February 23rd, 1997

This is the third time I have opened up blogger to post. But I don't know what to write or how to write it.
I have been meaning to write for the past week - random stories or thoughts but never got around to it.
But today, I feel I should post. It has just been a strange day for me. I am not sure how to feel.

9 years ago today my father passed away. 9 years is a long time. Almost a decade. And I don't know how to feel about it anymore. I'm not saying that I am not sad. But the pain is not the same as it once was. And I feel guilty about that. I didn't go through today all day thinking about what happened at this moment 9 years ago. I didn't wake up this morning thinking how I didn't want to get out of bed and I just wanted the day to be over.
I woke up because Jonah woke up and my alarm went off. I was feeling pretty sick (I am fighting something but at this point I am not sure who is winning). I had breakfast and got my lunch together. And went to work.
At work, I was pretty busy so my mind wasn't on it that much. I didn't think about the exact moment when he died or what happened right afterwards. I thought about it briefly when customers would ask the date. Feb. 23rd.
Feb. 23rd.
Feb. 23rd.
When he died, I think there were ways that it hurt me very badly and messed me up. And there were ways that getting through it helped me grow. It made me a better person in some ways. It made me grow up in a LOT of ways. It obviously changed my entire life. Not for the better - just for the different.
The hard thing is, I can't imagine him in my life right now. I am such a different person. It's hard for me to imagine a conversation with him. What would we talk about? Would we be as close as we once were?
The crazy thing is, the one thing I can imagine is him and Jonah. My dad LOVED kids. And I can just picture Jonah running up to him and giving him a HUGE hug. I can imagine the two of them having a conversation in Jonah's little language. I can see my dad's eyes light up at the sight of him and Jonah's eyes light up playing with him. I think Jonah has my dad's eyes.
Sometimes when Jonah stares at me - he has such a knowing look. Like he stares deep inside of me. He looks at me the way my dad sometimes looked at me when he wasn't able to communicate so well anymore. Maybe that's freaky. Or maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me. Trying to hold on to some part of my dad. I don't know.
It is what it is.
The one thing I hate about my dad's death is how it has desensitized me. Like when I hear about an older person passing away, it's very hard for me to feel sad about it. I automatically think, wow, you were lucky to have had them around for that long. They lived a long and full life, what is there to be sad about? But you can't say that to someone who is grieving the loss of a loved one. I think it is a terrible attitude for me to have. I hear about people losing grandparents and I really don't know what to say. Because that is the way things happen. That is a normal time for them to die.
When my dad died, all 4 of my grandparents were still living. Within 3 years of his death, 3 of them had passed away. My mom's parents died when I was in Israel for seminary (they died within about 2 months from each other) and my dad's father died while I was in New York. I wasn't very close with those grandparents and so while I was very sad when they died, it was not something that haunted me day and night for weeks or months afterward. I think I was more sad for what we missed out on as opposed to just the fact of losing them. When I hear of someone losing a grandparent, after my initial reaction where I can't really understand their pain, I think of losing my living grandmother. And that shock wakes me up and I realize that yes, it still hurts. I can't even think about it because I can't imagine her not around.
So, I guess I am still somewhat mixed up.
While I wrote this, I did shed a few tears. Mostly when I was writing about my dad and Jonah. Maybe because I knew that my thoughts are all that I will have of them. Picturing them together in my head is as close as I will get to it.
Part of me still wishes I had more of the pain that I had when I lost him. Maybe I feel like I would be a better daughter if I was more miserable today. Or maybe this is just what happens almost a decade after you lose someone...................

Maybe I am normal.