My worlds are kinda colliding at the moment.
A few days ago I wrote the sort of post in my Debbish blog which might usually be found here. It’s about ‘broken windows’ and the theory that offenders start with small stuff (graffiti and breaking windows) before moving onto more deadly crimes. Gretchen Rubin stretched the analogy into everyday life, where small things / signs around the house or workplace, might indicate that something bigger was (in fact) afoot.
And today I’m writing in this, my diet blog, about my dad: his life and his passing, which is something usually found in Debbish.
It is my father’s birthday today. He would have been 74 years of age.
Of course, he passed away almost exactly 18 mths ago, so there will be no parties. No celebrations.
She will go to the cemetery where (most of!) his ashes remain. She’s still living in the house they shared for almost 48 years, so she really needs no reminder of him and their time together.
I wrote some time ago, that I don’t really think of him being ‘at’ the cemetery. To me, he’s everywhere. Always.
Instead I decided to ponder on what he might be thinking if he’s looking down on me today.
He would have been worried about the decision I made to take the redundancy from work, and not look for another job straight away. He would have, however, loved my decision to move closer to (my original – and his) hometown, downsize and be debt-free.
He would be encouraging re my writing and blogging, though perhaps offer a harsh reality check from time to time, to ensure my expectations remain realistic.
He would be disappointed that I’ve all-but cut back on gym-related exercise; but he would be happy I go on leisurely walks and soak up the atmosphere of this place he also loved.
He would be sad I hadn’t found someone to love or to love me, but he would have continued to love me unconditionally. No matter what. (Something I was less sure of when I was younger.)
He’d probably be sad I’d gained weight and remained overweight for many many years, but as he also lived through the anorexia, he’d understand the struggle. He’d be disappointed, but FOR me, not IN me.
Risk averse, overly concerned about others’ feelings and judgement, I think he’d be okay with where I am at this point in time.
It’s strange, but even now that I’m in my 40s I hate the idea of disappointing my parents. I know though, he’d want me to be happy and to pursue a life that makes me happy. So it’s a useful reminder, to think that someone we know and love AND who knows and loves us, may be watching over us.
Have you lost someone special? Do you wonder what they might make of the decisions you make and the life you live?