As my Dad gets closer to death, I feel how I'm more confronted by how I live than I am about how or when I'll die.
I know I'm not alone, it's not cataclysmic. I've got SO many people in my life who love and support me.
I can write in front of my social media world so well that I should write a book (until of course I sit down to try to write it!).
Sit with me quietly, sip on your tea or your latte or even your wine.
Look in my eyes (if mine aren't looking down or around) with soft loving patience.
Breathe deep and even ask me some questions.
Open and hold the space with emotional courage for me.
And in that moment I go from man to a child.
I don't know how to talk to you about it. I want to let you in and there's too much to say. There's a lot I'm ashamed of, there's even stuff I'm proud of.
Burnt by oversharing in the past and feeling abandoned. Hurt by undersharing in the past and not feeling seen.
I own both of those feelings, I'm not a victim, they aren't your fault.
But talking about with you without him here even while he's still here is just so overwhelming.
Feelings would be so much better if they made sense.
How often does it take something to happen to give me "perspective"? Don't choose guilt Tim, don't choose fear because this gives you perspective.
The feels are big. Don't turn from them Tim. Turn off the TV or at least write in front of it.
And Tim as you write it be ok with the fact that you stop and shed tears. Don't worry about how disjointed it reads.
Don't sweat how confusing it looks. How I live the rest of my life isn't answered tonight.
Only One knows when i will die, that's fact.
Only I know how I will live, that's real.
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