My grandfather was actually in the Battle of the Bulge in Dubya Dubya II. He passed away last November, just a month or so shy of 90.
My father passed away last January, 32 years to the day that his father, my other grandfather passed away. My dad was 66. He died very suddenly and unexpectedly. And it has turned my world upside down.
I've gained 30 pounds since my dad died. You hear about those people who waste away to nothing because of grief, and of course, I am not one of those people. I'm the other kind, dammit. DAMMIT.
I was already 20 pounds or so overweight before my dad passed. That means that I am 50 pounds or so overweight. 50. 50! 50?! (I can't believe I just wrote that for the world to see. Then again, if you see the size of my bum, it's kind of well, umm, obvious.)
I've tried the diet plans. The ones that ship the food to your home. Yeah, that is fine and dandy, but when I follow up their meal with an entire sleeve of Thin Mints, I'm thinking I may not be successful. I go to the gym often, but 'they' say that your diet is a lot more of the equation to weight loss than working out. Figures.
My friend, Beth, just posted this about a book (Woman Food and God) about diets. Beth sums up the book quite nicely: Her message is simple, really: that we need to live in the present moment, that we need to be aware of ourselves and what we need and we need to feel what we truly feel. I'm going to have to read that book.
But here's the thing, I don't want to feel the pain and the grief. I prefer to shake (literally) the thoughts that my dad is really dead out of my head when they enter.
Well, that way of dealing isn't quite working, obviously. Time to reassess and make some changes.
* I just want the fat and grief to melt away like that snow on my terrace table.
I am an emotional eater too :( I had skin cancer last year and my grandfather died around the same time, so I packed on about 15 lbs. I gave myself permission to just really dive into the grief over the winter, really mourn the fact that I will NOT be laying by the pool in a bikini, I will not be spending 10 hours on a beach in a day, and that my kids will never get to know my grandfather.
ReplyDeleteI cried, I ate, I held little pity parties for myself, I drank a lot of great cocktails, I bitched to friends. It's been very helpful.
Mondo has seemed like the time to stand back and think about what I want to do with my time instead of grieve.
I'm sorry to hear about your father.
Hey You…
ReplyDeleteAlmost a year after being listed for new lungs on 9/7/1997 – my Pop, who had never been sick a day in his life, was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and we learned it had metastasized. He went through chemo for a year as my lungs got even worse – we were sometimes pathetic to the point of laughing walking around together. I vividly remember climbing the steps at home together, chatting about frustrations with doctors and tests and appointments, and he turned and told me that he was learning to become more like me… I gave him a card at his next and last birthday and inside I wrote that he has always been my hero. I remember him crying when he read it.
I know that we both always knew it – but during those months I think we both had a realization that we were always one another’s heroes… He passed away a year after his diagnosis – and almost a year before I got my beautiful lungs. I always know how much he would have wanted to see me like I am now… We were so wrapped up in my illness, then wrapped up in both mine and my Dad’s illness, and then back to my illness only – we didn’t have time to mourn properly when he passed… A year later I got my lungs – weeks after that we went out and I bought a Nat King Cole album. When “Stardust” played a whole lot of memories came rushing back and I sat there crying…
Death sucks. But it always happens… Just like my Dad will always be a part of me, yours will always be a part of you – and that part of them will always be with us – they will always be with us. They’re dead – and they would want us to remember them fondly – and not hurt and grieve over them… And they wouldn’t give a rat’s ass how big or small we got, they will always love us…
I’ve got a girl on my mind who I’ve never, ever met – I think about her always – sometimes I grieve and miss her dearly, even though I’ve never met her – most times I think of who she was and what she wanted, and I feel her smile wrap around me while I feel myself breathe with her lungs… I’ve met her family and so many of her friends and they tell me about her – and they tell me that she would LOVE what she’s done for me… That doesn’t make me miss her less – but it also lets me know that she would want me to be happy and delight in the gift she gave me…
You’re one of the bubblier people I know in this world. I don’t think I ever met your Dad – but I have to believe that he adored you – and that he was proud of you… Try to lose some of the hurt, and accept the loss – and feel warm and smile when you remember him, if only because that’s what he would want…
And I have a theory that if I simply stop eating meals, and only eat dessert – I’ll drastically cut my calories, shed a few pounds, and live the dream all at the same time!!! You take care…
Love, Steve
Aw, honey, I so know how you feel. When my friend Dave died last year, I just threw in the towel, food-wise. I ate whatever I wanted.
ReplyDeleteAnd I regret it now.
I wish we could wave magic wands and make it all go away, the grief, the pounds. Alas, all we can do is take things one day at a time.
On a lighter note, it is not lost on me that the snow in your photograph looks like French fries ...
xo
Ok! Thanks for making me cry for the second time this morning. Just on my way to work today I had to shake my head to get the memory of my mom to the back again. Love ya bunches!!!
ReplyDeleteLaura--Yes, I hope somehow Mondo will help me turn a corner.
ReplyDeleteSteve-- I'm on it.. the dessert diet it is.
Beth-- HA! french fries. yum
Nancy-- love you too sweetie
Ironically I bought the book and I'm excited to start it. We can have our own bookclub. ;)
ReplyDelete