I’m an avid reader, more so in the summer months than other times of the year. The last book I finished was “The Fault in Our Stars.” I wasn’t very interested in seeing the movie, but was curious about the story, so I opted to read the book.

The one line, near the end, that really stood out for me, and encompasses my thoughts over the recent months, was “Grief doesn’t change you; it reveals you.”

It is so true, and really sums up what I’ve been feeling for almost the last year now. (Note: cannot believe I just said it’s been almost a year; as I write this, I realize that September 19th will mark one year since my Dad was diagnosed…..wow).

I’ve commented in past posts, I’m sure (I will not go back and read what I’ve written for some time, as a promise to myself), how I feel like my Dad’s illness and death have changed me. I feel like a switch was turned, that I am different than I was a year ago in many ways. But after reading that one simple line, I wonder if it really changed me, or if I am just learning who I really am. Hard to tell really, but that line from the book made me think hard about this.

Grief, and especially the loss of a parent, are a surreal thing. I think back through last September, October, and November. I always imagined myself falling apart if one of my parents became gravely ill, but I reacted in a way that surprised me. I found strength I didn’t know I had, and was able to be strong for my Dad, at least in his presence. I was strong for my kids, and was able to manage. I was likely on auto pilot though and just didn’t realize it. I was not overly optimistic, thinking he would fight it and beat it; I knew the end was going to come quickly at that point. I remember telling my boss, once he was admitted to the hospital and we had yet to fully realize what was going on, that we knew there was “something” in his lung, but were waiting for more tests. I remember making the comment that I knew it was going to be something big and was going to go very quickly. Unfortunately, I was so right about that, though I wish I wasn’t.

At this point in the process, I do feel different, and not just as it relates to my grief or my Dad. My life has changed significantly, especially with the fact that my Mom has aged quite a bit in the last several months, and doesn’t drive, and relies on me more than she ever did. I’ve accepted that and enjoy spending such a significant amount of time with her. We used to talk every single day, and I’d see her a couple of times a week. Now, we are at her house maybe 4-5 times per week to keep her company and visit, and make sure she is okay.

My perspective has also changed, which I’m sure is normal. I now realize that my family, on either side, really isn’t known for longevity; while I want my Mom to live forever, I realize that at 77, she is coming close to the average age where family members have passed. That makes me contemplate life without her sometimes. It may be morbid, but it doesn’t feel that way to me right now; just seems realistic. This kind of thinking I definitely get from my Dad.

I have also grown up a bit. Saying that at 42 seems silly, but I no longer have patience for the drama that can surround your life, and I feel more focused in many ways. I realize I filled my time helping out at the kids’ school more than anyone I know, to the point where it was a part time job. I now realize I was trying to fill a void and the need to be needed. After my Dad passed and I spent two months filling that need to be needed in a significant way, I realize that anything else is not as important, and I don’t need to keep running around, doing things for the sake of feeling valued I guess. It’s the quiet stuff, as I call it, that fulfills that need. The little things I was able to do with my Dad meant way more to me than anything I helped with at school, or work, or in other parts of my life. I can just be, without being heavily involved. To that end, I’ve started to realize what’s important and focus just on that.

I know I have always felt the need to be connected to people, to always be involved in the conversation, so to speak. I have been quieter lately, not always feeling the need to share my thoughts with others, or worry when I haven’t heard from certain people in some time. I liked always “being in the know” about things going on, whether it’s in the neighborhood, family, or kids’ school. Sometimes it’s good to not be “in the know” and just be there. This thought has given me more time to focus on what needs to get done on a daily basis, and experience things from an ‘outsider’s’ perspective, which has been kind of nice. Being in the know sometimes means knowing too much, which can alter your expeirence and cause one to worry excessively about things. It’s just not necessary most of the time, so I’ve learned to let that go.

This is very much a rambling post, as I’m not quite sure what I want to say, except that I realize now that grief maybe really hasn’t changed me – I’m just learning who I am. In many ways, I’ve been impressed with what I’ve learned, and in others I’ve realized what and how I need to change the way I do things to be truly comfortable in my skin. I thank my Dad for that, and realize that if I was having this conversation with him, he’d tell me that this is nothing new to him and he knew it all along, because he had a way of seeing things for what they were, at the most simple of terms. I guess I got that from him, but didn’t know I had it until now.