Friday Fav - That Call

Happy Friday, All! This is a VERY long (and emotional) post, so please brace yourself.

 

This past week, and past month, I've been wanting to take and make a certain call. It's weird and hard to explain, but when you lose you someone (and maybe this is only in my case) you still want to believe they are there ... somewhere out there ... but still there. It's a hard game you play with yourself. Mind games or tricks like - I know we can't talk today, but maybe we can tomorrow. Maybe this whole thing is a cruel joke and he'll be back next year. Maybe if I just send an email he will reply.

It sucks. Mentally you know he won't pick up the phone, you won't see him next year, and he definitely isn't responding to any emails. But emotionally you need these things. They were a part of your everyday life and then on that one day ... that day when they leave ... you're lost and confused where to go, what to do, how you should feel, and all sorts of emotions. It's a game I think I'll never stop playing or a trick I'll never learn from. The hope that one day it will all go back to how it used to be is the comfort you rely on when you need them the most. 

This week I gave myself all the time I needed to do certain things that I couldn't face the days or weeks shortly after he passed. Two of these things involved the phone. 1) Talking to my Uncle Dan, and 2) Calling my Pops.

1) My Uncle Dan is my Pop's younger brother yet someone he always looked up to. Because my uncle and his family live in California, it's been tough for our families to get together, do the family things, and keep updated on all of our lives. Each summer this changed. Our family has gone to Bear Lake for as long as I can remember and it's always been a trip that I wish never ended. Each year seemed to get better and better, and over the last few years it was surrounded with pretty much the entire family! My Pop's side of the family is truly the best. They've got the best humor, best values, best hugs, and they make some of the best food you've ever put in your belly. In recent years, my Uncle Dan and cousins have made the trek from California to Utah specifically for this family reunion. Each time my uncle got out of his car, walked down to the lake, or gave me a hug it reminded me of my Pops. Not only do they look alike, but they sound the same, walk the same, and have some of the same mannerisms. For me, this is and has been the best gift.

At my Pop's funeral there was someone I wanted to see so bad, but also someone who I knew would put more emotions in my heart than I could handle (in a good way), my Uncle Dan. Seeing him duck his head as he walked into the room, seeing his red, puffy eyes from crying, and seeing him standing there so tall waiting to give me the biggest hug was tough. He reminds me so much of my Pops that seeing him without his brother cut really deep. I have somewhat "avoided" talking to my uncle because of this close resemblance. It's weird what I was thinking, why I did this, and why it took me so long to pick up the phone, but this last week when I saw his number light up my screen, I knew it was time and I was ready.

I was ready to face the tough questions like "How are you doing?" I was ready to give my uncle the "in" on my life and start a new relationship. I was ready to see how much more he reminds me of my Pops and how much my Pops still lives in him.

2) This was and has been the toughest item on my list of things to do. It was something I knew would make me cry, piss me off, and set in hard. I knew I needed to do it because I would never stop wondering. My Pops is listed in my phone's "My Favs." Every time I go to call someone who also lives in this list, I see his name. Every time I go to make another call, I first think about calling him. I've been wanting to call him since the day I found out. I've wanted to call and talk to him about it. I've wanted to hear what he thought about it all. It's crazy because you think things that are so obvious, but you hope for something different. When I've talked about everything with my Pops, I've really wanted to talk to him about this whole situation first.

I knew when we turned off his phone that I would no longer hear his voice recording. I knew that he would no longer pick-up, text or call me. I know in my mind he is no longer here, but in my heart he still very much is. I've been wanting to call him for awhile to face this hard truth ... yet again. To not hear him pick-up, not call me back if he missed the call, or not hear his voice was something I couldn't face. This past week, I was ready.

I went to my "My Favs," I put my finger on his name and I called. It rang and I got excited. It rang and then I knew. I was startled by the "I'm sorry the phone number you are trying to reach is no longer is service," although I knew all along it would be the only voice I'd hear. This pain was the same as when I said goodbye. I knew he was in the room next to the one where our family was when making all of his final arrangements. I knew he was there, but he wasn't. I didn't get the chance to say goodbye because he simply just went to sleep. When I walked over to the room he was in I started shaking. I was telling myself "no," but I kept walking closer. His body was there ... but he wasn't. When I went to call him this week, I didn't get to hear his voice because he is no longer there.

It's the pain I knew would take some time to address. It's the call I knew I needed to make to know, just one more time, that he wouldn't pick-up. It's the process and journey you take yourself on when you learn how to say goodbye.

This week, I've learned through 2 vary different phone calls 2 very important things.1) My Uncle Dan is amazing. My Pop's siblings, my Aunt Deb and Uncle Dan, have been there for my brother and I more than we could ever have hoped for. While I was afraid of how much my uncle resembled my Pops in the beginning, now it truly is the best gift to hold onto. 2) The second lesson was the reminder I needed that he has gone on. I've wanted to call him everyday since he left, but I've waited. I was hopeful he would pick-up, but I now know. I needed this call and I needed him not to answer. I needed to take one more step in this new direction.

I still talk to him everyday, obviously much different than before, but I still talk. I don't get to see him or look forward to seeing him like I used to, but I still see him. I see him in my Uncle Dan, my Aunt Deb, my brother, the beautiful sunsets, the stars, our text messages, and sometimes ... I see him in me.