What a month it has been; non-stop work, family activities, house stuff, and just being plain old busy has occupied almost every day. I barely have time to catch my breath! Along with being busy, some health issues have popped up so I'm trying my best to not overwhelm myself too much. I want to just pause time a little and enjoy my favorite month slowly!
October is such a fun month but it's also packed with some emotional baggage. XH and I split up three years ago this month. I didn't even realize the date until late that night when I finally checked my Timehop app. I was surprised that I hadn't remembered and laughed at myself a little. I was so utterly destroyed a mere three years ago and now here I am, it's been quite a journey and transformation. What started out as total devastation ended up being the most amazing opportunity for me. If I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing, I'm exactly where I want to be and I am exactly who I want to be. I'm so damn grateful for the last three years because the beauty that sprung up out of so much ugly has been just completely mind-blowing.
October is also the month that my Dad started hospice. Four years ago this month, we started his final journey. I'm sad that it's already creeping up on four years since he died. So much has changed and is continuing to change and I just desperately wish he were here to experience it all with us. I miss him with an ache that I feel deep to my soul. I can't explain how it feels so differently from other grief I've experienced and I can't express just how deeply the cut goes but I can tell you that living with it is sometimes very hard. Time has helped me adjust to living with it though but that doesn't make it easier, it just makes it manageable.
What I've learned though is that life goes on and you can either keep up with it or get left behind. I chose to not only keep up but to toss laughter, sarcasm, and pink glitter everywhere I go...with just a dash of hope. Because the best way to counteract the sad parts is with all the good you can!
Showing posts with label my Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my Dad. Show all posts
October 13, 2015
August 22, 2015
Since he's been gone
My Dad's birthday was this week, he would have turned 58. I imagine we all would have gone out to eat and then gathered around him with a cake lit with bunches of candles. He'd tease the grandkids, my big brother and him would talk about work, and he'd bicker with my Mom over mundane things. It would be the same scene that played out over and over throughout the years. Funny how you don't realize how much the same ol' thing means to you until you don't have it anymore.
Instead, we all spent the day pulled into different directions. Acknowledging the day through group texts and a quick mention when we did happen to see each other. Only a couple of us made it to the cemetery, something I feel extremely guilty about now because I didn't make it out there. I was too swamped with work, playing catch up after a weekend spent at the hospital with my sick grandma. I was up late that night, after the house had long gone silent. I made my way outside to sit beneath the dark sky and just started talking to my Dad. Wished him a happy birthday, if he even celebrates it in Heaven. Told him how much I miss and love him, reminisced a little. I made my way back inside afterward and crept into bed next to a man whom my Dad never laid eyes on. It just struck me as so very odd. And incredibly sad.
Almost daily I remark to M how much I wish they could have met. How sad I am that he will never meet the man who is my hero. My Dad only exists to him through memories and pictures, which never really capture the true essence of a person. And really, how could they? How could they convey how truly funny, sarcastic, and strong a person was? A picture doesn't tell you the way they spoke with a Texas twang, or the goofy laugh he did when truly amused by something. It doesn't reveal the man who always had an answer, who could explain every heartache in a way that made sense, or who was always up for a good adventure. They fail to show him the greatest man I've ever known. The man who helped make me the woman I am. The woman M loves so much, the woman who fought tooth and nail to be this person he adores.
I so wish things were different. I wish he were here to see all the life that has happened since he's been gone. I wish I could talk to him, see him, hug him, laugh with him. I guess I'll always wish for more of him. People tell me that's just a part of living life with a deceased loved one. Always wishing for just one more day.
I gotta be honest, it's a real bitch.
Instead, we all spent the day pulled into different directions. Acknowledging the day through group texts and a quick mention when we did happen to see each other. Only a couple of us made it to the cemetery, something I feel extremely guilty about now because I didn't make it out there. I was too swamped with work, playing catch up after a weekend spent at the hospital with my sick grandma. I was up late that night, after the house had long gone silent. I made my way outside to sit beneath the dark sky and just started talking to my Dad. Wished him a happy birthday, if he even celebrates it in Heaven. Told him how much I miss and love him, reminisced a little. I made my way back inside afterward and crept into bed next to a man whom my Dad never laid eyes on. It just struck me as so very odd. And incredibly sad.
Almost daily I remark to M how much I wish they could have met. How sad I am that he will never meet the man who is my hero. My Dad only exists to him through memories and pictures, which never really capture the true essence of a person. And really, how could they? How could they convey how truly funny, sarcastic, and strong a person was? A picture doesn't tell you the way they spoke with a Texas twang, or the goofy laugh he did when truly amused by something. It doesn't reveal the man who always had an answer, who could explain every heartache in a way that made sense, or who was always up for a good adventure. They fail to show him the greatest man I've ever known. The man who helped make me the woman I am. The woman M loves so much, the woman who fought tooth and nail to be this person he adores.
I so wish things were different. I wish he were here to see all the life that has happened since he's been gone. I wish I could talk to him, see him, hug him, laugh with him. I guess I'll always wish for more of him. People tell me that's just a part of living life with a deceased loved one. Always wishing for just one more day.
I gotta be honest, it's a real bitch.
April 10, 2015
Siblings
I have three siblings; they are the banes of my existence, the thorns in my ass, the gum on the bottom of my shoe.....but they are also worthy adversaries and the great gifts my parents ever gave me. I have an older brother, a younger sister, and a little brother. Two of them are married so I also have an incredible SIL and a hilarious BIL. The best thing my siblings have ever done is give me nephews and nieces so I think I'll keep them around.
The Cowboy is the oldest of six so I've gained three brothers and two sisters. They are funny, caring, wild, and so entertaining. We have spent many a night drinking with his brothers and having a great time- we've been kicked out of bars, inferred with bar fights, and ruled the beer pong table. I adore his brothers. His sisters are young, 22 and 10, but they are a blast to hang out with too. I've played dolls with his baby sister countless times, painted nails, and gossiped with his other sister. His 22 y/o sister recently moved to my hometown, where we also are, so we get to see her and her son often, it's awesome
I lived away from my family for six years and missed them so damn much. It was really hard to not be around them and moving back was the best decision I ever made. We definitely don't always get along but we always make up and move on from our disagreements, no matter how big or small. They've seen me through my darkest time and always celebrate my accomplishments with me.
Hands down, the darkest time in our family was when my Dad was dying. I wasn't sure how we, as a family, would handle it but everyone rallied and came together to limp through that ordeal. It's odd that some of my most cherished memories are from those five weeks my Dad spent on hospice. We just tucked into my brother's house and rarely left that cocoon until it was all over. I'm grateful that my Dad passed surrounded by us and grateful that we all had each other to lean on afterward.
We still struggle with the grief and sometimes it's hard to all be together because my Dad's absence becomes so glaringly obvious. But we talk about him often and enjoy reminiscing, we are the keepers of each others childhood after all.
Family really is everything to me. I'd be so lost without them and I'm just really, really grateful to be back around them. This Friday, they are entirely what I am most grateful for, they are my whole list this week!
The Cowboy is the oldest of six so I've gained three brothers and two sisters. They are funny, caring, wild, and so entertaining. We have spent many a night drinking with his brothers and having a great time- we've been kicked out of bars, inferred with bar fights, and ruled the beer pong table. I adore his brothers. His sisters are young, 22 and 10, but they are a blast to hang out with too. I've played dolls with his baby sister countless times, painted nails, and gossiped with his other sister. His 22 y/o sister recently moved to my hometown, where we also are, so we get to see her and her son often, it's awesome
I lived away from my family for six years and missed them so damn much. It was really hard to not be around them and moving back was the best decision I ever made. We definitely don't always get along but we always make up and move on from our disagreements, no matter how big or small. They've seen me through my darkest time and always celebrate my accomplishments with me.
Hands down, the darkest time in our family was when my Dad was dying. I wasn't sure how we, as a family, would handle it but everyone rallied and came together to limp through that ordeal. It's odd that some of my most cherished memories are from those five weeks my Dad spent on hospice. We just tucked into my brother's house and rarely left that cocoon until it was all over. I'm grateful that my Dad passed surrounded by us and grateful that we all had each other to lean on afterward.
We still struggle with the grief and sometimes it's hard to all be together because my Dad's absence becomes so glaringly obvious. But we talk about him often and enjoy reminiscing, we are the keepers of each others childhood after all.
Family really is everything to me. I'd be so lost without them and I'm just really, really grateful to be back around them. This Friday, they are entirely what I am most grateful for, they are my whole list this week!
December 2, 2014
3 Years Since I Lost My Dad
Some days I am just overflowing with words, thoughts, and emotions, they just seem to pour out of me. But then there are those days where there are no words. Today is an incredibly odd mix of both- no words but plenty of thoughts and emotions.
Today is 3 years since my Dad died.
3 whole years without him. 3 whole years in which my entire life turned upside down. 3 whole years and a million tears. Missing him even more than I ever thought was possible and aching for just one more chance to see him, or talk to him, or hug him, or hear him say my name. Oh man, I'd give just about anything for just one more of everything.
I look for him in everyone and in everything. Cousins suddenly look like him or share a personality trait. A random but significant song on the radio is surely a message from him. A ladybug landing on me is obviously his way of showing his presence. I could go on and on with these anecdotes, I have hundreds. But what it really comes down to is my longing for more. I yearn to feel him just one more time so I'm constantly searching for him. And so shall it be for the rest of my life.
His death has changed everything. Time has changed nothing. It still hurts, I'm still sad, I still cry, I still miss him. It goes without saying that I still love my Dad, his death has altered how I can love him but it hasn't touched the depth.
Today is 3 years since my Dad died.
3 whole years without him. 3 whole years in which my entire life turned upside down. 3 whole years and a million tears. Missing him even more than I ever thought was possible and aching for just one more chance to see him, or talk to him, or hug him, or hear him say my name. Oh man, I'd give just about anything for just one more of everything.
I look for him in everyone and in everything. Cousins suddenly look like him or share a personality trait. A random but significant song on the radio is surely a message from him. A ladybug landing on me is obviously his way of showing his presence. I could go on and on with these anecdotes, I have hundreds. But what it really comes down to is my longing for more. I yearn to feel him just one more time so I'm constantly searching for him. And so shall it be for the rest of my life.
His death has changed everything. Time has changed nothing. It still hurts, I'm still sad, I still cry, I still miss him. It goes without saying that I still love my Dad, his death has altered how I can love him but it hasn't touched the depth.
September 29, 2014
Go Home, October
The calendar is about to turn to October and if you've been following me since the start, then you know how much I adore Autumn. I love everything about this season and October has long been my most favorite month. But, now, it's really lost a lot of it's appeal. You see, October is when XH and I became us, all those years ago. In fact, it would have been 15 years this month. Instead whatever use to be us is forever lost and frozen in time at thirteen years. The other thing that makes this month hard is the other significant date that coincidentally also happened in October. And that is the date XH called me and confessed his desire for a divorce. I have a thing about synchronicity and the fact that we both started and ended in October just resonates with me. Never-mind that we married in July and our divorce finalized in December. Even though those actual dates show synchronicity too, but I digress.
October is also the month my Dad had his massive bilateral stroke in 2008. That set us down the path of colon cancer and the slow realization that his time with us was very limited. We ended up starting hospice care for him three years later in October 2011 and he died five weeks later, in December.
It's the above reasons that make October and December so bittersweet, so emotionally taxing. I'm happily decorating the house in all it's Halloween splendor. I'm gleefully buying/drinking/eating all the pumpkin spiced goods. I'm thrilled to be planning trips to the corn maze, pumpkin patch, haunted houses, and the Renaissance Festival. I haven't yet pulled out the leggings, tights, light sweaters, and boots because Houston hasn't gotten the memo that Autumn has officially started, but I know it's only a matter of time! The coziness of the next three months is about to start and I do love it. But, fuck, it's bittersweet.
Things have been hard lately, I'm not going to lie. My health issues are a hard pill to swallow. Things are weird with a couple of my friends. I'm stressed about my continued non-luck with job hunting. And, this shit with XH is weighing on me too. Add to that some pregnancy announcements and me missing my Dad and it makes for one emotional Amanda.
::September 28th was my 6th blogoversary! Imagine me throwing confetti all over you and giving you a huge hug. If you are ever in my hood, I'm totally buying you a drink! Much love to all of you who have been here from the early days, if you in fact are still following along..lol::
October is also the month my Dad had his massive bilateral stroke in 2008. That set us down the path of colon cancer and the slow realization that his time with us was very limited. We ended up starting hospice care for him three years later in October 2011 and he died five weeks later, in December.
It's the above reasons that make October and December so bittersweet, so emotionally taxing. I'm happily decorating the house in all it's Halloween splendor. I'm gleefully buying/drinking/eating all the pumpkin spiced goods. I'm thrilled to be planning trips to the corn maze, pumpkin patch, haunted houses, and the Renaissance Festival. I haven't yet pulled out the leggings, tights, light sweaters, and boots because Houston hasn't gotten the memo that Autumn has officially started, but I know it's only a matter of time! The coziness of the next three months is about to start and I do love it. But, fuck, it's bittersweet.
Things have been hard lately, I'm not going to lie. My health issues are a hard pill to swallow. Things are weird with a couple of my friends. I'm stressed about my continued non-luck with job hunting. And, this shit with XH is weighing on me too. Add to that some pregnancy announcements and me missing my Dad and it makes for one emotional Amanda.
::September 28th was my 6th blogoversary! Imagine me throwing confetti all over you and giving you a huge hug. If you are ever in my hood, I'm totally buying you a drink! Much love to all of you who have been here from the early days, if you in fact are still following along..lol::
June 10, 2014
Dear Dad,
Father's Day is coming up and I'm dreading this year even more than previous years. I guess I thought it might get a little easier as more time went by but it's actually the opposite. And it's not exactly that it's getting worse, it's just that it's getting more challenging, I suppose. But I'm not even sure that's the right word either. It's like there is this huge gap between us now and the more time that passes between now and the last time you were alive just widens the gulf. That gulf is what makes it harder as more time passes. It just makes it so much more real that you are really gone. More real that the longer I live, the more I have to experience without you. I really have to live the rest of my life without you and that just doesn't make any sense to me. Not when I still need you so much.
It's weird to me that you are missing out on so much in our lives. Weird that there is now this man in my life who you will never meet. I often say to the Cowboy just how much I wish you two could meet. I wonder what you would think about him, if you would get along with him. It messes with me that you only exist to him in my memories and in the pictures I show him. And I do talk about you often to him, everyone actually does. He often tells me what other people say to him about you. What cousins, uncles, aunts and my siblings say. The little funny stories they share about you help make you more alive to him. He tells me he wishes he had met you too because you sound like such an amazing guy and I just shake my head sadly and tell him he doesn't know the half of it yet.
As much as I try to not think about the future, my over-thinking mind sometimes just can't help it. I think about getting married again and how sad it'll make me to not have you walk me down the aisle or dance with me. I get even more sad when I think about not being able to see your expression when I announce a pregnancy because I know how excited you got every time you found out another grandchild was on the way. I hate that I'll never see you hold my baby. That my baby will grow up with only your memories. I had a dream recently that I had just given birth and when they placed the baby on me, I started crying and whispered to him, "Your Grandpa loves you so much and will always be watching over you." And I know that I'll probably say that exact thing whenever the time does come.
I know that I'll go out to see you on Sunday and we'll talk about you all day, probably shed a few tears. We're BBQing because that was your favorite thing. You will simultaneously feel both more alive and more gone to us. I hate it all because it's just the emptiest feeling to visit a cemetery and talk to a slab of stone. I'm glad you're no longer in pain and I know you are watching over us but I miss you so much that miss doesn't even scratch the surface, I need a stronger word for miss. I need you.
It's weird to me that you are missing out on so much in our lives. Weird that there is now this man in my life who you will never meet. I often say to the Cowboy just how much I wish you two could meet. I wonder what you would think about him, if you would get along with him. It messes with me that you only exist to him in my memories and in the pictures I show him. And I do talk about you often to him, everyone actually does. He often tells me what other people say to him about you. What cousins, uncles, aunts and my siblings say. The little funny stories they share about you help make you more alive to him. He tells me he wishes he had met you too because you sound like such an amazing guy and I just shake my head sadly and tell him he doesn't know the half of it yet.
As much as I try to not think about the future, my over-thinking mind sometimes just can't help it. I think about getting married again and how sad it'll make me to not have you walk me down the aisle or dance with me. I get even more sad when I think about not being able to see your expression when I announce a pregnancy because I know how excited you got every time you found out another grandchild was on the way. I hate that I'll never see you hold my baby. That my baby will grow up with only your memories. I had a dream recently that I had just given birth and when they placed the baby on me, I started crying and whispered to him, "Your Grandpa loves you so much and will always be watching over you." And I know that I'll probably say that exact thing whenever the time does come.
I know that I'll go out to see you on Sunday and we'll talk about you all day, probably shed a few tears. We're BBQing because that was your favorite thing. You will simultaneously feel both more alive and more gone to us. I hate it all because it's just the emptiest feeling to visit a cemetery and talk to a slab of stone. I'm glad you're no longer in pain and I know you are watching over us but I miss you so much that miss doesn't even scratch the surface, I need a stronger word for miss. I need you.
February 26, 2014
More Lessons on Grief
My divorce is like a never-ending story, it just seems to always be something. Per our divorce agreement, I won a certain amount of his assets. Getting my hands on said assets is proving to be a headache. One that is resulting in more paperwork and loops to jump through. It's just annoying because it often involves me having to communicate with C, which isn't my favorite thing to do these days, no matter now friendly we are. Because, well, we have a love/hate relationship and to be honest, we've always known how to push each others buttons and we enjoy doing that. Basically, we're both immature but ehh, whatever.
We take turns pissing each other off and usually I am over it within the same day because I think it's stupid for me to be angry with my ex-husband. But C takes it to the extreme, as usual. And I'm not sure what I did or said this time but obviously it was something because when he's pissy with me, he won't speak to me or return calls, texts or emails. It's the most annoying damn thing. I'm trying to get information from him and he's not cooperating. Way to breach our agreement, you sorry SOB.
I received some paperwork in the mail the other day pertaining to all this. I was going over it and literally not understanding a word because legal jargon just makes my eyes cross when a particular sentence jumped out at me: .....Legal blah blah blah....[C and Amanda] were married July 15, 2006 and divorced December 18, 2013. I just stopped for a second and couldn't breathe. Right there in black and white, all legal and shit. Never mind that we've been split up for 16 months. Never mind that we've both spewed hateful words at each other. Never mind that I have another man sleeping in my bed or that he has a girlfriend. Never mind that I've seen the actual divorce decree with the judge's signature and official TX seal. Nothing made it real until I saw it written like that. It bothered me.
Divorce wasn't something that was suppose to happen to C and me, not us. Hell, we were C and Amanda for so long that I didn't know anything else. I knew him better than I knew myself; every scar, every freckle, every story. I took care of him after surgeries, when he was sick and washed his damn boxers. 13 years of love notes, gifts and memories that became meaningless in a single sentence: I want a divorce. I know I'm happier now, I know that I've found a me that I had lost over the course of our marriage but it doesn't make it ok. Nothing will make it ok because I took our marriage seriously and it failed. I failed, he failed, we failed. And that sucks.
Dealing with infertility and my Dad's death, I've learned that grief is entirely it's own entity. A very real emotion that demands attention, often at the oddest moments. One that comes and goes as it pleases. One you can't predict, even when you try. Dealing with my divorce, I've learned that grief isn't an emotion that ends, it just evolves. It changes and morphs into emotions you can't possibly understand. It affects every aspect of yourself and fighting that is futile. You just have to accept that grief is in your life now, permanently. It will always be there, a dark shadow lurking in the background of your life and all it's moments. It's far-reaching and unforgiving.
But, living with grief, while it changes you, it also shows you things about yourself that you never knew or appreciated. For instance, it taught me that I have to enjoy life. I have to endure my life. I have to keep living because grief has taught me just how precious life is. Just how amazing laughing with your loved ones truly is. Just how amazing it is when someone expands their family. Just how amazing a supportive and loving partner is. I marvel at the smallest things now and openly express my feelings because you are never guaranteed another.
It's a double-edged sword. And I'd much rather have my Dad alive and to have never experienced the pain of infertility or divorce. But, since I have experienced those pains, I live with my grief and try my damnedest to make a positive out of it. Sometimes that is easy and other times, it knocks me on my ass. Live and learn, my friends, live and learn. Experience all the ups and downs and when life kicks you in your balls, get back up and smile knowing that you endure.
Or, if you're like me, pour yourself some rum and buy some pretty nail polish.
We take turns pissing each other off and usually I am over it within the same day because I think it's stupid for me to be angry with my ex-husband. But C takes it to the extreme, as usual. And I'm not sure what I did or said this time but obviously it was something because when he's pissy with me, he won't speak to me or return calls, texts or emails. It's the most annoying damn thing. I'm trying to get information from him and he's not cooperating. Way to breach our agreement, you sorry SOB.
I received some paperwork in the mail the other day pertaining to all this. I was going over it and literally not understanding a word because legal jargon just makes my eyes cross when a particular sentence jumped out at me: .....Legal blah blah blah....[C and Amanda] were married July 15, 2006 and divorced December 18, 2013. I just stopped for a second and couldn't breathe. Right there in black and white, all legal and shit. Never mind that we've been split up for 16 months. Never mind that we've both spewed hateful words at each other. Never mind that I have another man sleeping in my bed or that he has a girlfriend. Never mind that I've seen the actual divorce decree with the judge's signature and official TX seal. Nothing made it real until I saw it written like that. It bothered me.
Divorce wasn't something that was suppose to happen to C and me, not us. Hell, we were C and Amanda for so long that I didn't know anything else. I knew him better than I knew myself; every scar, every freckle, every story. I took care of him after surgeries, when he was sick and washed his damn boxers. 13 years of love notes, gifts and memories that became meaningless in a single sentence: I want a divorce. I know I'm happier now, I know that I've found a me that I had lost over the course of our marriage but it doesn't make it ok. Nothing will make it ok because I took our marriage seriously and it failed. I failed, he failed, we failed. And that sucks.
Dealing with infertility and my Dad's death, I've learned that grief is entirely it's own entity. A very real emotion that demands attention, often at the oddest moments. One that comes and goes as it pleases. One you can't predict, even when you try. Dealing with my divorce, I've learned that grief isn't an emotion that ends, it just evolves. It changes and morphs into emotions you can't possibly understand. It affects every aspect of yourself and fighting that is futile. You just have to accept that grief is in your life now, permanently. It will always be there, a dark shadow lurking in the background of your life and all it's moments. It's far-reaching and unforgiving.
But, living with grief, while it changes you, it also shows you things about yourself that you never knew or appreciated. For instance, it taught me that I have to enjoy life. I have to endure my life. I have to keep living because grief has taught me just how precious life is. Just how amazing laughing with your loved ones truly is. Just how amazing it is when someone expands their family. Just how amazing a supportive and loving partner is. I marvel at the smallest things now and openly express my feelings because you are never guaranteed another.
It's a double-edged sword. And I'd much rather have my Dad alive and to have never experienced the pain of infertility or divorce. But, since I have experienced those pains, I live with my grief and try my damnedest to make a positive out of it. Sometimes that is easy and other times, it knocks me on my ass. Live and learn, my friends, live and learn. Experience all the ups and downs and when life kicks you in your balls, get back up and smile knowing that you endure.
Or, if you're like me, pour yourself some rum and buy some pretty nail polish.
December 1, 2013
Dear Dad
When the clock struck midnight and I watched the date flip to December, my stomach just dropped. It doesn't seem possible that it's been two whole years since you died. My mind literally has the hardest time wrapping itself around that fact. I guess it's how I cope, staying just a tad in denial, maybe because accepting it fully and completely would be so absolute. And it's an absolution that I just can't face yet and I'm not sure I really ever will. I mean, logically, I know you're gone but oh man my heart just doesn't want to believe it.
Since you left us, this time of year is always so bittersweet for us. Once that calender flips to October and the days start passing, the grief we always carry just gets heavier every day. Until we eventually land on December 2nd and it just topples us over. The day we all despise because it's the day our hearts lost a piece that we can never replace. Not that we want to but we know we have to go on and so we're learning how to live without you. So many people told me when you died that time heals all wounds. They're wrong though, that is a load of bullshit. All time does is continue and it carries you with it, no matter how much you resist. Time shows you how to learn the new normal that is your life now. Time teaches you how to make peace with the fact that you have a dead parent. You learn how to live with that hole left behind. And losing you left behind a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.
I miss you so much and to such a depth, that I no longer remember what it's like to not miss you. I miss hearing your laugh and seeing you smile. I miss saying "Dad" and you responding to it. I miss listening to you and Mom bicker. I so desperately wish that you were still here. Because the wishing goes hand in hand with the missing, of course. I wish you could play with the grandchildren, they're getting so big. I wish you could give me advice about everything. I wish you could see this house. I wish you could see T get married in two weeks. I wish you were here to hold Mom's hand because she so badly needs that. I just wish I could wrap my arms around you and hear you say, "Amanda".
I've had a really hard time since you left. I haven't always handled it in the most graceful way either. But I hope you are proud of me and how far I have come. I hope you think I'm making the right decisions. I hope I'm honoring you in a way that makes you shake your head as a slow grin stretches across your face. I hope you know just how much I love you and I hope you aren't missing us too badly.
Two years, Dad, two whole fucking years. I'd give anything to have you back because sometimes a girl just really needs her daddy.
Since you left us, this time of year is always so bittersweet for us. Once that calender flips to October and the days start passing, the grief we always carry just gets heavier every day. Until we eventually land on December 2nd and it just topples us over. The day we all despise because it's the day our hearts lost a piece that we can never replace. Not that we want to but we know we have to go on and so we're learning how to live without you. So many people told me when you died that time heals all wounds. They're wrong though, that is a load of bullshit. All time does is continue and it carries you with it, no matter how much you resist. Time shows you how to learn the new normal that is your life now. Time teaches you how to make peace with the fact that you have a dead parent. You learn how to live with that hole left behind. And losing you left behind a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.
I miss you so much and to such a depth, that I no longer remember what it's like to not miss you. I miss hearing your laugh and seeing you smile. I miss saying "Dad" and you responding to it. I miss listening to you and Mom bicker. I so desperately wish that you were still here. Because the wishing goes hand in hand with the missing, of course. I wish you could play with the grandchildren, they're getting so big. I wish you could give me advice about everything. I wish you could see this house. I wish you could see T get married in two weeks. I wish you were here to hold Mom's hand because she so badly needs that. I just wish I could wrap my arms around you and hear you say, "Amanda".
I've had a really hard time since you left. I haven't always handled it in the most graceful way either. But I hope you are proud of me and how far I have come. I hope you think I'm making the right decisions. I hope I'm honoring you in a way that makes you shake your head as a slow grin stretches across your face. I hope you know just how much I love you and I hope you aren't missing us too badly.
Two years, Dad, two whole fucking years. I'd give anything to have you back because sometimes a girl just really needs her daddy.
June 18, 2012
Rolling On
Time just keeps rolling by and I've learned to just roll right along with it. Sometimes it's easy and other times, it is so damn difficult. C and I are doing so good, we've catapulted off the rock bottom we hit and have reached a place we haven't been in since before the azoo diagnosis. The irony of being so happy in my marriage while grieving my father can, at times, be very confusing. It's odd but I'm not going to over-analyze it.
We sold our house after a whopping three days on the market! We decided to go the "for sale by owner" route and have been lucky thus far with the decision. We close mid-July and it can't get here fast enough! I am mentally in Texas already and so done with Arkansas. The new house is almost complete and it looks amazing! I can't wait to move in and spend time with my family. Packing up our AR house has been interesting, not quite sure how I managed to cram so much stuff into 1362 sq feet. Been selling a lot of it on craigslist though!
Father's day was spent in tears, it was even harder than I imagined. I still find myself staring at his picture in disbelief that he's really gone. 6 months later and it still doesn't seem real. Well meaning people keep telling me that time heals and that the pain will lessen, this makes me want to scream at them. No, time doesn't always heal. I'll grieve forever because I'll miss him forever. I just will learn, and am learning, how to live my life with this hole. How to laugh and smile again despite the pain. Every milestone we hit without him is just another reminder of how much we've lost. It's hard and I wish they would stop minimizing my pain. It's ok to grieve, it's ok to be sad. It's not fun but it's ok.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's just a dimmer light without my Dad around. But it's there and I know I'll be ok. I'm learning how to roll on and it's how he would want it.
We sold our house after a whopping three days on the market! We decided to go the "for sale by owner" route and have been lucky thus far with the decision. We close mid-July and it can't get here fast enough! I am mentally in Texas already and so done with Arkansas. The new house is almost complete and it looks amazing! I can't wait to move in and spend time with my family. Packing up our AR house has been interesting, not quite sure how I managed to cram so much stuff into 1362 sq feet. Been selling a lot of it on craigslist though!
Father's day was spent in tears, it was even harder than I imagined. I still find myself staring at his picture in disbelief that he's really gone. 6 months later and it still doesn't seem real. Well meaning people keep telling me that time heals and that the pain will lessen, this makes me want to scream at them. No, time doesn't always heal. I'll grieve forever because I'll miss him forever. I just will learn, and am learning, how to live my life with this hole. How to laugh and smile again despite the pain. Every milestone we hit without him is just another reminder of how much we've lost. It's hard and I wish they would stop minimizing my pain. It's ok to grieve, it's ok to be sad. It's not fun but it's ok.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's just a dimmer light without my Dad around. But it's there and I know I'll be ok. I'm learning how to roll on and it's how he would want it.
June 1, 2012
Dear Dad
It's been 6 months since you left us, 6 very long, emotional months. I am having a hard time understanding how time can keep moving forward without you. How is that you were here and then weren't? Sometimes your last day plays over and over in my mind. I wonder how I missed the signs that you were going to be slipping away, how I could have ignored what was blatantly staring me in the face? Guess they mean it when they talk about how strong denial can be.
Nights are the worse, sleep eludes me as your last breath plays over and over in my mind. It drives me from bed and this feeling of restlessness takes over. I walk around the house, mindlessly surf the net or watch your slideshow until the sun comes up and I can finally sleep. I can't explain why the dark sucks, I'm not scared but I also don't feel 100% safe either. I am eager to move back to TX so that I can be around Mom and the siblings again, I have a feeling that will help tremendously.
Speaking of moving home, we are about 5 weeks from the big move now! The house looks great, it's perfect and we couldn't love it more. I constantly daydream about it and have all these plans for the fun we'll have there. The only sad part is that you won't live with us. It's so hard hearing Mom talk about decorating her room, knowing you won't share it with her. She still gets really sad, we all do. We never dreamed you could miss a person so much. Or what it would feel like to hurt from the deepest part of your soul.
Everyone keeps telling me that it'll get easier, the pain less. But I think that's so stupid. The pain isn't easier or any less, if anything it's worse. I just know how to function a little better now despite that. I can laugh and enjoy life even though I carry this grief all the time. I can't think about Father's Day without tearing up and know it's going to be utter torture. Wish I could rewind time and spend one more day with you. I just want to hug you, hear you say my name. I want to hear you laugh. I want to see your smile.
I just want my Dad back.
Nights are the worse, sleep eludes me as your last breath plays over and over in my mind. It drives me from bed and this feeling of restlessness takes over. I walk around the house, mindlessly surf the net or watch your slideshow until the sun comes up and I can finally sleep. I can't explain why the dark sucks, I'm not scared but I also don't feel 100% safe either. I am eager to move back to TX so that I can be around Mom and the siblings again, I have a feeling that will help tremendously.
Speaking of moving home, we are about 5 weeks from the big move now! The house looks great, it's perfect and we couldn't love it more. I constantly daydream about it and have all these plans for the fun we'll have there. The only sad part is that you won't live with us. It's so hard hearing Mom talk about decorating her room, knowing you won't share it with her. She still gets really sad, we all do. We never dreamed you could miss a person so much. Or what it would feel like to hurt from the deepest part of your soul.
Everyone keeps telling me that it'll get easier, the pain less. But I think that's so stupid. The pain isn't easier or any less, if anything it's worse. I just know how to function a little better now despite that. I can laugh and enjoy life even though I carry this grief all the time. I can't think about Father's Day without tearing up and know it's going to be utter torture. Wish I could rewind time and spend one more day with you. I just want to hug you, hear you say my name. I want to hear you laugh. I want to see your smile.
I just want my Dad back.
May 10, 2012
spiraling downhill
Want to know how to almost cause a woman to have an emotional breakdown? 4 months after her father dies, tell her that her marriage sucks. Guess I'd been too busy mourning to acknowledge that C and I were failing at this whole happily married thing. He so sweetly told me one night after a week of tense arguing between us. Granted he sobbed as he told me his feelings but all I wanted to do was stab him, repeatedly...with a dull knife...in his manly areas...and then dunk him in salt water. I somehow managed to not murder him but did spend a week curled up in a ball, crying and barely eating.
The talks that ensued between us were emotionally exhausting and eye-opening. Factor in a marriage counselor and some soul searching and you end up with two people who are determined to make this work again. Although C's timing sucks major ass, I can't really blame him for breaking down himself. It's been hard for us. Extremely hard. A friend of mine listed all that we've been through in the span of 3 years: my Dad's stroke and subsequent cancer diagnosis, my numerous health problems, infertility, infertility surgeries, finding out about his azoospermia, him switching jobs twice, his cousin committing suicide, my Dad's death and now the stress of building a home back in our hometown and selling our current one. Once I fully realized this, I almost wanted to run away screaming and never look back. Start over again somewhere else and invent a new identity. I seriously keep waiting for my life to stabilize and be normal but it feels like that never happens. I am so tired of living through crisis after crisis.
Dealing with the emotions of his breakdown and it's affect on me has been complicated. Seeing him have the breakdown was painful, more painful than watching my Dad die, to be honest. C's always been so strong and resilient that it just seemed so strange. He's been diagnosed with depression and prescribed medicine so I truly feel like he didn't do this out of spite or to be an asshole. But that doesn't make it easier for me to understand the mess it seems like he made. Our therapist reminds me that it took two of us to make a marriage and it'll take two of us to keep a marriage. So, I'm not completely blameless. I can see where I went wrong and so can he. So we've been spending a lot of time reconnecting and really talking. Doing things that we enjoy together and remembering what life is like when you are laughing and smiling.
We love each other, I know that's half the battle and I know fighting for us is worth it. The titanic sank after only ONE iceberg. What the hell did I expect after we hit a glacier, repeatedly?
The talks that ensued between us were emotionally exhausting and eye-opening. Factor in a marriage counselor and some soul searching and you end up with two people who are determined to make this work again. Although C's timing sucks major ass, I can't really blame him for breaking down himself. It's been hard for us. Extremely hard. A friend of mine listed all that we've been through in the span of 3 years: my Dad's stroke and subsequent cancer diagnosis, my numerous health problems, infertility, infertility surgeries, finding out about his azoospermia, him switching jobs twice, his cousin committing suicide, my Dad's death and now the stress of building a home back in our hometown and selling our current one. Once I fully realized this, I almost wanted to run away screaming and never look back. Start over again somewhere else and invent a new identity. I seriously keep waiting for my life to stabilize and be normal but it feels like that never happens. I am so tired of living through crisis after crisis.
Dealing with the emotions of his breakdown and it's affect on me has been complicated. Seeing him have the breakdown was painful, more painful than watching my Dad die, to be honest. C's always been so strong and resilient that it just seemed so strange. He's been diagnosed with depression and prescribed medicine so I truly feel like he didn't do this out of spite or to be an asshole. But that doesn't make it easier for me to understand the mess it seems like he made. Our therapist reminds me that it took two of us to make a marriage and it'll take two of us to keep a marriage. So, I'm not completely blameless. I can see where I went wrong and so can he. So we've been spending a lot of time reconnecting and really talking. Doing things that we enjoy together and remembering what life is like when you are laughing and smiling.
We love each other, I know that's half the battle and I know fighting for us is worth it. The titanic sank after only ONE iceberg. What the hell did I expect after we hit a glacier, repeatedly?
March 27, 2012
Bringing the IF back
Next week officially marks 4 years of TTC, can I still call it that if we have no sperm and no ovulation? Also, why can nobody give me an answer to that question? Guess I'll call it 4 years of us desperately wanting to be parents. Only the desperate part comes and goes, sometimes it takes all my willpower to not snatch a baby and run and sometimes I gleefully drink too much tequila and sleep in until one. Sometimes, I don't even think about kids or IF or sperm. And that is a bag of mixed emotions in itself.
IF and kids use to consume my every thought and that sucked. It drained me emotionally to the point where I didn't care if we ever had kids or not. I was just so done with IF running my life. I quit posting on the IF message board I loved, stopped blogging and stopped thinking about babies. It was so freeing and I felt normal. Then, everything with my Dad happened- the cancer being back, chemo, hospice, death- and of course it didn't enter my mind. Even now, I had to remind myself what April meant and I waited for the sting of my empty uterus to chime in but it didn't. All was quiet. All is still quiet.
I don't know how I feel about IF and kids right now. I know how I should feel though. I should be sad and desperate to have a baby in my arms. Instead, I stare at pictures of my Dad and remember something Dr. Nuts once said to me. He told me that IF/azoo wasn't the worst thing that could happen to us. At the time, it was a huge slap in the face and I was so hurt by it. Now I get it. Now I see what he meant. The worst happened almost 4 years after what I thought was the worst. IF is horrible and it sucks. But, for me, it wasn't the worst. Not even close but for more reasons than just my Dad's death.
I just know, from somewhere deep inside of me, that I'll have a child or two. I just know with everything I am that IF isn't anything I can't conquer. C and I will come out on the other side. I know this. I know this because we are aiming for an IVF cycle by December.
IF and kids use to consume my every thought and that sucked. It drained me emotionally to the point where I didn't care if we ever had kids or not. I was just so done with IF running my life. I quit posting on the IF message board I loved, stopped blogging and stopped thinking about babies. It was so freeing and I felt normal. Then, everything with my Dad happened- the cancer being back, chemo, hospice, death- and of course it didn't enter my mind. Even now, I had to remind myself what April meant and I waited for the sting of my empty uterus to chime in but it didn't. All was quiet. All is still quiet.
I don't know how I feel about IF and kids right now. I know how I should feel though. I should be sad and desperate to have a baby in my arms. Instead, I stare at pictures of my Dad and remember something Dr. Nuts once said to me. He told me that IF/azoo wasn't the worst thing that could happen to us. At the time, it was a huge slap in the face and I was so hurt by it. Now I get it. Now I see what he meant. The worst happened almost 4 years after what I thought was the worst. IF is horrible and it sucks. But, for me, it wasn't the worst. Not even close but for more reasons than just my Dad's death.
I just know, from somewhere deep inside of me, that I'll have a child or two. I just know with everything I am that IF isn't anything I can't conquer. C and I will come out on the other side. I know this. I know this because we are aiming for an IVF cycle by December.
February 9, 2012
finally some good
The good thing about January? Our trip to Nashville, which was so much fun and the perfect distraction from everything else. But the moment the clock flipped to the 27th, I started crying. My first birthday without my Dad and it was a lot harder than I imagined. So sad he'll never see me age beyond twenty-eight, so sad the days keep coming and going without him. Why hasn't the world stopped? Doesn't a man like him deserve that? I think I'm waiting for some grand send-off, a really spectacular way to say goodbye once and all. Not sure yet what or how that will happen but I know that it'll come to me and that it will be amazing.
So, here I am 29 years old and feeling every minute. Why does 29 sound so much older than 28? Even 30 sounds younger than 29! I've deduced that having a 9 in your age makes it so much worse, that weird filler year before you can celebrate a milestone and start a brand new adventure. I've decided to send the last year (sob) of my twenties (double sob) off with a bang! I'll spend it grieving, yes, but I'll also spend it growing and experiencing new things. Laughing more, listening better and living life to the fullest, it's all carpe diem up in here bitches! I've told C to just laugh and buckle in for this roller coaster, so far he's doing wonderfully. I swear that man is a saint...usually anyway.
If January's theme was bittersweet, than this month's is definitely impulsiveness. Evidenced by a spur of the moment trip to Houston for 4 days...where we also very impulsively bought a new house. Yep, a new house, in our hometown!!!! Well, technically we signed a contract for the new house to be built. It should be finished in mid-July and that's when we close and pay and all that painful stuff. It's big, really big compared to our current 1362 sq ft of loveliness. The new place is more than double that with enough bedrooms for my Mom, little brother, sister and niece to live with us for now. Mom will stay forever because now she's my prisoner but the siblings will move on after finishing school and securing jobs. I am so excited and ready for this big new chapter! I am quite busy these days pinning house ideas on Pin.terest and daydreaming about paint colors.
Tomorrow is 10 weeks since my Dad passed, both unbelievable and strange. I spend a lot of time wishing he was going to live with us too and imagining how that would be. Missing him deeply and thanking him for pushing this to happen so quickly.
So, here I am 29 years old and feeling every minute. Why does 29 sound so much older than 28? Even 30 sounds younger than 29! I've deduced that having a 9 in your age makes it so much worse, that weird filler year before you can celebrate a milestone and start a brand new adventure. I've decided to send the last year (sob) of my twenties (double sob) off with a bang! I'll spend it grieving, yes, but I'll also spend it growing and experiencing new things. Laughing more, listening better and living life to the fullest, it's all carpe diem up in here bitches! I've told C to just laugh and buckle in for this roller coaster, so far he's doing wonderfully. I swear that man is a saint...usually anyway.
If January's theme was bittersweet, than this month's is definitely impulsiveness. Evidenced by a spur of the moment trip to Houston for 4 days...where we also very impulsively bought a new house. Yep, a new house, in our hometown!!!! Well, technically we signed a contract for the new house to be built. It should be finished in mid-July and that's when we close and pay and all that painful stuff. It's big, really big compared to our current 1362 sq ft of loveliness. The new place is more than double that with enough bedrooms for my Mom, little brother, sister and niece to live with us for now. Mom will stay forever because now she's my prisoner but the siblings will move on after finishing school and securing jobs. I am so excited and ready for this big new chapter! I am quite busy these days pinning house ideas on Pin.terest and daydreaming about paint colors.
Tomorrow is 10 weeks since my Dad passed, both unbelievable and strange. I spend a lot of time wishing he was going to live with us too and imagining how that would be. Missing him deeply and thanking him for pushing this to happen so quickly.
February 2, 2012
my dad and my infertility
Babies weren't really on my mind prior to late October. I was focused on Halloween and while I was dreading yet another child-less holiday season, I just wasn't too preoccupied about babies and IF. My health had gone to shit again and we had dipped into our IVF savings to help fund the two ER visits in September. So, I was also focused on replacing what we took. Plus, my cardiologist put me on medication that comes with a high miscarriage rate so we weren't even able to cycle if we wanted.
Then came the news that forever changed my life and November was all about him. Don't get me wrong, I did sob over the fact that I would never see him hold my child but mainly I focused on him. When he died, a baby was the last thing on my mind and most days it still is. But, some days, the ache for a child hits me so hard that it leaves me stunned. I long to look into the eyes of my child and see something of my Dad left to remind me, to comfort me. Which, considering the azoo, makes a biological child unlikely. But it's still there, the want for a child that looks like me, like my Dad. I know it's all wrapped up and intertwined right now since his loss is so fresh. I know I am perfectly happy with adoption. But oh man does my heart beg for a piece of my Dad. A tangible part of the incredible man whom I adored. Who taught me what it is to be this strong, feisty and independent person I am. A man who was taken from me too soon.
The days I want a baby are usually after a really difficult day for me. The days were it's a challenge to get dressed and be normal, when the tears are frequent and the memories overwhelming. There are few comforts and fewer distraction on those days, those are the days I just want my Dad. I want to drive up to his house and see him sitting outside. I want to walk up to him with a big smile as I say, "Hi, Dad!" while he looks up at me with his honey colored eyes, grins back and says, "Hey, Amanda." I want that so badly. Just as badly as I want to have my child.
Grieving while struggling with infertility is an odd combo, on one hand I'm familiar with the grieving associated with IF but on the other hand, this grief is so very different. Up until this, IF was the worst thing that had ever happened to me but now it pales in comparison to burying my Dad. IF doesn't seem so scary now and I don't really worry or obsess over it anymore. I know this can all change the further I get in my grief and I know it can all change after we actually start towards getting our baby but right now this is what it is.
I keep wishing I could go back in time to a year ago. Hug my Dad tighter, tell him constantly I love him and how special he is to me, never leave Texas so I could spend hours just soaking him up...and mainly, I would run, not walk, to my IVF clinic and see him hold my newborn.
Then came the news that forever changed my life and November was all about him. Don't get me wrong, I did sob over the fact that I would never see him hold my child but mainly I focused on him. When he died, a baby was the last thing on my mind and most days it still is. But, some days, the ache for a child hits me so hard that it leaves me stunned. I long to look into the eyes of my child and see something of my Dad left to remind me, to comfort me. Which, considering the azoo, makes a biological child unlikely. But it's still there, the want for a child that looks like me, like my Dad. I know it's all wrapped up and intertwined right now since his loss is so fresh. I know I am perfectly happy with adoption. But oh man does my heart beg for a piece of my Dad. A tangible part of the incredible man whom I adored. Who taught me what it is to be this strong, feisty and independent person I am. A man who was taken from me too soon.
The days I want a baby are usually after a really difficult day for me. The days were it's a challenge to get dressed and be normal, when the tears are frequent and the memories overwhelming. There are few comforts and fewer distraction on those days, those are the days I just want my Dad. I want to drive up to his house and see him sitting outside. I want to walk up to him with a big smile as I say, "Hi, Dad!" while he looks up at me with his honey colored eyes, grins back and says, "Hey, Amanda." I want that so badly. Just as badly as I want to have my child.
Grieving while struggling with infertility is an odd combo, on one hand I'm familiar with the grieving associated with IF but on the other hand, this grief is so very different. Up until this, IF was the worst thing that had ever happened to me but now it pales in comparison to burying my Dad. IF doesn't seem so scary now and I don't really worry or obsess over it anymore. I know this can all change the further I get in my grief and I know it can all change after we actually start towards getting our baby but right now this is what it is.
I keep wishing I could go back in time to a year ago. Hug my Dad tighter, tell him constantly I love him and how special he is to me, never leave Texas so I could spend hours just soaking him up...and mainly, I would run, not walk, to my IVF clinic and see him hold my newborn.
January 8, 2012
dear dad
Starting the new year without you was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It was the last year of your life, the last year you and I shared and will ever share again. I cried a little after the clock struck midnight and throughout the day on January 1st. Only, then, I cried for multiple reasons- because your wedding anniversary with Mom is coming up, little brother's birthday and well, mine too. I was already blah about turning 29, this just makes it all that much more worse. C is taking me out of town to celebrate, we're going to Nashville. I'm excited but I'm sure I'll be wishing you were with us every moment. You loved country music and I think that's why I picked that particular destination.
I know you probably hear me talking to you all the time. It's very relieving to talk to you, even if you can't respond. I like feeling you with me everywhere too, I just feel so very loved by you. It's weird because I literally get this warm feeling in my heart and I just *know* it's you. You're with me and I love that so much. I'm going to enjoy taking you along on my journey and knowing you are up there praying for me, guiding me and looking out for me is amazing. But, still, I long for a hug, to hear you laugh and to just be around the man who fathered me and shaped me into who I am.
I've learned to make my grief into a faucet of sorts. I turn it off a lot and when I barely turn it on, it gushes and gushes out. Like tonight, I opened it without meaning to and cried and cried. Watched the slide show of you and cried some more. Of course, now I can't sleep but my sleep habits suck these days anyway. One of the main thoughts that is on repeat in my mind is that I just want to run to you and curl up next to you while you comfort me, while you explain this to me in a way that doesn't completely break my heart. I just want to be with you, with my Daddy, the strong protector you always were to me. I miss you.
In my daily talks with you, I spend a lot of time reminiscing about everything. Laughing and smiling at the memories, which everyone keeps telling me to cherish. And I do, so much and they're wonderful. But they don't compare to the actual man. Never will.
love & miss you
I know you probably hear me talking to you all the time. It's very relieving to talk to you, even if you can't respond. I like feeling you with me everywhere too, I just feel so very loved by you. It's weird because I literally get this warm feeling in my heart and I just *know* it's you. You're with me and I love that so much. I'm going to enjoy taking you along on my journey and knowing you are up there praying for me, guiding me and looking out for me is amazing. But, still, I long for a hug, to hear you laugh and to just be around the man who fathered me and shaped me into who I am.
I've learned to make my grief into a faucet of sorts. I turn it off a lot and when I barely turn it on, it gushes and gushes out. Like tonight, I opened it without meaning to and cried and cried. Watched the slide show of you and cried some more. Of course, now I can't sleep but my sleep habits suck these days anyway. One of the main thoughts that is on repeat in my mind is that I just want to run to you and curl up next to you while you comfort me, while you explain this to me in a way that doesn't completely break my heart. I just want to be with you, with my Daddy, the strong protector you always were to me. I miss you.
In my daily talks with you, I spend a lot of time reminiscing about everything. Laughing and smiling at the memories, which everyone keeps telling me to cherish. And I do, so much and they're wonderful. But they don't compare to the actual man. Never will.
love & miss you
December 28, 2011
stages of grief
It took three weeks to hit me that he's really gone. Up until then, I'd see his picture and my stomach would clench and the first thought in my mind would be that it's impossible, there's no way he's really gone. I kept asking C why it didn't seem real to me. I mean, he died in front of my eyes, I saw him in his coffin and watched him be buried...but it still hadn't sunk in. I finally realized I was in denial and when I woke up Friday, exactly three weeks later, it hit me. I've been a zombie since, crying a lot more and very withdrawn from the world. I keep my phone on silence, ignore texts, avoid FB and twitter and don't really leave my house. I'm a hermit that cries at the oddest moments and I never can predict what will set me off.
I saw my primary care doctor last week and he prescribed me Am.bien and told me what I'm going through is totally normal so he left my dosage of anti-depressants alone. I had high hopes for the Am.bien but it doesn't seem to be working, I still can't sleep and have horrible nightmares when I finally do. Accepting this shit isn't doing me any better than the denial was. But at least I know I'm grieving "normally", I even googled it just to be sure. C keeps reassuring me that I am normal too, man do I love that man. He's strong for me so that I don't have to be and doesn't bat an eye that the house is a mess and I don't cook anymore (I'd kick his ass if he did, btw)
We went home for Christmas and it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be, although it was very close. I mainly stayed with my family and never did the gift exchange with my ILs, couldn't bear it. Christmas morning one of my aunts on my Mom's side had a stroke so that just added to the general shitfest that 2011 has been. Can't wait to get this year behind me for good. Her prognosis is still very touchy, I pray and pray she recovers. Can't lose her and can't bear another death.
I miss my Dad so much it hurts to breathe. I feel his absence is every damn moment but I also feel his love and that my friends, gets me through this. One day at a time, one awful hour to the next.
[thank you with all my heart for the thoughts and prayers throughout this whole ordeal and for reading along, means the world to me]
I saw my primary care doctor last week and he prescribed me Am.bien and told me what I'm going through is totally normal so he left my dosage of anti-depressants alone. I had high hopes for the Am.bien but it doesn't seem to be working, I still can't sleep and have horrible nightmares when I finally do. Accepting this shit isn't doing me any better than the denial was. But at least I know I'm grieving "normally", I even googled it just to be sure. C keeps reassuring me that I am normal too, man do I love that man. He's strong for me so that I don't have to be and doesn't bat an eye that the house is a mess and I don't cook anymore (I'd kick his ass if he did, btw)
We went home for Christmas and it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be, although it was very close. I mainly stayed with my family and never did the gift exchange with my ILs, couldn't bear it. Christmas morning one of my aunts on my Mom's side had a stroke so that just added to the general shitfest that 2011 has been. Can't wait to get this year behind me for good. Her prognosis is still very touchy, I pray and pray she recovers. Can't lose her and can't bear another death.
I miss my Dad so much it hurts to breathe. I feel his absence is every damn moment but I also feel his love and that my friends, gets me through this. One day at a time, one awful hour to the next.
[thank you with all my heart for the thoughts and prayers throughout this whole ordeal and for reading along, means the world to me]
December 20, 2011
a blue christmas
I want this all to be a bad dream. I want to sleep until January 1st. I want to run screaming to a tropical beach and get very, very drunk. I know none of this is possible so instead I shop for presents, wrap them, listen to Christmas music and send out a couple of cards to good friends. My heart just isn't into it this year, barely decorated a little 3 foot tree we bought instead of dragging our big one out. Heading back home soon to get the hardest Christmas ever over.
I clearly underestimated grieving. It's kicking my ass and leaving me whimpering on the floor in the fetal position. My house is a disaster, the laundry piled high and I've lost 12lbs because I just forget to eat or have no appetite. I wouldn't remember to shower but I hate having greasy hair and unshaved legs so I manage that at least. Needless to say, I'm taking this pretty hard.
I feel irrevocably changed, like a piece of me is forever gone. The one thought that keeps popping up is that I feel untethered, like I am only half stuck to this place. My Dad's gone so his string broke but my Mom's keeps me attached, I'm half untethered. It's a disconcerting feeling, a lost feeling. Some days I don't cry a single drop and he doesn't occupy my every thought but some days, I sob and sob and replay memories in my head over and over. It's funny but I'll forget and briefly freak out that I haven't bought him a Christmas present yet or called to check on him that day, I find myself talking about him and making plans for him like he's still here. Then, like a jolt, I remember and oh that sinking feeling sucks ass.
I never imagined losing a parent could fundamentally change a person. But it has, I know in my heart that I will never be the same. Yes, life will go on and I will eventually stop the hardcore grieving but it will always be different now, I will always be different now. I will always mourn him, miss him, long to see him just one more time. I will learn to live with this but I will never be who I was. Eventually the nightmares will stop and I won't be scared of driving or large crowds (all irrational, I know), it'll get easier.
I both look forward to that day and dread it. Just like I dread turning 55 and outliving him and I dread the day he's been gone 29 years- longer than I had him here as my Dad. But I also look forward to it, to taking him with me on my journey, knowing he's guiding me and praying for me. He's safe, happy and healthy again, I love that. I just hate it for me.
I clearly underestimated grieving. It's kicking my ass and leaving me whimpering on the floor in the fetal position. My house is a disaster, the laundry piled high and I've lost 12lbs because I just forget to eat or have no appetite. I wouldn't remember to shower but I hate having greasy hair and unshaved legs so I manage that at least. Needless to say, I'm taking this pretty hard.
I feel irrevocably changed, like a piece of me is forever gone. The one thought that keeps popping up is that I feel untethered, like I am only half stuck to this place. My Dad's gone so his string broke but my Mom's keeps me attached, I'm half untethered. It's a disconcerting feeling, a lost feeling. Some days I don't cry a single drop and he doesn't occupy my every thought but some days, I sob and sob and replay memories in my head over and over. It's funny but I'll forget and briefly freak out that I haven't bought him a Christmas present yet or called to check on him that day, I find myself talking about him and making plans for him like he's still here. Then, like a jolt, I remember and oh that sinking feeling sucks ass.
I never imagined losing a parent could fundamentally change a person. But it has, I know in my heart that I will never be the same. Yes, life will go on and I will eventually stop the hardcore grieving but it will always be different now, I will always be different now. I will always mourn him, miss him, long to see him just one more time. I will learn to live with this but I will never be who I was. Eventually the nightmares will stop and I won't be scared of driving or large crowds (all irrational, I know), it'll get easier.
I both look forward to that day and dread it. Just like I dread turning 55 and outliving him and I dread the day he's been gone 29 years- longer than I had him here as my Dad. But I also look forward to it, to taking him with me on my journey, knowing he's guiding me and praying for me. He's safe, happy and healthy again, I love that. I just hate it for me.
December 12, 2011
the aftermath
He passed away December 2, 2011 at 2:30am. He'd been comatose that whole week, looking back, I see how I ignored the clues that Thursday was probably going to be his last day, I just couldn't believe it. I administered his pain meds at 1:30am and was in the living room watching tv when my big brother came and got me bc our Dad's breathing had changed. My Mom, little brother and I were in the room with him, chatting when I looked over and noticed he'd stopped breathing. I jumped up, got my other brother and sister and we surrounded the bed, touching him and calling out I love you, when he quietly took his last breath and was gone. It was the most surreal moment of my life. How honored I am to have been there when that wonderful man left this world.
The day he died and the following days planning and attending the funeral are just a blur to me. Almost like a horrible dream that I floated through. C got me through it all, he really is incredible. I have only had a couple of absolute breakdown-sobbing uncontrollably moments. The first wasn't when he died but when the funeral home took him out on a stretcher. My mind was screaming, "Please don't take him! Leave him with us!" and I was so upset that never again would we see him in the house, this was it. I just sobbed in C's arms until I sent him to walk my Dad out and watch him leave.
C, my SIL and I planned the best funeral for him. Country music played during the visitation, there was a slide show of pictures before the Rosary started and we played his two favorite songs at the cemetery. Pictures were everywhere at the funeral home, his cowboy hat perched on the edge of the coffin, his canes standing nearby, baseballs from my brother and two nephews in the coffin, along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket. It was perfect and the best way to send him off. I know he loved it. It was truly my honor and privilege to help care for him. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, although I'd wish I wouldn't have to, because watching a loved one waste away and die from cancer is hell on earth.
C and I are back in AR now, going home for Christmas and bringing my Mom back to stay for a while. I didn't know grieving for him would be like this. Empty, lonely and just crushing to my soul. I can't handle crowds, stores or driving. No appetite, so I've lost ten pounds, which I ironically laugh at bc I've been dieting for so long to no avail. Anyway, ever been in a room that is suddenly plunged into darkness? And you fumble around looking for light, so disoriented, with your arms stretched out searching for something, anything to help but there's nothing. Yeah, that is what it feels like when you lose a parent. I feel half untethered and lost. My precious Dad is gone and while I am so happy he's now pain free and in Heaven with our Lord, I am so sad for me, my Mom, my siblings, my nephews and nieces.
Happy for him, sad for me...because I just miss him so fucking much. Devastated because the missing him only grows daily and will for the rest of my life.
The day he died and the following days planning and attending the funeral are just a blur to me. Almost like a horrible dream that I floated through. C got me through it all, he really is incredible. I have only had a couple of absolute breakdown-sobbing uncontrollably moments. The first wasn't when he died but when the funeral home took him out on a stretcher. My mind was screaming, "Please don't take him! Leave him with us!" and I was so upset that never again would we see him in the house, this was it. I just sobbed in C's arms until I sent him to walk my Dad out and watch him leave.
C, my SIL and I planned the best funeral for him. Country music played during the visitation, there was a slide show of pictures before the Rosary started and we played his two favorite songs at the cemetery. Pictures were everywhere at the funeral home, his cowboy hat perched on the edge of the coffin, his canes standing nearby, baseballs from my brother and two nephews in the coffin, along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket. It was perfect and the best way to send him off. I know he loved it. It was truly my honor and privilege to help care for him. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, although I'd wish I wouldn't have to, because watching a loved one waste away and die from cancer is hell on earth.
C and I are back in AR now, going home for Christmas and bringing my Mom back to stay for a while. I didn't know grieving for him would be like this. Empty, lonely and just crushing to my soul. I can't handle crowds, stores or driving. No appetite, so I've lost ten pounds, which I ironically laugh at bc I've been dieting for so long to no avail. Anyway, ever been in a room that is suddenly plunged into darkness? And you fumble around looking for light, so disoriented, with your arms stretched out searching for something, anything to help but there's nothing. Yeah, that is what it feels like when you lose a parent. I feel half untethered and lost. My precious Dad is gone and while I am so happy he's now pain free and in Heaven with our Lord, I am so sad for me, my Mom, my siblings, my nephews and nieces.
Happy for him, sad for me...because I just miss him so fucking much. Devastated because the missing him only grows daily and will for the rest of my life.
December 2, 2011
he's gone
The best Daddy a girl could ask for passed away after a very brave battle with colon cancer. He truly lit up a room when he walked into it and always was quick to smile and laugh. I am who I am because of him and I can't thank him enough for being my Dad. It's been my honor and privilege to care for him. And while I know he's in a better place and no longer in pain, it doesn't soothe the worst part of it all, having to live the rest of my life without him.
November 19, 2011
Dear Dad,
It's often late at night that this ball of anxiety and nervousness takes up residence in my chest, I almost can't breathe from the pressure. Then it turns into restlessness, which causes me to drive mindlessly around until I feel ok enough to maybe sleep. I hate leaving you but sometimes, I just have to get out of here. I know you understand, you are the same way. Getting the hell out of dodge is sometimes the best solution to a problem. It's also at night that I try to imagine your funeral and what it will be like. Will anyone attend? Will anyone send flowers? How will all of us make it through? So many questions and not a single answer that makes me feel better.
Your decline is astonishing because I think we had actually convinced ourselves that you aren't dying. You've outlived the two week prediction by the hospice we fired but as we come upon the month prediction from your oncologist, I freak out a little. It seems like it might be accurate and that scares the fuck out of me. I'm sitting here right now listening to your oxygen machine, hearing it's intake and outtake makes me want to throw up because it reminds me of your time in the ICU after your stroke. I'm glad it helps you but I dread the day it doesn't. The house is full of medical equipment: a wheelchair, an oxygen tank on wheels, a nebulizer, a suction machine...visible reminders of the truth we so desperately want to ignore.
The past couple of days have been a sharp decline. You stare blankly a lot and rarely respond to us unless you nod for more pain medicine. You're too weak to cough up normal saliva and can barely sip water. I hate it. I hate it for you because I can see it in your eyes that you aren't ready for any of this, you don't want to leave us. You hate that this is what your life is like now, that this is how you are dying. I see it and I wish I could make it all better for you. I promise that Heaven will be amazing, you won't hurt or be sad. I hear it's paradise and that you feel nothing but peace, joy, and love. I know you will be thrilled to be with Grandpa again and your uncle and your own grandparents too. I know you'll be able to run and play baseball again, hear Elvis give a concert, and float on a cloud. Believe it or not, that is actually comforting to me.
But, I also know that you will miss us. Because we will be missing you so incredibly much too. I also know that your love for us won't stop because neither will our love for you. I know we'll see you again one day and that you'll have the biggest grin to greet us when we get to Heaven. I just wish you didn't have to go yet. I wish that you could stay and continue loving us here. I'd give anything for that, anything.
I just have one request, when you get to Heaven, can you ask God to send C and me a baby?
Your decline is astonishing because I think we had actually convinced ourselves that you aren't dying. You've outlived the two week prediction by the hospice we fired but as we come upon the month prediction from your oncologist, I freak out a little. It seems like it might be accurate and that scares the fuck out of me. I'm sitting here right now listening to your oxygen machine, hearing it's intake and outtake makes me want to throw up because it reminds me of your time in the ICU after your stroke. I'm glad it helps you but I dread the day it doesn't. The house is full of medical equipment: a wheelchair, an oxygen tank on wheels, a nebulizer, a suction machine...visible reminders of the truth we so desperately want to ignore.
The past couple of days have been a sharp decline. You stare blankly a lot and rarely respond to us unless you nod for more pain medicine. You're too weak to cough up normal saliva and can barely sip water. I hate it. I hate it for you because I can see it in your eyes that you aren't ready for any of this, you don't want to leave us. You hate that this is what your life is like now, that this is how you are dying. I see it and I wish I could make it all better for you. I promise that Heaven will be amazing, you won't hurt or be sad. I hear it's paradise and that you feel nothing but peace, joy, and love. I know you will be thrilled to be with Grandpa again and your uncle and your own grandparents too. I know you'll be able to run and play baseball again, hear Elvis give a concert, and float on a cloud. Believe it or not, that is actually comforting to me.
But, I also know that you will miss us. Because we will be missing you so incredibly much too. I also know that your love for us won't stop because neither will our love for you. I know we'll see you again one day and that you'll have the biggest grin to greet us when we get to Heaven. I just wish you didn't have to go yet. I wish that you could stay and continue loving us here. I'd give anything for that, anything.
I just have one request, when you get to Heaven, can you ask God to send C and me a baby?
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