We're coping emotionally.
But the thing that really irks me, is the definition of mourning/grieving.
I was brought up to be a freedom child. To embrace who I really am, instead of hiding or turning myself into a cookie cutter; just to conform into the society's standard of anything.
Perhaps this is where my confidence comes from - to love myself as who I am, Regardlessly.
Sure, there are basic rules to live by as humans.
But the freedom to be anybody that I want to be. That's how my parents show their love for me, to invest in my gifts and talents, instead of forcing me to become something else that they wished me to be.
What I cannot accept, is this weird theory where the shittier you look, means more filial piety + you really love your dad + you're grieving and is really sad.
I don't know who came up with that theory. But I'm sorry.
Grieving comes from the heart and within.
Not from how I look and the exterior.
Looking strong and normal does not mean that I'm not heart broken from the loss of a father, or as my sister puts it: The first man who loved me.
In fact, I doubt my dad expects me to walk around like a hobo just to prove that I miss him, or to affirm his demise.
That's just strange, and it makes everyone around me uncomfortable.
As it is, I feel that my friends are really scared that if they say something wrong, it might trigger my tears or emotions.
Here's my take on it.
Instead of moping in pity, I'd rather suck it all up, and make effort to live even better than I had before, because my dad exist in me.
Without dad and mom, where the heck would I be?
I look like my dad. That's what everyone says to me.
In that case, without a doubt. The better I live, the better my dad would live through me, for I live now not for myself, but on behalf of my daddy.
Back to mourning.
Here's the rules of engagement.
No happy colors, no make up, no bling = no accessories, no bright colored underwear, no nail polish, along with no celebrations, No visiting friends house.
It's like i am expected to be the living dead.
Wth.
I'm sticking to monotones and blues out of respect to the tradition.
No accessories or make up or joyous occasion is overboard.
I'm trying to move on. Looking like shit doesn't help with the hurdle.
Remembering dad has got to come in more sincere forms than just action for the living to see.
So glad to get this off my chest.
It's been bugging me since the first day til now.
I spent a night digging out and sorting my wardrobe of black white grey blues and greens.
Luckily I'm mostly the white sort of girl by default, and the siblings favor blacks in general.
:)
