Memorial Day Grief.

Memorial Day is here, and it makes me nervous. For those of you who don't know, my dad passed away when I was 5. Since it happened when I was so young, I didn't grieve properly and I don't remember much of anything about him. I visited the cementery only when my mom went, and then gradually we stopped going as a family.

My junior year in highschool is when it hit me that my own father wasn't a part of my life. He wasn't going to be at my graduation, my wedding, the day I bought my first house, had my first baby, received my diploma..big events that a Daddy should be there for.

I remember one day, after I had graduated, I went for a drive and was having a hard day. Out of nowhere I had an overwhelming urge to go to the cementery, something I hadn't done in probably 4 years. As I pulled in, I immediately started bawling. I pulled up to where I remembered his grave to be, got out of my car in the snow and my flip-flops, grabbed a blanket and started walking around trying to find his grave. I remember being so discouraged not being able to find where he was burried, and I remember thinking "Where are you? This is so typical of you, not being there when I need you."

After uncovering snow from several headstones, I gave up and went back to my car. I sat down and cried 13 years worth of tears, anger, hurt, shame, doubt, and fear. Day one of grievance, passed with an A+.

I didn't tell anyone about that day, and I tried to fight the anger I felt toward my father. When he was brought up in conversation, I left the room. I was hurt that he left our family and mad that he did it when I was so young. I hated that everyone had memories of him, except me. I had no pictures of him and I together, no memories, and no momentos.

About a year ago, my parents sat me down and we talked more seriously about my feelings and what I was going through. They suggested I see a therapist, and I was offended. My mom called a therapist, the same therapist my dad saw for his drug addiction, and I agreed to go.

My first visit went well, I did a lot of crying and she did a lot of listening. The second visit wasn't so successful. She did most of the talking and told me memories she had of my dad. Memories SHE had of MY father, that I didn't have. I got pissed, and I remember thinking "why does everyone has memories of him, except me?" I didn't go back, and I haven't been back since.

I still struggle with his passing, and I am still going through the grieving process. It's wierd, and it's different and it's hard to explain. It's been 17 years and I'm just now grieving, and grieving over a person I remember nothing about. I'm dealing with it though, and I've made progress. He has always been my father, and will always be my father. And despite the anger I had and the hurt I have felt, I will always love him and I take Memorial Day to remind not only him of that, but myself.