The straight and narrow

Today is Day 27 of Quarantine for us, and I am sad. Not sad because I can't go to my favorite non-essential store, or to our favorite neighborhood watering hole after work is over, or because I'm COMPLETELY over doing the dishes-- but because my dad is on my mind. [Prepare yourself: tis a sad one-- this is my third attempt to write this.]

Last week, a good friend of mine lost someone close and it's had me in my feelings about loss. And honestly, I hate that term when someone passes away-- "Sorry for your loss." It use to trigger me and put me into the weirdest [and calmest] fit of rage right after my dad passed away. It makes me think of that scene from Forrest Gump:
Lt. Dan-- Have you found Jesus yet, Gump?
Forrest-- I didn't know I was supposed to be looking for him.

I didn't lose him. He was here one minute, and gone the next-- but I can't go looking for him and hope he'll turn up. And before you soap box my soap box, I realize that loss and lost are two different things, but when you're grieving, you can't help what upsets you.

I've been thinking today about how we all handle grief. It's such a raw emotion that you can't explain; it's been 9 years since my dad passed away, and most days, I'm totally fine and cheery, and then others.... It's a strange thing to think about-- the day it all happens and your world is completely changed. For me, it's a day I'll never forget, from the time I woke up that morning to the week after when I had to return to school and to my new "normal." Most of my Facebook memories from the past two months are from 9 years ago, and has me remembering that time in my life, when I was living off of Chick-Fil-A french fries and energy drinks and just trying to make it through my last few weeks as a college senior.

I won't lie-- I was incredibly sad when I returned to campus after Dad passed. It was such a shock, getting that phone call from my 16 year old brother to come home, that something was wrong with Dad; then another phone call, from someone I don't even know, to tell me that I needed to come home immediately, but wouldn't tell me if my dad was okay. I don't remember the drive home, but do remember Aaron coming to pick me up in Jackson, MS and driving me the rest of the way. We stopped at a McDonalds and I ate some fries while trying to process that my Dad was gone. I also remember Cory calling me and I finally said the words "My dad just died." When I got home, I took one look at Dylan and Mom (David was still on his way home from Alabama) and knew that I was going to have to be the decision maker. I also knew  I would write his eulogy and obituary and I think that helped me to cope with that week. I remember going to the funeral home the next day and listening to the sniffles of my family around me as we picked out a casket. I got up and went to cry in the kitchen of the funeral home. My Papa Johnny followed me and just held my hand and then said "Brooke, you're such a grown up and I'm so proud of you. This is the toughest time of your life, and you're taking the reigns and being the rock everyone needs right now." He said some other stuff, but that's between us.


I try my best not think about all of things he's missed out on-- that usually doesn't help. I'm so thankful my two brothers got to walk me down the aisle as I married my best, good friend. But, I try to think of all the things he did get to be apart of, and how lucky I was to have him for a Dad. If you knew him, he was one of a kind for sure and had a heart of gold. He always bought me books for Christmas or my birthday; he started my obsession with Harry Potter, telling me it was going to be the next big thing. He wrote in each of the books he bought me, and thankfully, I had half my mind during the flood in 2016 to take them off the bottom shelf of the bookcase and they were saved. The blue shirt pictured above was his favorite shirt ever, and he wore it everywhere! We buried him in that shirt, along with a letter or two and a statue of a weenie dog for Molly, who we all know was his favorite of the "kids."

That old saying that you never know what someone is going through, so be kind is so true. I felt like such a zombie in the months and even the year after he was gone- over tired and over sensitive. But I knew I had to plow through.  I don't know if my way to handle the grief has been the right or best way, but it's been for me. Life has continued and even though he's not here, I like to think the hundreds of pennies I've found in the last 9 years are his way of letting me know he's here.

It's hard y'all. Every now and then, I see his picture and it's like a punch in the gut. Some days are fun, like telling people about the time we went camping and he got up to sing karaoke to "I'm a Hardworking Man" by Brooks and Dunn and the DJ turned his mic down. Some days are not so fun, like the look people get on their face when they ask about your parents and you have to tell them your Dad is in Heaven. Advice: If you know anyone who has someone close to them pass, don't just check on them the first week or two after it happens-- remember them in a month, or on the anniversary. Life continues for everyone, but the hurt doesn't seem to go away and reminiscing and memories are all we have to help cope.

Sorry for the ramble. But, he's been on my mind for the past few days, and I just needed to write. Happy day 27 of Quarantine y'all. Stay safe.

Red Beans and Ricely Yours,
B