The Death Of A Parent

When I got the news of dad's demise, I was in shock and disbelieve, I said, what will become of the family if dad is not there to just call or go visit? this phrase was the first I said after my father passed away. I felt as if the world had come to an end or I felt as if I was floating, I felt as if a part of myself had died, I could not find my true identity, my true self. I spent many a days and nights trying to clear the fog that is grief. One day I was pondering the fact that my life may be over, I no longer did I have my dad in the flesh, even though at the end we just spoke on the phone and I was too young without a parent and too old a parent. There were those around that suggested to me that I go out and try to enjoy myself, the mere thought of that provoked anger of such magnitude that I would close my bedroom door and allow no one to enter, I wanted nothing to do with those that wanted me to go have fun, I so missed my dad that everything looked different to me. I truly thought that my life was over. I started to get defensive at the least little thing. One day, I woke up and I wrote one of my first poems, I started writing, it was very difficult as my eyes would blur due to my crying spells. I wrote as if my life depended on this act. I wrote for the next 2 years and that gave me a purpose in life as well as a healing tool. The next 2 years after my father had died were very hard emotionally difficult, the least little thing would provoke crying jags, I didn't want to see anyone, except for my son. I wrote so much that I could publish a book right now, but I won't do that yet, perhaps in the future I will think about it, but these writings are what saved my sanity. I never wrote a piece of poetry before, but for some reason, the fact that I was writing was better than joining a support group, I didn't want to attend one, what for? that is not going to bring my dad back or save me from my own despair, and it was despair I felt for sure. I didn't want to do any thing, I just wanted to get my dad back to life, I would sit in my bedroom and even plan his come back, that would be the only thing that made me happy, I didn't want to let go of my dad, I was so afraid that he may be forgotten, I was afraid that if I let go he would forget about me but I knew deep inside that my dad was closer than ever. We may think that our lives are over when someone we are very close to dies but it's very amazing what the human mind is prepared to handle. Any type of artistic activity such as writing or painting will aid us in the healing of our selves, it provides a scape from the grief that engulfs us. We will come up with solutions to our grief after the death of a loved one.