One day at a time

Where to begin...

I know for some people who I am usually closely in touch with, I have remained aloof. For the first time in a while I'm not going to apologize. For those who have lost a parent I need not elaborate how life has become. For those who haven't, imagine an enormous meteor suddenly striking your heart, taking out an enormous chunk and sending clouds of debris up into your brain. At first there is enough debris clouding your mind that it makes it hard to eat, or even breath really! Vocabulary becomes reduced to two syllables and physical appearance and makeup become unimportant. You literally have to re-learn how to organize thoughts.
In the last eight years my sisters and I have lost our three remaining grandparents and now our father. The whole fabric of our family unit has been ripped to pieces! The first thing that strikes me is how desperately angry I become winding my head around this depressing reality. How does one learn from ones elders when there is only one left?!?!
During the last few weeks I've experienced every emotion known to humanity. Obviously the two most prominent are grief and anger. The grief is self evident, but the anger is sometimes indescribable. When you're living in a house with seven grieving women, it's not a great idea to let that beast loose. To help manage the anger specifically. I've rung a quarter peel on the 2200w (~1 ton) tenor bell, I've walked about 2 miles a day and I've even played a vicious game of frisbee with Sarah's boyfriend Ed (bless him!). It feels great for the body, but it doesn't heal the soul. I've been told that the healing isn't something that will happen anytime soon...
Even though my family and everyone who knew my Father has been robbed of an incredible person, nothing can change that. It is our job to now go on living as he would have wanted, as he taught us and in such a way that would make him proud.