Selected Memories - A Photo-Collage

I don't have any words for this post. Just a photo. Maybe I might put something in later when I feel I can. But for now, let this photo say what I don't have words for.

Intense Rage and Anger...

Sometimes the grief triggers me into flashes of intense rage. It isn't the slightest bit directed nor do I know why I get so worked up. The rage flashes over when the world doesn't understand why I'm still grieving or when someone says something callous like "You can't expect the world to go away forever." I'm not asking the world to go away. What I am asking is for time and possibly a little help to get me through this grief. But it seems like everything else takes precedence. And that triggers a flashover of temper.

Loss, Grief and Manliness; What Every Man Should Know About Losing A Loved One. This article was written by Brian Burnham. He writes about how a man grieves; since he lost his own father.

Evidently from what he says, Men go through a series of stages in grief, but they're not externally emotional. While men may go through periods of sadness and crying, depressed mood and/or sense of hopelessness; it's not the norm; we show less of those emotions. What we do show however are the following:

Anger: often directed at someone or something seen as responsible for the loss, but sometimes directed at the self or at nothing in particular.
Irritability: grieving men may be easily irritated and annoyed and may overreact to small annoyances.
Withdrawal: grieving men may withdraw from social contact as well as withdraw emotionally, experiencing an emotional numbness.
Rumination: persistent thinking about the deceased or death in general.
Substance Abuse: grieving men may attempt to cope by abusing alcohol or other drugs.

What I wish though is for people to understand that the grieving process is not the same for everyone and that I'm not going to "get over it" just at the snap of a finger.

I know I probably need some help and some counselling to get through the stages of grief that I'm going through with my dad's passing. I'm tired of not being understood to be going through the grieving process. I'm tired of not having people understand that intense rage and anger is a part of my grieving process; that if someone says something callous or tries to make me walk on eggshells around them or snaps at me for no apparent reason, I'm going to end up going nuclear. The simple solution to that is: Just Don't. Don't start a fight with me because you're upset about something. Bring it to my attention calmly and rationally instead of making a big emotional deal out of it. Don't snap at me or I will explode. Realize that the grieving process takes time and that I'm going to be hair-trigger taut for quite some time. And just be happy I'm not doing #5. So 4 out of 5 ain't bad.

Just do me a favor and let me get over the loss of my Dad at my own pace. I don't give a shit if people think that I should be over it in two months or that you may think that I'm grieving too damned hard. This was my father, someone who was my protector and the most important person in my world while I was growing up. I can't just get over the fact that he's gone...Just Like That.

A Dark Path - Still Hurting 7 1/2 months later

It doesn't seem like the loss of my father will ever heal. Every day there are reminders of how important he was to me. Every day, there seems to be triggers that initiate a paroxysm of grief (not really outwardly seen, but an inner earthquake of grief), whether it be a memory of things that we did together, that we no longer have the chance to do. Or whether it is sadness at things that he no longer has the chance to do, like hold his only granddaughter; one that he said that he wanted. Storm will never have the opportunity to know her Grandfather except by word of mouth from her two oldest brothers and myself. Even Jamie never really got the chance to know his grandpa either since he was only 8 1/2 months old when my father passed away. The two oldest were actually the only two who got a chance to really spend some quality time with their grandpa.

For me, all the times that I spent with my dad during my younger years; the weekends where he and I would go gardening together (he had a contract gardening business on the side where he'd go around to different customers and do the lawns and gardens (trimming, fertilizing, edging...and other things)). It may have been laborious work, but it was also meaningful in that he and I were able to spend time together.

I remember when I went into college music and he joined the community chorus just so we could share the opportunity of actually being able to do something together in our shared passion of music. My father sung with the Vancouver Bach Choir, the professional chorus during the 60s (before I was born) and he loved and cherished the opportunity to sing with me in the Douglas College Choral Society and Community Chorus. We did some wonderful pieces that year and the most fun times that my father and I had were driving home from rehearsals (Monday nights), singing all the way home from New Westminster to Maple Ridge.

I remember that he used to take me to the Abbotsford International Airshow, many times during the 80s. No matter how much he protested saying that "Hmmmph...all these things just warplanes...not good..." he would never fail to take me, because he knew that brought me enjoyment and that's what counted to him. I think the first time I drive to the Abbotsford Airshow since his passing with my sons and daughter (when the youngest are old enough to appreciate the airshow for what it is and not get frightened by the noise) and my wife, I probably am going to have a lump in my throat from the memories of the times that my father and I spent at the Airshow.

Above all, I remember the pride that my father had in me when I started showing promise (late in life) in photography. For the longest time, he never knew what it was that I was good at. In music, I felt like a square peg in a round hole. There was always someone with perfect pitch or with a more innate understanding of music. There was a sense of inadequacy. Sure I could sing well, but there really was nothing more to it. I can understand the frustration of my teachers: John Glofcheskie, Dr. Kevin Barrington-Foote, and Tatsuo Hoshina, because I just would not take music seriously and part of it was my failure to understand the basic tenets of music. It was not something that came naturally to me. Photography on the other hand, I seem to be able to pick up concepts and I study it with the fervor that was missing to me in the study of music.

I only have memories now of my father and how good he really was to me. I see the love for me in his eyes in the images of him holding me as an infant. What is sad is that there are no other pictures of me with him alone, other than those infant pictures and then me alone with him on the ferry as a man, during the time when we both took our wives to Victoria and our mutual friend Worapol Taksinrote took a picture of me alone with my Dad. There never were really a whole bunch of pictures taken of me with my dad, so all I have is memories. I just wish that there comes a time when those memories won't cause tears but will bring in their place, smiles.

But for now, even 7 and a half months down the road, the pain of losing him is just too raw.