The Rituals

Image by califmom via Flickr

As I was lying in bed next to my daughter, waiting for her to fall asleep, I thought about the things she does throughout the day that help her cope with losing her father. 

The moment she wakes, she reaches for his Packers hat, pulling it snugly onto her head, even on 90-degree days. It comes off only to shower, put on her horseback riding helmet, the occasional washing, or to sleep, when it’s placed atop an Ugly Doll that also belonged to Bob.

Each day, she picks out one of his shirts to wear. Her gazelle-like legs poke out from beneath one of his favorite t-shirts, most often emblazoned with images highly inappropriate for a twelve-year-old girl, but I wouldn’t think of stopping her from wearing them. It’s made all the more ironic because she’s the kind of kid that is offended by foul language and points out inappropriate “content” at every opportunity. Yet, there she is, traipsing around in a bright green shirt with an airplane on the front that’s dropping F-bombs. 

God, I love her.

Almost daily she plays the songs from his funeral slideshow—the one’s we each selected—Pearl Jam’s Just Breathe (my choice), Modest Mouse’s Float On (her brother’s), and her selection, Nickelback’s If Today Was Your Last Day.

I hate Nickelback, but we listen to it anyway. My daughter wears a Nickelback t-shirt as part of her weekly wardrobe. Why? Because it’s the one and only concert she ever attended, and her dad took her. He loved her so much he took her to see Nickelback.

That’s a lot of love, people.

These little things she does keep her connected to her memories of her dad. I fully understand that and know that she will need to do some of these things for a little while and some of them for a long while.

When Bob first died, I took the sheet from the hospital bed in our room that he’d been lying on, rolled it up and stuck it in my pillowcase where it remained for about a month. It made a big uncomfortable lump in my pillow that I didn't even notice in the beginning. I just needed it there. 

For a long time, I slept with the Ugly Doll he gave me for Christmas. I still don’t sleep on his side of the bed. In the beginning, I kept my wedding ring on, then I moved it to my right hand, and then I took it off. I wore his wedding ring for a while. Now I don't.

I wear a butterfly necklace that reminds me of the butterfly I found the day of his funeral. I keep the Fuck Cancer poster in my bedroom where I can see the faces of the people who have carried us through this and continue to carry us through.

Rituals.

They keep us connected to the person who’s gone, but they also help us move on with living. They’re the stuff that holds us up until we can carry ourselves.

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Comments

[Tina Cruz]

you all are so brave. I know, you don't want to be, and it sucks.

But I am reminded of Gandalph's comment to Frodo, "So are all those who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide."

So. Brave it is.

Learning so much from watching you all.

<3 t.

[angelynn]

The love your family shows to each other brings tears to my eyes. You've been through so much and you keep moving. You help each other heal and you inspire. This was beautiful

[Kim Go]

lovely...

[sweatpantsmom]

You're an inspiration. Truly.

[RoseC]

Beautiful in its writing and in the little and important truths you point out. I love how you wrote that some of these things your daughter will need to do for a "little while" and some for a "long while." In a world where so many people (sometimes even the closest ones to us) can't handle grief, you provide such a gift to your family by allowing its waves to wash over you in such a natural and honest way. And you give a gift to strangers like me who read, validating our grief, and reminding us of the strong love, grace and beauty in all of it amid the pain.

[kristin/ kwr221]

oh, hang on to those rituals.

They are precious and a source of strength.

I still pull on my mom's sweater when I'm having a bad day. My daughter still carries around our dog's collar. I sometimes wear my Dad's shirt. These are important connections.

[Janet Isserlis]

lovely. thank you for posting it.after my dad died last spring, I found myself wearing a couple of his sweaters for the longest longest time. still do, one of them, at night, when it gets cold.

Leah, thanks for sharing this ritual, this ongoing proof of life, proof of love.

[Leah]

xox

[Tom Mazur]

this was a sweet read this morning

[Laurie Maine]

...so nice..its god to do things that matter to you i still have a sirt that belonged to my dad..my sis gave it to me after his funeral..

[Mshep]

Thanks for posting the info on your kiddo. It makes me feel like I know her better.

And thank God I have a sister out there who hates Nickelback too! Jeff insisted on renting a limo to lug down a bunch of us to Marysville to see them in concert. That was a trip I made purely out of love I tell you. Please let me know when you guys feel up to coming up to Chico so you can show the kids "this is where mommy and daddy first met" type of stuff. We have the back house all ready for you. Love you.

[califmom]

Oooh, a Chico trek! Need to add that to the calendar. Good idea.

[Amanda]

Rituals - oooh yeah. Love that your daughter wears his beanie and shirts :) I sleep in G's t-shirts and cuddle his pillow ... and ony sleep on my side of the bed, K obsessively reads and re-reads the books G read to her, and H sleeps with a small spanner that his Daddy engraved with his full name- just like all of Daddy's tools. These items are essential for sleep in this house.Recently, I found G's pocket knife - the twin of my own. I had thought it destroyed and lost in the accident and was overjoyed to find it and took to carrying it in my pocket .... until I realised that if anyone at school found out that the *teacher* was carrying a knife, there'd be hell to pay.

[Melanee]

As a daughter who lost her Dad a few years ago, I will be thinking of you and both of your kiddos on Father's Day tomorrow.

Sending love.

Mel xo

[Reality Check]

Wow, califmom. I really admire your stoic strength. You are such an inspiration. It’s obvious, I think to everyone, how much you loved your late husband. I was especially touched by this passage from your blog entry, of December 16, 2009 on califmom,com: regarding your late husband:

“Vicodin. I gave him the maximum dosage when we got to the car. He asked if I was trying to give him too much. I told him to shut the fuck up. Forty minutes later, he said he could still feel the pain a little bit, but it wasn’t as bad. I told him to shut the fuck up and the next time I told him I knew what I was talking about regarding pain he needed to listen. Fucker”

So califmom, after reading that, and all the other words of inspiration, and all the other words of affection that expressed the kind of true loving respect you felt toward your late husband, from the bottom of my heart califmom, I say to you the same thing you said to him, please; “Shut the fuck up”. Let’s hope your daughter doesn’t read your blog.

[Taryn]

This is a really beautiful post. It's funny the things that make us feel close. Last year for Christmas, I asked my mom for shower caps in my stocking - I love baths and love a good shower cap. She gave me one that had been my grandmother's - my dad's mom, who we called Gi (shortened from the Welsh)... I didn't even know my mom had kept it after Gi died - it was a pink frilly shower cap that Gi put over her rollers for sleeping. I wear it every time I take a bath - even though it isn't plastic and still gets my hair wet...because it reminds me of Gi and all her beauty rituals. When I first got it, I cried....now I smile every time I put it on. Lovely memories.

Thank you for sharing your rituals!

[califmom]

Oh, what a glorious thing to have! I love it! Thank *you* for sharing. :)

[Steph]

This is a beautiful post. I'm so glad you have things that can offer you comfort and fond memories. Those things are so important. Even when you no longer need them every day they are nice to have to be able to pull out when you need to. ((((HUGS))))