Asking For Help

I have not really been one to ask other people for assistance. I have always felt that my problems are my own and that seeking help from others would only be viewed as being a weakness. I despise having to ask others for assistance when I would rather complete a difficult task on my own. For me, part of the resolution comes in being able to solve something on my own. This time, however, is different.

Since my father died last month, I have been at a complete and total loss. Really. No words can express how much he meant to me. His death isn’t something that I can fix. He is gone. There is no resolution to be had.

I won’t get into the awful incidents I have had to endure the past month with my stepmother. It has been very hard for me to deal with…especially knowing that my sons will never know who my father was or have memories of them to keep throughout their lives. Her behaviors have dictated that everything that was ever owned by my father has a price tag attached to it. Enough said.

Next week I will be doing something that I have not done in quite some time; I will be seeing a counselor. My grief over his death has been debilitating. I keep praying for strength to get through this…but it isn’t enough and I have finally realized it. At first I didn’t want to keep the appointment because it was out a month from the time I initially called to schedule it. Now that the time is here, I realize that the wounds are still deep and time is not healing me as fast as I would like it to.

Below is one of my favorite photos of my father and I. A copy of it currently resides on my desk at work.

At A Loss

Have you ever lost someone who was of utmost importance to you? Someone you considered to be your confidant, friend and delegate of absolute trust? I lost my father on Friday, December 18, 2009. Even though it has been three weeks since he died, the wounds I have are as fresh as if it were yesterday.

My father died without anyone close to him there to witness it. He died on an ambulance gurney outside his home after having a massive heart-attack. It was his second massive heart-attack in two years. I cannot even begin to say how many times I would talk to him about changing his “bad” habits; how I would tell him he needed to be there so that his grandchildren would know who he was. Like all things, motivation to change needs to come from within…but he never found it.

I was my father’s only child. My parents divorced when I was three-years old. Even though this occurred, I never knew what it was like to not have a father. My father was more involved in my life than I could have ever hoped him to be. He was always there for me…always.

I think back to this past summer when I was alone for a week in my house for the first time since having my children and being married to my husband. My father knew how bad I was hurting and it made him upset to see me ache for the family I was missing. I am missing him now.

No words will ever be able to explain the wonderful person my father was. Although I am biased, he truly was a remarkable man. At his celebration of life, there were over 150 people in attendance. Many of those people in attendance were life-long friends, students who rode the school bus he drove, and relatives. Can you believe my first-fiancé and his parents attended his service? They did!

I know my father is in a better place; where he can build as many model tanks as he’d like, watch as many episodes of “Hill Street Blues” as he’d like, chat with my grandparents, and play ball with his dogs. He always said that when he died, those were the things he imagined he would be able to do once he got to Heaven. I hope he is able to do all of that, and anything else his heart desires. I miss him…and I always will.