Four years ago, my father, Daniel Raymond Kangas, 54 years old, of Chattaroy, WA, passed away. I miss him terribly sometimes still.
Grief is a really hard thing to process. I guess I just want to sort of “get over it” and only have happy feelings when I think back about my dad, but feelings don’t really work that way. There are always happy feelings mixed up with pangs of sadness. Then sometimes there’s guilt for wanting to not feel sad, as though it’s wrong of me to not miss him. Then there’s anger at the guilt, as though I am trapped by it and I MUST feel that way, even though I don’t want to.
And of course there’s feelings of helplessness as I know that there’s nothing I can do to bring him back, and very little I can even do to sharpen my memory of him. There’s some feelings of sadness and fear that all that I know and remember of him will fade with the years.
But usually, when I miss him and go through all this again, I come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t want me to sit around moping. I’m sure he would love to be the center of my thoughts, but he wouldn’t want me to be paralyzed by grief. So it becomes a wound that I bear, that never really heals. And yet it’s not all bad. It’s this kind of crazy wound that feels good and bad all at once, waxing and waning in the intensity of feeling, sometimes quickly, sometimes very, very slowly.
I miss my Dad.