In the first few days, there was a lot of talk about getting to a new “normal.” That is, a new “normal” without my father. Because regardless of how I felt, how I wanted to literally go back in time and fix everything, my life continued on and I had to go back to doing what I’ve done every other day in my life.
After six months, there is a “new normal” for me. It looks a lot like the old normal, with some added depression, less social interactions, and a lot more tears, a lot more emotions caught in my throat. But I still go to work, I still drive an hour home, I still spend time on the computer, and I still just go on.
But what no one told me about finding this new “normal” is that when it becomes normal, it starts to feel like it’s always been like this. That you forget how the patterns of a person fit in the first place. That you start to question whether that person was ever really there at all in your “normal” and not just a story.
Of course, he was there. My father shaped my life for 33 years, but what about all the years thereafter when he’s not here? How can things ever be “normal” if your normal is missing a pattern that helped shape you?