I'm afraid

There are always so many things on my mind. Specifically regarding grief, missing my daddy, and trying to figure out what this new normalcy looks like for me.

And it's hard.

And it's messy.

And it's lonely.

And yet, here I am. 

Waking up each day and trying. 

Trying to put one foot in front of the other.

Trying to "take care" of myself.

Trying to grieve.

Trying to live.

One of my favorite new podcasts is Terrible, (Thanks For Asking), which is "a funny/sad/uncomfortable podcast about talking honestly about our pain, our awkwardness, and our humanness" and it's gotten me through the last few weeks when I felt like no one really got what I was feeling and that I needed a space to feel understood. It's been SO good for my soul. 

I'm also still writing. I wrote this thing that turned into a poem (featured below) as I was reflecting on how fearful I am of losing my daddy's memory. I didn't write this for anyone to reassure me that I won't lose it or for folks to try to make me feel better. Instead, I wrote it because that's how I'm currently feeling and my feelings, regardless of how they appear to myself or others, are valid.

To those that have been and are still walking with me through the darkest season of my life, thank you!

I'm afraid 

I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.

Of waking up one day and forgetting the sound of his voice;

The way that he’d call my name…most people call me Mika, but my daddy always called me by full name, Shamika, and I loved it.

I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.

That one day I’ll wake up and must look at a picture of him to remember the features of his face and how his body got smaller over time as the cancer ate away at it.

I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.

That people will not want to talk about him.

I experience that already and it’s only been 4 months.

There are days when I feel like I must plead for someone to say his name, to want to listen to all I want to share about him.

I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.

That when I’m blessed with children of my own that I won’t be able to fully articulate the man my daddy was.

I grieve the memories my future children will never be able to make with him, but instead will have to rely on my memories to know him.

I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.

So I write down as much as I can remember.

I back up all the photos online I have of him.

I talk to him daily.

I commit to keeping his spirit alive

Because I’m afraid of losing my daddy’s memory.