But, as is what happens to everyone, cleaning and tidying means coming upon things and getting distracted by reading and remembering.
I have this closet in my apartment.
If it was tidy, you could step in and take things from shelves and store everything very easily.
Unfortunately, it is not tidy.
It is rammed full of old clothes I can't bear to get rid of, boxes I keep in case I need to move again (I grew up with hoarders so I was always going to end up like this), my ex's box of porn (I've offered it back to him numerous times because... eh, I'm fine thanks. Not entirely sure why I am still allowing this to take up space in my home...), and a massive suitcase full of "treasures" from my life.
I took a notion to begin the deep-clean by venturing into this closet.
First mistake.
This is essentially a room of distraction and I fell at the first hurdle.
My dad's camera.
***
My dad passed away on the 12th of January 2018, 5 years ago, but I think based on the nature of our relationship and how often I used to get to see him (twice a year because of circumstances), it feels so mush more recent (Why am I justifying my feelings yet again!? That's essentially my therapist's voice in my head there).
It still feels like a missed phone-call. That's the best way I can describe it. So it's like a constant new realisation when I pick up something that makes me think of him or something happens that I really need to tell him... I find myself right back in that January, boarding the plane to see him laying in coffin and bringing home an urn to bury.
Fun.
I've grieved before. Too many times. Family whose time it was to go but I didn't want them to. Friends who unalived themselves because life and the world can be too cruel. Friends who in a simple twist of fate died doing what they loved.
You can never prepare yourself for permanent goodbyes. Try grieving for someone living with Dementia or Alzheimers. They're still alive but gone.
Most of the time, I'm ok. I can remember and smile and think only of the good times.
Then there are those days where it feels like my heart is trying to strangle itself.
Anyway, I shouldn't have said "grieved"; past tense. It's never past. Once faced with grief, you're always grieving. It just becomes easier to cope with.
I worry I talk about my dad too much. Do I talk him more now that he's gone? Am I making people feel uncomfortable by bringing him up? Am I being dramatic? Am I obsessed with death? Do I let this define me?
Lack of self-worth, a large helping of depression and a dollop of anxiety has made this all the more difficult to make peace with and understand.
I did find a great infographic that has helped though.
My dad's camera caught me off guard today. I'd looked through the photos a couple months after he passed. Not really taking much in because that was a time where I could barely remember my own name and my Grandpa passed away just after him so everything that I knew was safe and certain was gone. Tailspin doesn't even begin to cover it.