Our fathers who art in heaven.
Apologies for the appropriation, but one of my techniques for getting to sleep is to re write the Lords Prayer as a kind of letter to Ian or my dad. It’s kind of comforting and a nod to the maybe, just maybe that they may still be out there somewhere , in some form or universe.
Last week at Uni we discussed attachment, now of any topic we’ve ever covered at uni this one is a sure-fire igniter for my grief …The grief switchboard fully lights up for this one and I have to make a monumental effort to slow and calm myself down and not start pushing all the panic buttons in my head for my girls about what losing an attachment figure means. When I’m trying to calm myself about this one I try to think what Ian or my Dad would say. When I let their voices find a place in my thoughts they are kind and forgiving, reminding me that their wisdom does not die. My own voice is often unforgiving and harsh; asking far too higher or impossible standards. So this week a friend has told me about Kristin Neff. She advocates for self compassion and kindness to the self. It made me realise how stressed I can make myself and how I expect far too much of myself. She’s definitely worthy of a look on TED.
So girls I’ve tried really hard these last 6 years and yes, I haven’t always got it right and yes I could have done better at times. But one thing I know is I couldn’t have tried much harder than I have to be two parents, but in the end I’m just not Ian. Single parenting can really test , I mean really test..it feels like having my foundations on a sandy river bank at times. You never know when the river will rise and a flash flood come through. I picture myself often standing in the water, feet astride trying to hold up against the flood tide, without submerging myself. I’m not saying I have difficult children, far from it. They are thoughtful, considerate and kind. It’s just that grief brings in on its tide, the random flotsam and jetsum of life, often ordinary, but extraordinary in significance to us. Because a grieving moment is only the beginning of the flood tide. Its ebbing waters leaving an assortment of anxiety, worry and rumination, jumbled, tossed and tangled by the currents of the grief tide.
Grief is a gift that just keeps on giving and never fails to surprise.
Today I celebrate memories of my dad, of things we did, what I learnt. The girls mourn what will never be, the ongoing, the future losses.
I have tried incredibly hard to fill the parenting gaps and sometimes the cracks cannot be filled with the single parenting polyfilla. Fathers’ day is one of those cracks that is just too big to fill. I just want one thing this Fathers’day that my girls remember the kindness, wisdom and compassion of Ian’s voice and carry that with them everyday and make him part of their future.
Be kind and understanding to yourselves my girls, Dad would have been.