This weekend has been rough for me because yesterday marked the third year since my father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, not long after my birthday.
My mother is a practising Catholic, so she set up a mass at the local church to be dedicated to my dad. I went, but my brother and sister-in-law didn’t go.
To me, it’s weird to have memorials. I like to celebrate life, not remember the day my dad passed away. So, although it may sound really weird, when my dad’s birthday rolls around, I visit him at the cemetery and wish him a happy birthday. March 2 (the day he passed away) is a day that I’d rather not commemorate.
I can’t believe it’s already been 3 years. It still feels fresh to me. And, for 3 years, I’ve kept a photo of my father on my cell phone as the wallpaper. (When I meet new friends and they see the photo on my phone, they always ask who it is. I guess not many people my age have a photo of an old man as their wallpaper…haha!)
When I think really long and hard about ‘losing’ my father, I feel a lot of anxiety knowing that I only have one parent left. Like everyone, she’s getting older. And it scares me a great deal knowing that one day, she’ll also meet her maker. Yes, I have friends, so I won’t be alone, but it’s just not the same bond that you have with a parent.
Ever since I moved away from home, I’ve been going to visit every single Sunday. It’s really important to me. And now that only my mom’s left, I feel an even stronger urge to make sure I continue visiting every Sunday. (My brother rarely visits her, so I feel like if I don’t go see her as often as I do, she’d be alone. Being alone and not feeling loved is the worst form of torture, in my opinion.)
I feel very blessed for having two parents. Some people don’t have the luxury of that, or they may have never even met their biological parents. I’m also grateful that my parents are amazing, and that I had a very happy childhood because of them. Even though they were really stressed out, things weren’t perfect, and finances were terrible, somehow, my parents managed to make little Mary feel like everything was rosy. That takes a lot of strength, and I appreciate it.
You know…my dad used to say that he’d wait for me at the pearly gates of Heaven. But I told him not to and that he should go in and enjoy it. Hehe, then he said he’d go in and make sure that everything was in order by the time I arrived. 🙂 I hope I make it into Heaven!
Do you believe in the afterlife?
I know some people who don’t, but I am a strong believer in Heaven. Sure, I can’t know for certain that it exists, but I need it to be real.
I’m not super religious, but I just can’t fathom living without Heaven. If that were the case, it would mean my dad is really gone. I can’t accept that. It comforts me a great deal thinking that he’s up there in Heaven and that one day we’ll possibly be reunited. It gives me hope and the strength to continue living.
This short blog post wasn’t easy for me to write, but I feel a strong need to show this side of me. Most of the time, you only get to see the happy side. Yes, I have a mostly happy spirit, but the other side is just as important to express. Why? It’s a reminder that happiness doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. I never want you to think that I’m perfect or that my life is perfect. Nobody’s perfect, and I think it’s dangerous to try to be.
I once read a great quotation somewhere on Twitter. It said something like this:
Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect.
Being happy means that you’ve decided to overlook the imperfections.
That’s definitely one of my life philosophies, and I’m using this post to remind everyone (including myself) of this powerful and important message that sometimes gets lost.
Note: The photo in this post is a picture I took with my iPhone of the sky one day. I originally uploaded it to Instagram.