I stopped believing in Heaven at 8 years old. While I was at it, I threw God out of the realm of possibilities as well. When my Grandad died, I stopped a lot of things. I stopped my tears from falling. I stopped caring about myself. A distance grew between me and my parents. A larger distance than the one that already existed. I grew detached and I isolated myself. Something was already off with me. This solidified the deal. Can’t get hurt if there’s no one around you to do the hurting. Can’t feel grief if you don’t love anybody. The problem was I lost part of myself in that whole unfurling of events. It was the beginning of the end for me. I felt I had control by putting in the stop loss tactic that my little mind came up with. Nearly 30 years later, I am finally ready to get curious about what this loss was like for that little girl.

Today is February 27th and the 28th anniversary of his death. I didn’t know the date of his death until late last year. In part, I think the declaration that Heaven and God did not exist came from some type of denial. I had no idea he was dying. In hindsight, there were signs, sure. But the way my brain works is that I need to be told things point blank. You can’t beat around the bush, or tell me something in code and expect me to pick up on it. I was told he was sick. I had seen him walk into a wall at a family BBQ we had just before he ended up in hospital. Yes, that was odd. But I wasn’t told he was dying. I was told he had cancer. Yes, but I wasn’t told he was dying.

He walked into the wall, and panic erupted in our house. I got quickly sent to the neighbours house for a mid-week sleepover that night. I didn’t know what that meant. It was exciting to me. Sleepovers were for weekends. I loved those girls. There room was directly opposite mine with only an 8 foot fence in between. We had walkie-talkies so we could keep talking to each other even after our afternoon hangouts had finished. We often slept top-to-tail, so this time was no different. Except it was different, I just didn’t know it.

I went to school with them in the morning. I can’t quite recall, but I think I stayed there a few nights. One day I got dropped back at my house and innocently came skipping through the house, excited to see my parents. The house was empty though. Another sign I didn’t pick up on. What I did pick up on was the oddity of everyone in my parent’s bedroom. Dad at the door, Grandma sitting on the bed, Mum laying in the bed. Mum laying in bed, at this hour? Mum’s face is bright red. She’s crying. Not just crying, distraught. I have never seen my Mum like that before. My Mum is impossible to read at the best of times. Not today though.

“What’s wrong!?”

“Grandad’s gone”

“Where did he go?”

At this stage in my recollections (currently under reconstruction aka trying to get my memories back), I can only assume they said something about Heaven, but I can’t recall exactly. There is the shock I was in, but also my Dad getting awkward and uncomfortable with my Mum’s heart wrenching sobs. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to cuddle up to her and cry with her. He was my favourite person in the world. Instead my Dad ushered me out of the room and closed the door on me. I stood there, frozen, I couldn’t say for how long.

I stood there until I decided that if they didn’t need me, then I didn’t need them. I had seen people die on TV shows and in movies. I could do this myself. I went marched to my room, I put on a song to help me think of him. My choice was Let the Canefields Burn by Graeme Connors. This is an iconic choice from little ol me, for many layered reasons, but that’s another story. I sat there on an oversized armchair that I had somehow convinced my parents to allow me to have in my overly furnished room (Big into Feng Shui at that time, and rearranging my room for new energy flow experiments). I stared out at the tree outside my window and then up to the sky as I pondered if that was where he had gone. A single tear fell down the left side of my face. I am speculating, but I think that when it got to a certain part of the song, I decided to stuff all these heavy emotions down along with my belief of Heaven and God and subsequently decided that none of it was real.

Looking at the lyrics tonight, I am almost certain the part was:

“Let me feel no pain”

I still have not grieved my Grandad’s death. Nearly 30 years of carrying this pain, I am now deciding to try and find where it is that I locked it away. This will be key for unlocking more of my Missing In Action tears.

Today was heavy and hard. I was restless, numb, tired, distracted, sad with no tears. Pretty apt way of describing how I zombie walked around in my life until recently.

The obstacle is the way.