If there is any trait I inherited from my dad, it’s my lack of emotion. I remember countless times laughing as my dad made fun of some emotional scene on TV; the man was a steel trap. I am my father’s daughter to a tee. I feel so weird being vulnerable. I don’t like crying and you will never see me cry in public. In fact, if I’m crying, it’s at the most inopportune time when I physically can’t hold it in anymore.
I think this inability to show and feel emotion is often detrimental to me. For me, showing emotion is selfish, at least about serious issues. I think there is an instinct in me that tells me to push back any feeling of sadness I may get because “ain’t nobody got time for that.”
When I first lost my dad, I used to dream about him all the time. He was in my dreams about three or four nights a week. The dreams were so realistic, I didn’t want to wake up. Then they tapered off some, slowly. But the past two nights my dad has been front and center in my dreams.
I think about my dad every single day, a lot. But having these dreams about him keeps him in the forefront of my mind in a more emotional way. Instead of telling anyone this, I let it go and move on. Because that’s healthy.
So, in lieu of telling anyone, this is my way of voicing that I am sad about my dad, a lot. I think about him, a lot. I miss him every single day. I think about how things could have been with him here every day. I listen to all of his favorite songs. If I’m driving and one of his favorite songs comes on the radio, I will choke up (only if I’m alone, of course).
So for anyone that thinks losing someone gets easy at some point, that’s not the case. It gets different, but I will not say it gets easy.