Paying the Price

As I try to move on with my life following my dad's suicide, I find myself experiencing a range of emotions each day.  I feel like I'm all over the spectrum.  Grief, anger, guilt, acceptance, denial; they all come on so unexpectedly, and so ferociously.  My dad is all that I can think about.  Even when I am busy doing something, he is always there.  In a way, I suppose I can choose to find some comfort in that.  He is still with me, always in my thoughts -- locked within my brain.

When I learned of my father's death, my whole world turned upside down.  At this point, now nearly two weeks since we found him, my life is in limbo.  I am not the same person that I was two weeks ago, but I haven't quite figured out who the new Diane is.  With my dad's death, I paid a price.  A terrible and immeasurable price.  It was not a price that I chose to pay, but it has been paid in full -- in a very final sort of way.  I know that there is nothing I could ever do to make it worth it.  It will never be okay; it will never be right.  What I can do is seize this opportunity to create goodness as I discover my changed self.  I can allow my memories of my father to be my shining light -- embodying his friendliness, kindness, and love for people.  I have a moment now to take a good, long look at my priorities.  I have been given a tragically beautiful moment to reevaluate life.