Why you ramble no one knows | Thoughts on grief

Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose
Why you ramble, no one knows
Wild and wind blown, that’s how you’ve grown
Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?Ramble on, ramble on
When your ramblin’ days are gone
Who will love you with a love true
When your ramblin’ days are gone?Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose
Why I want you, heaven knows
Though I love you with a love true
Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose
Why I want you, heaven knows
Though I love you with a love true
Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?

Nat King Cole

Today’s Thoughts…

I came here to tell you all kinds of things. I was going to write a blog post about staying positive when you’re job hunting.

More to convince myself that I need to remember that it’s a numbers game than anything else. Instead, I am here to tell you I’m sad. 

Yup.

I’m living this perfect life.

It really is bloody amazing. So why do I keep bursting into tears?

Well, the truth is, for a while I wasn’t sure. Today I realised, that it’s because of my dad. Remember him? He died like a lifetime ago. Seriously. He died when I was 23 and I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will NEVER get over his death.

I’m okay with that because that is just how death works. People die and then we grieve for ever.

But… it’s times like these that are often the hardest. Periods of transition. Periods of change. Periods when you want to tell your dad how happy you are but you can’t. It’s now that I’m really struggling.

He knew this was my dream and I know he’d be happy for me. I know he’d be proud of me for everything I overcame to get here. I know he’d be in my corner, telling me that this was 100% the right choice to make. And that is what makes it so damn hard. 

Instead I’m watching shows on tv of dads and their relationships with their children and in every one of them I see myself. I imagine the relationship I’d have with my dad.

A side of him I never got to know, the grandfather side. An older man. Calmer maybe. More settled in his own space. Less living on the wild side. More calm conversations about where is a good place to send my son to school.

I don’t know… probably conversations laughing about Trump and crying over the state of South Africa. Fuck. It’s these moments I wish more than anything he was here.

But he isn’t. 

And so I sit here crying over a fucking comedy show depicting a girl and her dad bantering. 

Don’t take your parents for granted.