Today is the six-month anniversary of my Dad's death. So far, we've made it through the first birthdays (his, mine, Zach's, and Belly's) without him, the anniversary of my Grandpa's death, Mother's Day, Father's Day, my parents' wedding anniversary, and a few random other holidays that weren't as difficult as those. Everyone I know who has lost a close loved one says that it's that first year that's the hardest--readjusting your holidays to be without someone important. I'm finding that, despite not being your average girl, "they" are right. This first six months have sucked pretty fucking hard.
I was talking to myself the other day (yes, this is normal for me) and I pointed out that it's ALWAYS something. I think, "Okay, I just have to get through my birthday and it will be okay," but then as soon as I realize I've done that, I have Father's Day to dread. As soon as I got through Father's Day, there was today. THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING ELSE. It's frustrating as all hell. I try to ignore it, not dread things, not look ahead to certain dates, but my brain naturally does that--I'm a date girl. I can tell you the date of my first kiss, each time I moved (all 17 or so of them), the birthday of pretty much everyone I've ever known.....I'm good with dates. And since it comes naturally, I can't seem to turn it off. I seem to be stuck. And torn. Because part of me is glad that I'm through that six months of "firsts," and part of me wonders how there can already be six months gone.
Someone exceptionally brilliant (probably my brother as he is a computer genius, although I don't know for sure that it was him) managed to get my Dad's voicemail recording off his cell phone and email it to me where I saved it on my computer. It's only my Dad saying his name, but at least it's SOMETHING, right? I can hear his voice, which feels like some sort of reprieve. I can listen to it whenever I want. It's not the same as hearing him say, "Hello, Princess!"--the only way I ever remember hearing him answer the phone when I called, every single phone call to him of my life--but it's better than nothing. It's better than him just being gone.