad.

When you lose someone, they are gone. It is final. The spot they had in your life is now just an empty space. And those spaces can't be filled.

Nothing can change that.

Sweet Becky shared this quote with me soon after Christmas:

"To resolve your grief you must accept the fact: What was will never be again. You will have to give yourself permission to grieve for it. If you do not, you will never appreciate the future which may be even better or more meaningful than the past."