Big Shoes to Fill

I attended a grief ceremony at a local yoga studio tonight. I now feel more sad than I've felt in a very long time. I'm assuming you have to be broken open sometimes to let the light in, and to reach the next level of healing. Hopefully, this was necessary to experience more joy and peace. What I shared about my Dad was that he was my everything. He was my person and I was his. He was security, certainty, and unconditional love and acceptance. He was there for me in person, through phone call or text any time I needed him for forty years. 

At the close of the ceremony, we shared our takeaways. I don't know if I'm so sad because I miss him more now or if it's due to the weight of my takeaway. When it was my turn to speak I said "I have a wonderful and supportive husband. I have amazing kids. I have incredible friends who love me. Even so, it's still not the same as what/who my Dad was for me. I think in order for me to heal and move on, I need to learn how to be what/who my Dad was for me for myself." 

That weight of that realization makes me nauseous. I have to figure out the extent of what that means and then figure out how to accomplish that feat. I know it means trust and security. I know it means unconditional love and acceptance. It means I have to keep my promises to myself. It means that I need to feel financially secure on my own (even though I'm not on my own).

I made the commitment to myself to quit drinking and I've kept that promise for almost four years now. That felt overwhelmingly impossible and too hard. I did it though. This feels even more daunting because I don't really know how to achieve/be all of these things for myself. I will start with a commitment to mediate and journal more consistently.