The Not-So-Little Green Monster Named Jealousy

Saturday our friends Kathleen and Adam were married in Peoria. The ceremony was beautiful and the reception was a lot of fun. But through both, a lot of what I was feeling was jealousy and sadness.

I was sad for my sister, who on her wedding day will walk down the isle alone.

I was jealous and sad when Kathleen's dad made an emotional speech at the reception. I will never again hear my father say 'I love you'.

I was jealous of all the women that still had their fathers - the women who don't know what its like to lose your dad, who take him for granted, because having him in your life is all you know, until you don't.

I was jealous and sad during Kathleen's father-daughter dance. My dad loved to dance (and had some pretty good moves!). My sister will have no father-daughter dance at her wedding.

I was jealous and sad as I watched Kathleen dancing with her three sisters - laughing, acting crazy - you could just tell they had 'that kind' of relationship, 'that kind' of friendship. My siblings and I don't have that, for varied but deep seeded reasons.

I wish I didn't feel jealousy or sadness over such little things - things that are fundamentally so happy. But I do. My feelings were most likely compounded because the day after (August 16th), marks the one year anniversary of spreading my dads ashes. But it's not just at weddings or because of a holiday or anniversary, it's every day. It's every time someone casually mentions their own father in passing and I have to catch my breath and consciously try not to think about my own father and how I will never again be able to refer to him in the present. It's every time I want to talk about my dad but can't out of fear. Fear that I will break down crying, fear that people will feel weird if I talk about my deceased father, and the fear that comes from knowing that people who have not lost a parent cannot possibly understand that it's something you never, never get over. It's all the time, and I can't change that; I just have to live with it and try not to be consumed by it.