Hello! How are you?
Great! How about yourself?
Gooooood, thanks for asking.
I lied 1,026 times today. Okay maybe not exactly that, but I’d say I got some where close to that number. On days I have to brave the public, I lie quite a bit. Out of formality as humans, people will say, “How you doin’? How are you? How’s your day going?” In a good percentage of these conversations, there is no conversation, as it ends with the response: “Oh I’m alright. Good. Great, thank you.” I think it’s safe to say that a good percentage of those responses are lies, or omissions of a larger, truthier part of our lives. But no one wants to hear some random Billy Sue tell us how they REALLY are when they just want to buy their coffee and go.
As of right now, my primary place of work is in retail. Common customer service in a place of business requires the employee to greet customers and occassionally make small talk. So, in addition to the auto pilot encounters I have everyday, it is multiplied by the amount of customer service I provide for a living. If you knew me well enough, you would know that I am not a big fan of small talk. I like to get to the nitty gritty. The real stuff. Yes, I realize everything is not that deep or thought provoking, but I realized something new today:
When I don’t get to talk, I find myself deeply submerged in my own thoughts. Every “hello, how are you?” triggers something in my brain that makes me think a million miles a minute.
I have had to stop myself from unleashing the information kraken on Billy Sues on many occasions.
It occurred to me that my dad passed away about 3 months ago and it feels like just yesterday. When I get a moment to sit and think about telling him about my day on my lunch break, or helping him “work his email”, I begin to feel a vast emptiness in my heart. A burning hole of questions and scattered memories.
I am tired all the time. I lack motivation most of the times, but I remember my dad telling me,” You came all this way, why stop now?”
I relied on my dad’s reassurance, his verbal encouragement. No on can coax a daddy’s girl, but her daddy. I foolishly gave myself a deadline. Like…girl, this ain’t journalism. There is no plan or timeline for grieving.
I was told this wouldn’t be easy, but I thought I was getting to a point where thinking of his absence wouldn’t pierce my chest. I thought I could smile and truly mean it. I am certainly not “gooooood” (insert half smile here). I’ve realized that in this process I need to be okay with telling myself that “I am not fine.” I know I will eventually get there, but for now, I can’t pretend it any longer.
God, I miss my dad.