one year later

well kids. it’s been a year. a full year now since everything shifted and changed. a year without my dad. a year knowing that i can’t call him, remembering that he won’t be coming to my house warming, knowing that he won’t be there for the kids birthdays. a full circle of holidays and events on our own.

it sucks. still. it will forever. the amount of suck may lessen, but it will still suck.

i drove down to zillah on the 16th. i wanted to see the site. i wanted to talk to people. i wanted to know everyone was still as lost as i am.

guess what: they aren’t. and that’s ok.

it was surreal driving up to the site. it looks like there was never a home there. it doesn’t look like a place where there were christmases or birthdays. it doesn’t look like there were ever bbq’s or football parties or anything. i knew the land had been cleared. i knew it had been bulldozed over. i didn’t know exactly what that would look like. i guess i expected something to still be there. the circle driveway with the railroad ties. the lawn. the trees. SOMETHING. i mean SOMEONE is going to buy the land and build there again eventually, right? so shouldn’t SOME of it have stayed? there was nothing. no driveway. no grass. no mark of where anything ever was. nature had reclaimed the land and there were tumble weeds, grasshoppers and dirt. i saw one small piece of caution tape stuck in a bush to show any evidence of the living nightmare that happened. one small piece of tape, that’s all.

a reporter met me at the sight to ask what i thought of it being a year later and still not having a cause declared by any of the investigating agencies. you want to know what i think? i don’t give a rats ass HOW it happened. i don’t care if it was a dishwasher or a lightbulb or anything else. they cleared the scene of criminal activity and that’s all that mattered to me. no one intentionally caused harm to my family. that’s all i need to know. beyond that, knowing a cause won’t do anything. it won’t make it unhappen. it won’t bring dad and anne and chris back. it won’t make what happened any better or worse. IT HAPPENED. what matters to me now is learning to live with not having a dad. do i want to spend my life mad at a dishwasher? no. do i want to go after some big name brand or something for financial compensation? what would that get me? would i want a dollar amount put on my dad’s life? we’ve already been taken care of. we have our house and our car and our bills paid. would having a neat little label to put on the file fix anything? no way in hell.

i went from the site down to the local bar that my dad used to be a regular at. there was a memorial of sorts set up for everyone to get together again and share the marker. i went in wanting to be with people who still missed him as much as i do. i wanted to talk to people and hear stories and remember. i wanted to pick up where i missed out a year ago when i was told not to go sit with all the people and have a beer and talk about it. it hurt to miss that and i wanted to not have that happen again.

it did happen again. i did miss out again. and it HURT. it was a regular tuesday night. several people showed up but they all talked about life as it is NOW. they talked about their work week, their summers, their jobs. it was trivia night at the bar and there was music and people talking and living life like it wasn’t a year ago that the world stopped. i left the bar that night SO HURT. i was so frustrated that no one was as sad as i was. i was so mad that no one wanted to sit around and tell stories. i was mad that they were living their lives like time has moved on. i was mad and crying for half of the car drive home before it really hit me: life has moved on. it’s been a year since i’ve been there. it’s been a year since i talked to anyone. it’s been a year since i visited the site. it hasn’t been a year for them. they haven’t been on pause waiting for an anniversary. they’ve all lived it EVERY DAY. they’ve seen each other every day and had their opportunities to tell stories and remember and grieve. theyve gone back to work and lived near the site and had new coworkers come in and start to fill the gap that was left behind. i can’t expect the rest of the world to go on pause and wait for me to finally get around to dealing with things. i can’t expect everyone else to wait for me to say it’s ok for them to heal. it’s unrealistic and honestly just plain stupid.

that was a very powerful moment for me. it was powerful to suddenly realize people do heal and move on but STILL REMEMBER. they were all there. they all came to mark the moment. they haven’t forgotten but they have moved on and life can continue without being paralyzed or frozen in time. i’m learning that. slowly, but i’m learning that.

one of the most powerful moments of the whole day was also one of the most random moments of the day. as i was leaving the property i stopped to check their mail. morbid curiosity i guess. no reason. it’s been a year. i didn’t expect there to be any mail or anything. i was honestly shocked that the mailbox was still there with their names on it. so i opened it. just to see.

people remember. people miss them.

waiting on go...

so. i’ve been going to therapy since…well…forever. i was forced to go as a teenager because i think it was easier to do that than actually, you know, talk about things at home. plus, if they could pin all the problems on me and send me to therapy, then they wouldn’t have something wrong with them…and by them i mean my mother. HEY LOOK: A SPADE. and i called it a spade…so…moving on.

anytwaddle. i went to therapy as a teen, then as a single mom until my therapist kicked me out of therapy and asked me to be a motivational speaker because not only was there nothing “wrong” with me, i had a pretty damn good grip on what was going on in my life and she thought i would be able to help others. so. yeah.

off and on over the years i’ve gone back to therapy to check in, make sure i’m not off in right field when big things have happened, basically just a routine mental check up if you will. i still go to the same gal from when i was a teen, and she’s still telling me the same thing now as then: i have a pretty damn good grip on things and a good ability to work it out for myself and find my own appropriate solutions. i have yet to be told i’m way off base or need to rethink anything, so that’s something. at least i know that my crazy is manageable and i’m doing a moderately good job at said management.

so. i was in therapy yesterday and we made it through almost the whole hour talking about random things- how i’m looking forward to leaving work, how i’m less scared of the change now than when i first decided to jump. we talked about books and what i want my writing to be like. we talked about all sorts of things, then, at the end of the hour she said: i notice you haven’t mentioned your dad at all today.

and i promptly started crying. that moderately good job of managing things? it doesn’t extend to this arena. i’ve been functioning. the tears have been minimal. i’ve been going along at a pretty good pace. but it’s only because i’m NOT doing anything. i’m not letting myself think about it. i haven’t let myself watch the memorial dvd. i haven’t gone through pictures. i haven’t been around other people that remember him to talk about things. i haven’t ANYTHING lately. i’ve been avoiding it. because the instant i face it, i fall apart.

i have a memorial of sorts set up at my house for my dad and my brother. it’s all the pieces of them i have left- pictures, my dad’s badge and service hat, the flag i was presented, a letter from the governor, my brother’s wire sculpture- small pieces of them. it doesn’t bother me having that memorial. it doesn’t bother me to look at their things. it’s easy to think of my dad, the cop being gone. it’s easy to look at their things as just things. it’s not easy to look at pieces of who they were. it’s not easy to think of MY DAD, my kids grandfather, half of where i came from being gone. it’s not easy thinking about my creative brother that i was just getting to know being gone. hell, even typing that is making me tear up, let alone spending any amount of time dwelling on it.

i know that i’ve stopped my healing process. i know that i won’t get anywhere until i make myself think about those things. until i make myself stop and face the reality.

THEY’RE NOT COMING BACK. they’re really gone forever. i can’t call them. i won’t see them at the next family event. my dad won’t be there for my kids birthdays ever again. there won’t be any more dinners at spaghetti factory. there won’t be any more…

AND STOP. i’m still sitting at my desk at work, i can’t go there any further. you get the idea though.

but i recognize this. i know that i’ve stopped my healing. i know that there will be a better time to pick it back up and work through it. hell, that’s what the whole year coming up can be for.

and we talked about that yesterday at my therapy. how, in a way, it’s scary for me to look at the next year and admit that it will be something i have to be careful about. that i will experience this process and i have to be prepared to not get stuck in it. i need to have a plan on how to keep moving forward through the hard times. it will help that i have my kids to keep me busy. i’ll have to get up and take them to school in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon. i can’t sit on my couch for days at a time staring at the walls. so. that is a good thing. but it’s also a scary thing that i may keep doing what i’m doing now- being busy and not letting myself think and focus and process and heal.

it will be a fine line moving forward. i’m still excited with moving forward. i’m frustrated that i’m still stuck and haven’t been able to start the journey yet, but i know it’s within reach. i’m more confident now taking this leap. i’m moving past the worry and into the curious. i want to see what will happen. i want to know where this year will take me. i want to get out there and really just be free. i know it will have hard times. i know there will be days of tears and hurt and healing. but i’m ready for it. so. you know…just waiting for that green light…i’m getting ready to spray paint the damn light if it doesn’t change soon…