Thanksgiving...

I have written half a dozen blog posts in my head in the last month or so but none of them have made it past that initial stage in my head. There are so many things I want to share but am not sure I really want to put it out there. So for today I'll focus on the "holiday season" without my Dad.

I love the holidays.  I LOVE Thanksgiving.  I miss my Dad.  I know it will be hard for me to be around all of my family and know something is missing.  One of the other wrenches (so to speak) is that this is such an amazing and fun time with Christian.  He has his eyes wide open to so many new things and three years old is just so much fun.  I don't want anything to mar this holiday for him and it is my responsibility to pull it together for him so that doesn't happen. 

Holidays are a big deal in my family.  For Thanksgiving we still spend it with my extended family and there are so many people who are there with us.  All of my aunts, uncles and cousins and even some stragglers who have no where else to go.  For Christmas my parents always did a big dinner on Christmas Eve and we opened our presents.  It is one of my favorite nights of the year.  I will miss my Dad every day between now and that night and beyond. 

Finding the balance between grief and joy is always a problem for me.  Feeling in one moment like my life is so blessed and then feeling the pain and loss of my Dad being gone just feels so odd to me.  How will I ever become comfortable with that?

My final words

I haven't shared the words of my eulogy on here and really wanted to do so.  I adore the life I had with my Dad and could have written pages and pages about what he did for me from the time of my birth to the time of his death.  I narrowed it down to a few key points. 

My Dad never met a stranger. If you were a friend of a friend – you were his friend.  If you were his friend, you belonged in his family.  He didn’t have the best example of how to be a family or how to be a father but even without that example, he was the most amazing Dad I could have hoped for.  The one thing we all wanted to get across about him was that his family was his life and his life was his family.

I could tell you a thousand stories about my Dad and examples of how he loved us.  He was our soccer coach and our softball coach.  He served on our school board, voted in a by a church he wasn’t even qualified to be a member of.  He drove us to swim lessons, tennis lessons and school.  He brushed our hair and put it in ponytails.  He chaperoned our school dances and field trips.  He knew our friends and their parents.  He would be the first to push us harder or console us if we lost.  He buried us in the sand at the beach and drug us around Disneyland, even when he wasn’t feeling well.  He encouraged us to dream about our future and then helped us come up with a plan to achieve that dream.  He stood beside us during the most important days of our lives.  He held our children and became to them a Grandfather who, if possible, loved them as much as we do.  He told us constantly how proud he was of us, how much he loved us and how important family was. At this time, more than any other, I know how much those lessons mean to me. 

My Dad’s generous spirit was his most amazing quality.  He would give you the moon if he thought you needed it.  He gave to me more than I can ever thank him for.  “Whatever you need.” That was his favorite thing to say.  He never put limits on his generosity, even when he should have. I hope he knew how much his generosity was appreciated.  I remember a few years ago I started a new job and was so anxious about what I would do at lunch time because I didn’t know anyone.  For three days in a row he drove to my office and met me for lunch.  He never questioned why I was so nervous or told me I was being ridiculous.  He just came when I called and told me he’d keep doing it for as long as I needed. 

Years ago my Mom made a cross stitch that said something like this, “Parents who are lucky in their children, have children who are lucky in their parents.”  Today I smile because I am one of the three luckiest people in this room.  I cry because the man that made me feel so lucky, is now gone.  Bobby, Heather and I are so blessed to be able to say that we were raised by a man who adored us and truly enjoyed us.  It’s no secret to most that I am my Father’s daughter.  He and I share the same sense of humor and the same ability to talk the ear off of a deaf man.  I hope and pray I also am as compassionate, kind and selfless as he was.  The greatest lessons I ever learned, I learned from him.  The greatest gift I can give my Dad now is to take all of these lessons and make him proud.  I promise you Dad, I will make you proud.  I will miss you as long as I live. 

floating back in

It's been a while since my last entry in my blog.  It's not that I don't have anything to write about.  It's actually that I have too much and don't know where to start.  So much has happened the last couple of months, some good and some bad.  I'll save the specifics for specific posts because it really just is too much to summarize in one post.  Rest assured, I'll get to it all!

Lately I feel like I've been hanging on to a lot of anger and sadness.  I am the kind of person who hates to hold a grudge but also can't resolve my own feelings and pain.  It's a tough thing to balance.  I am certainly not in favor of doing it my way, I just don't know how to let it all go, forgive and forget. 

When my Dad died we had so many amazing people step up to help us out.  As soon as my extended family found out he died, they came running.  We weren't at my parents house for more than 30 minutes before my aunts, uncles and cousins came to be with us.  It wasn't long before my parents close friends joined us as well. For hours these people sat by us as we waited for the funeral home to come to pick up my Dad.  They paced with us, cried with us and supported us. 

In the days after my Dad died my Mom's house was overflowing with activity.  We received flowers, cards, visitors and more support.  There were phone calls with inquiries to help and so much support came to us from those we love.  We were so blessed to have those people stand beside us during those very difficult days.  I wish I could only focus on those people.

What I can't stop thinking about it the two people in my family that have still, to this day not said one word in regards to my Dad's death.  I have two cousins who have not even reached out to say they were sorry my Dad died.  Neither attended his funeral, one lives out of state and obviously couldn't attend.  The other never called or responded to my calls so I don't know why she didn't come to the funeral.

I kept thinking that we'd here from them and to some extent I still think that.  I think it's crazy that they can't see how much this would hurt us to not have them reach out.  It's astonishing to think that my Dad meant so little to them.  I know people will say that sometimes people don't know what to say or what to do.  My argument is this - that is fucking ridiculous!  You say SOMETHING.  You don't say nothing.  You don't ignore the situation.  It's ridiculous to think that you wouldn't send a card, make a call or send a TEXT message for crying in the night.  Even before this happened to me I knew that.

I want to be able to move past this but for me it's hard.  I just don't think I'll ever be able to look at the two of them the same.  I'll never be able to trust them with my feelings or my friendship.  What I really want might not happen.  I really want them to tell me they are sorry for my pain and that they feel the loss as well.  I won't expect that will happen, now or ever.

Ultimately we received so much love from people during this difficult time.  It still continues to pour in.  I still have people ask me how I am doing and have people reach out to support me.  I am so blessed.  I don't want to focus on those that didn't do anything when I can focus on all of those that did so much. 

therapy...

Well, I did it.  I decided to reach out and admit defeat.  Well, partial defeat.  I could feel my level of anxiety and depression increasing and my ability to cope was decreasing.  Rather than let the CRAPPY feeling continue without a fight, I called a therapist and made an appointment. 

I don't really think that going to therapy is defeat. I work in the behavioral health field for crying out loud.  For me though, I felt like I didn't want to admit I couldn't deal with it alone.  The problem was, it wasn't just my Dad's death.  It has become an inability to deal with the person my Mom has become and not being able to help her cope/deal/mourn/live.  I also work full time, am a wife and a mother and want to do it ALL and do it well. 

I noticed things were getting bad when I would feel so anxious on Sunday evenings about having to go to work and thinking SERIOUSLY about quitting my good paying job.  I have always loved working and have loved being a productive, working member of society.  I enjoyed working after becoming a Mom and have always wanted to continue.  So, feeling like work was a noose around my neck was scary to me.  I then recognized that I could feel the anxiety a lot more than I wanted to believe.  It's not a scared or nervous feeling as much as it is a pit in my stomach.  It's an inability to get a full and deep breath.

My first appointment was full of Ah Ha moments!  At one point the therapist said to me, "Have you ever been depressed."  I replied No, of course not. She said, "You are depressed now".  Oh.  Oh, I see.  I guess you're right.  I am.  Ahhhhhh!! 

The therapist recommended medication for the anxiety and I politely declined that entry on any service plan.  See, I took valium once and I absolutely adored it.  I mean, hold hands and skip through the park in love - adored it!  I come from a family who tends to over imbibe in substances and I don't want to take that path.  I have a fear that I would grow to need that medication more than I should. So, I made a deal to take some homeopathic medication, try some methods to relax (yoga, reiki are two of my ideas) and continue talk therapy. 

So, I have made a committment to myself to work through this and accept some help!  I feel better about having relinquished some of the control and allowing someone to help me.  I look forward to the journey of wellness. 

Better?

It's been a while since I've felt the urge to blog.  Maybe I feel better?  Probably a bit but more than that, it's just been hard to put into words how I feel.  Lately I feel like the hardest thing I do is balance my own grief with the grief my Mom feels. 

My parents were married for 40 years.  My Mom was only 18 when they got married.  She has never really lived without my Dad.  The marriage they had was no where near perfect but it really was a true partnership.  In the 40 years they were married, my Mom never had to make a decision by herself.  Now, there are several big decisions she needs to make and this paralyzes her.  She needs the help of myself and my siblings.  We are more than willing to help.  We want my Mom to be happy and find some peace in her life. 

When my Mom calls me in tears I immediately feel sick to my stomach and the sadness falls over me.  I begin to worry so much about her and whether or not she'll ever feel joy in her life.  I know some will say I have to not worry so much but it is impossible.  Part of dealing with the death of a loved one is hoping everyone comes out on the other side with peace.  It's not just about me, it's about us. 

The goal for me is learning how to comfort and support my Mom while still comforting myself.  It's a constant battle and it's one I rarely win.  I will keep trying and keep striving to be supportive while still taking time to take care of myself.  I'm actually considering some therapy.  I tried a psychic (story for another day) and realized it might be good for me to spend some time talking about how I feel.  It's important for me to honor the memory of my Dad by being a good mother, wife, daughter, sister and aunt. 

Conflicting emotions

I write this blog with the evening news playing in the background, dinner in the oven and my son reading to himself on the couch.  We are all still damp from our afternoon dip in our backyard pool.  Life feels OK right now. 

While we floated in the pool this afternoon, the sun beating down on us, I felt so complete and at peace.  At one point my husband and I were holding my son who had his head laid alternately on my shoulder and then my husbands.  I thought, "these are the best days of my life'.  Then I thought that seems so weird.  How can I feel so at peace in one moment and so depressed and lost in the next.

I recognize that feelings are not mutually exclusive.  I can feel all of these and feel them completely and fully.  It feels wild to me though to feel like I'd never want to be anywhere else and then want to close my eyes and turn back the clock.  The horrible thing is, if I go back I lose and gain so much.  And you can't go back anyway... right?? 

Father's Day

Today is the first Father's Day I cannot call my Dad to say Happy Father's Day.  I threw it out there in the universe this morning, hoping he heard me or felt me.  I feel a bit sad and very nostalgic today.  I am remembering all of the things that made my Dad so very special to me. 

My Dad was hilarious.  So funny.  I always felt like he was the funniest person I knew.  He had the quickest wit and a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor.  I like to think I get my sense of humor from him.  He and I were for sure, the most alike.  I can remember being a little girl and laughing so hard and some of my Dad's jokes.  I felt so proud to have a funny man for my Dad.

My Dad was not your typical Dad.  When I was growing up and went to my houses of friends, there Dad's were so different from mine.  My Dad cooked, cleaned, did laundry and all of the other things that weren't typical "Dad" duties.  I didn't grow up in a house that followed the typical gender roles.  My parents both worked and both took care of the house responsibilities.  They also both took equal responsibility of us kids. 

My Dad was a PROUD Father of his three kids.  He never missed a sporting event or school event if he could help it.  When we were older he worked in sales and worked into the evenings but he tried really hard, even then, to come to our games or school events.  If he couldn't make it he always asked about it and told us how proud he was of us.  He was out of work when my sister was playing volleyball in her senior year.  He went to every game and video taped them all.  He was so proud of her!!  He bragged about us to other people, just loud enough so we could hear him!

My Dad was a devoted Grandfather to all of our children.  From my niece, who is nineteen to the newest Brown baby, Caleb, my Dad was so excited about all of his Grandkids!  He held them, rocked them, played with them, talked to them and loved them.  In the last year he wasn't working and went to so many of my nephew Robert's football, basketball and baseball games.  He helped my Brother with my nephew Jacob's basketball team and tried to spend time with all of the other kids.  His eyes would light up when the kids entered the room. 

My Dad wanted to help all of us make our lives easier.  When my husband and I moved into our house after we returned to Arizona, we started some renovations.  My Dad offered to be here daily to help oversee the operation while we worked.  He also did some of the work for us and coordinated many of our efforts in making our new house our home.  He helped with everything from painting to pulling up tile to staying on top of our crew installing the new tile in our house.  We couldn't have done it without him!!

My Dad had high expectations of us and wanted us to be productive adults.  He pushed us hard when we were growing up.  He always expected we'd give 100% to whatever we did - and we tried.  He was plugged into our lives enough that he knew what was expected at school and we couldn't really bull shit him.  He attended parent teacher conferences and signed report cards.  There was never a "wait until your Father hears this" because he always seemed to know already!! 

My Dad was an amazing Dad and I miss him terribly. 

All better?

My husband, son and I recently returned from a trip to Orlando, FL.  This was our first REAL family vacation.  It was the first real vacation my husband and I took in almost four years.  In the last four years all of our time and money brought us to Arizona from PA to visit with family.  As nice as that was, I missed taking trips where we have no obligations and can just have fun!! 

This trip was certainly fun.  We took our son to Sea World, Kennedy Space Center and Cocoa Beach.  We also swam in the resort pools and enjoyed some quiet and relaxing moments.  It was awesome to see my son run all over these places in awe of what he was seeing.  He was such a good boy the whole week and was pretty well behaved.  All in all, it was a great time and so nice to get away. 

The thing is, I put all my eggs in this vacation basket.  I created this expectation in my mind that this trip was that which was going to heal my broken heart.  Surely I'd feel much better when I returned.  Well, I do feel better.  I feel well rested and a bit lighter.  The problem is, my heart is still broken.  Hindsight being what it is, I get it.  I can't believe I thought it would do all that.  My Dad is still gone and I'm still sad.  I still feel so broken and anxious about the future. 

I try so hard to think of what happened to my family and to my Dad in really common sense ways.  He died.  People die.  I'm 37, not seven!  I had my Dad for years.  Then I remember he was only 59 and died all alone and didn't have to go so young.  I can't reconcile these.  I think it's time for me to consider reaching out to someone to process all of this.  I'm not sure I want to but I spend so many days feeling so sad and I just can't imagine this continuing. 

We have a plan to take my son to the beach at the end of the summer.  I'm going to look forward to that for what it is; a week at the beach! 

Lessons I've learned

In the nine weeks and two days since my Dad died (who's counting, right?) I've learned many lessons.  Some I'm grateful for and some not so grateful for.  I won't break them all down right here but rest assured, most of them will come out in future blogs. 

The one lesson that is slowly taking form is that not everything is black and white. Where there is grief and sadness there is so much gray.  You hear people say all the time, "don't fight with so and so, time is precious" or "be careful what you do/say/feel because life is short".  The problem is, our relationships aren't so easily defined. 

The ups and downs we go through with those we love are what actually forms the relationships.  The fights I had with my Dad made the love we shared so much more real.  It was only in our struggle to please each other or set boundaries that we learned to communicate.  If we'd never screamed and yelled at each other we'd never have known that it hurts to hurt someone you love. If I never though to myself "he doesn't understand me" then I'd never have known how much he struggled to understand me.  I mean, who understands teenage girls anyway??

My point is, I can't bring back those moments we were upset with each other and I can't take back the times I told him how angry I was with him.  The great thing is, I can relish in the moments he told me he was proud of me or loved me or wanted more for me.  If my Dad was here right now, I wouldn't waste time focusing on the negatives so why spend time after his death thinking about those things? 

I try to live my life without regrets and realize that the negative things shape my character just like the positive.  I don't ask for many do overs.  This one is hard.  I'd pretty much do anything to have my Dad here with me.  If I thought it possible, I'd bargain with God and make a deal no one could refuse.  I know that his death will be a monumental moment in my life that will make me stronger.  It's just hard to see that through the tears.  What I won't do is kick myself for having ever told him I was angry or he didn't understand me.  Those were necessary and it's OK.  You really can't go back but you also don't need to go back!

Divine Intervention

Recently I went to Las Vegas with my very good friend for a weekend of relaxation and fun.  Right before I left on my trip I had a conversation with my Mom.  My Mom was in a really bad place and very tearful on the phone.  Although she called again the next morning to tell me to have fun and tell me she loved me, I still left very worried about her and hoping/praying she’d be OK.  As much as I tried, I carried a bit of that worry with me through the weekend.  

On our last night in Vegas we sat in the hot tub having a drink and were joined by two older women.  They asked us where we were from and we shared just a bit of our back story.  You know, two stressed out women who need a weekend of debauchery in Vegas… that story!  The ladies then shared with us their story.  It was a bit different than ours.  They have been friends for years.  Both are widowed and enjoy traveling together.  They told us about their trip and the activities they’d done while in Las Vegas.  I told them both how nice it was to see how active they are and how their lives are so full and rich.  I told them that six weeks before my Dad died and how worried I was about my Mom and hoped for her what they seem to have.  

Then… here comes the divine intervention… They both shared with me that they were widowed at 54 and 58 and felt much the same as my Mom.  One of the ladies said that her husband was my Dad’s age and she my Mom’s age when he died. They both got out of the hot tub and one of the women turned towards me and said “Honey, you tell your Mom that everything will be OK.  She’s going to be just fine. Tell her to stay active and surround herself with friends”.  They then walked away.  

As I watched those two angels walk away I got teary eyed.  I looked at my friend and said “that was divine intervention.  Those ladies were meant to meet us here tonight to deliver me that message.”  I have a true belief in a higher power.  Let’s not beat around the bush… I believe in one God and believe that He holds me in his hand during the crappy time.  Anyway… I’ve prayed daily for proof of two things, that my Dad is OK and that we are going to be OK.  I get little bits of peace here and there but it doesn’t ever really seem to be enough.  On this night, it felt like peace to me. 

Those that come calling and those that GO running!

It's been interesting for me to see how my friends have responded to my Dad's death.  There are some who are very supportive and call/e-mail/text quite often or on a regular basis to see how I am or if I need anything.  Some of these people are friends I've had for years and some I haven't seen in years.  Some are friends I am close with and some that I know in passing.  Really, it's interesting, there is no rhyme or reason.  It's nice to hear from people I haven't heard from in a while. It was surprising to receive cards from people I've not been in contact with for a while.  It was so touching!

The flip side of the coin is those that I really thought would be supportive and I don't hear from.  Even friends I consider to be close friends who don't call/e-mail/text ever.  Friends with whom I've shared many experiences and emotions with over the years of our friendships.  Friends I assumed I could always count on.  It's not that I don't feel like I can "count" on those friends but it sure does change my perspective.

Someone told me that people just don't know how to respond so some do nothing while some do everything.  I guess I could understand that.  I mean, until my Dad died, I had NO idea what it felt like to lose a parent.  Or to feel such pain.  BUT... I knew it hurt and I knew that I had to do something for friends who had lost parents and unfortunately I have quite a few friends who have lost parents.  I might not have always done the right thing but I always did something. 

I'm trying not to be ungrateful or rude but I think it's just slightly confusing for me.  I know that until you experience this you'll never know the depth of the pain.  It has changed my perspective and I will, in the future, respond in a much different way for having been through this. 

I am grateful for all of my friends and family.  Sure there are some that I wish had stepped up.  There are some that I wish had said something/anything and didn't.  The truth is while it's mostly about me, I also feel like it reflects on my Dad too and that breaks my heart.  My Dad who would do anything for anyone.  My Dad who spent his life trying to make people happy.  I wish I could separate these feelings but I'm not sure I'm there... yet. 

Well meaning

People in general really do want to say the right thing and do the right thing.  I really believe that!  And, I've said before, people will step up to love you and care for you when you really need to be loved!  I've seen this in action in the last seven weeks

What I also see is that now that it's been SEVEN WHOLE WEEKS, people are expecting something different when they deal with us.  Generally people who have lost their spouse or parent don't say anything but people who have maybe never dealt with this have rather high expectations when talking to us (My Mom, siblings) about "moving on". 

I think my Mom has heard the worst of it from others.  She's been told to "just cheer up" and to "take a walk" when she feels sad.  Her boss actually asked her if it's really that hard.  Umm, yeah, it's really that hard.  The boss aside, most people are well meaning, they just don't get it. There is no way or reason to explain it really.  When you lose someone you love it hurts.  Sometimes that hurt goes on for a while.  Some people are better equipped to deal with the pain than others. 

My Mom and I have said several times that now we know how it feels and it will change how we react to others when they go through this.  There is no way to prepare yourself for something that hurts so much and there is no way to explain to other people how deep the pain is.  It's another of life's frustrations. 

Bittersweet

Around 11 a.m. this morning my Brother called to tell me his wife is going to the hospital to be admitted and then induced.  She'll have the baby today.  It's an amazing moment for our family.  Grandchild number 8 will be here for us to love and to be a part of the family we all treasure. 

It's hard not to remember that my Dad is missing this.  He absolutely adored each one of his grandchildren.  I like to say that my parents came alive when my niece was born (almost) nineteen years ago!  Because they had children so young and life was at times a bit of a struggle, sometimes the joy of parenting was lost.  But with their grandchildren there was no joy lost for them ever.  They doted on them from the moment they were born.  In my eulogy I mention that my Dad loved our kids as much as we did! 

I know that he would be pacing the hospital floor right now.  He'd be on the phone giving updates and begging my brother to let him help in someway.  He was at the hospital for almost all of the births of his grandchildren and this would be no different.  I know that he is with us in spirit and although I'm not ready to accept that he'll only ever be here in spirit, I have to accept it today. 

So we wait for word from my brother that the baby is coming soon and we anticipate how are family will change... for the better!  Today is bittersweet but definitely more sweet than bitter!

Road trip!

Chris and I brought Christian to Albuquerque this weekend for a short getaway.  We both like to try get out of town as often as possible and I've been really looking for a reason to escape for a bit now!  We arrived in ABQ and I felt a bit out of sorts.  I kept feeling like there was something I was supposed to be doing.  Then I thought about what it was... I needed to call my Dad. 

Ever since I started traveling I have been calling my Dad right before and immediately after my trips.  I did this even when we lived in PA.  I'd call him a day or two before we headed out of town to let him know we were going.  He'd remember that we had a trip planned and ask me what our plans were, where we were staying and when we'd be back. He always ended the conversation the same way.  "Have fun and be careful".  ALWAYS!!  Sometimes he'd also have tidbits about the place we were going.  If he'd been there before he'd tell me about a restaurant, tour or bar we had to try.  If he hadn't he would tell me what he'd heard about that place. 

He'd also share with me what the weather was supposed to be like in the city we were traveling to and the city we were leaving.  He'd remind me to take a coat, a hat or an umbrella and to be glad we were going because a heat wave was coming and we'd miss it!  He was fascinated with weather.  While I lived in PA he would keep track of the weather in Scranton for me too.  He'd send me e-mails to let me know what the weather was going to be like in the next week and if snow/ice was expected that I should be careful on the roads.  Sorry... I digress.  

I would also call my Dad upon my return to let him know we'd made it home safe.  He'd ask how our trip was.  Did we try such and such or go to this place or the other.  Always interested in what we'd done.  He'd tell me he was glad I had fun and glad I was home safe.  Then he'd tell me what I'd missed while I was gone.  He'd fill me in on family happenings and the state of affairs in the news.  It wasn't as if I'd ever traveled somewhere I couldn't get the news but he filled me in nonetheless!!

So, it feels weird to be here now, on this first trip I've taken since he died, and not have had that conversation.  I know I won't have the welcome home conversation either.  My Dad was great at this stuff.  He was so plugged in to our lives.  His presence was a given.  I wouldn't say I took it for granted.  I just always thought it would be there.  I recognize that seems like the same thing but I see it as just a comfort in knowing he'd be there.  Or hoping.  Or needing! 

What now?

The funeral is over, everyone is back to work and their own lives and we are left to flounder.  We attempt to busy ourselves with things that absolutely have to be done and then things that just keep our minds off of our troubles.  It's never really enough though.  Even with all of the activity the pain is still there. 

Today it's been a month since he died. All day I kept looking at the clock.  "One month ago my Dad was alive".  By the end of the day I had to guess.  Was he alive at 2:30 or 3:00.  Surely not alive at 4:30 but maybe?  It was a cruel game I couldn't stop playing.   I tried to tell myself to stop.  Tried to keep my mind busy but wouldn't you know, the slowest day at work was TODAY! 

 I wonder how long this will go one?  How long will I play those tricks with my mind?  I often wonder if there was something that could have been done to change the course of events.  If I'd called him right before he died, would be still be here?  If I'd asked him to come out to the house to help us fix something, would that have tripped his fate?  If, if and if.  My least favorite word and my least favorite thoughts. 

Miss me... but let me go

My nephew Kaden read this poem at my Dad's funeral.  He was amazingly brave and strong and I was so proud of him...

Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not for long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that once we shared
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all part of the master plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go the friends we know.
Laugh at all the things we used to do
Miss me, but let me go.

When I am dead my dearest
Sing no sad songs for me
Plant thou no roses at my head
Nor shady cypress tree
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet
And if thou wilt remember
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not fear the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

The funeral

My Dad died on a Saturday but we didn't do his funeral until Thursday.  This was hard for my Mom but Wednesday was his birthday and none of us wanted to have his funeral on his birthday.  So... we waited until Thursday.  

We made the decision to have him cremated but we wanted to have a viewing as a part of the service and luckily we were able to do that.  We also wanted to do a service late enough in the afternoon so people wouldn't be inconvenienced with it being a work day.  Lastly, we wanted to have a lot of say in the service itself.  We wanted to pick the readings, pick eulogists and have our own music.  We were able to do all of that.

My Dad raised us all Catholic but he was not Catholic, having never converted even after having been married in the church.  Many times during his life he had talked about wanting to possibly be baptized but he never did it.  In the last ten years or so he lost interest in that and his desires changed.  Not a one of us pushed him or made him feel like he had to do that but it did make it interesting when thinking about how we would do his service.  A Catholic priest will not come to a funeral home to perform a service for a non Catholic person.  A deacon will come, but not a priest  My sister in law is a teacher at an Episcopalian school and the priest at that school very graciously offered to perform the service for us.

The day of the funeral I felt very out of sorts.  I was so anxious and felt like I was going to jump out of my skin.  As much as I wanted it to be OVER already, I wasn't prepared for it all to end.  I'm sure that makes sense to those of you who have been through something like this and to the rest of you I am sure it's confusing and backwards!  This being over would only mean he was really gone and not coming back.  I wasn't sure I could deal with that.  I'm still not sure I can deal with that to be honest.

My husband and I picked my Mom up to bring her with us to the funeral home.  She was, obviously, very nervous and upset.  It was like a comedy all of us trying to soothe and comfort the other when we were so upset too!  As we got into the car my Mom said "I don't want to do this".  All I could do was cry and agree.  i don't want to either.  I really don't.

Arriving at the funeral home my stomach was in knots.  Lying in a coffin, behind those doors was my Father.  A site I never thought I would see like this and a site I had no desire to see today.  My Mom made it clear to my siblings and I that she wanted us all to be with my Dad in the chapel during the entire service.  She wanted us to greet people in the chapel and stand together.  We agreed we would not leave him, or her, for the entire service.  We had all agreed to show up 30 minutes prior to the viewing to have some time alone and to prepare for the service.

As we walked into the chapel I could see him.  My Father.  Lying in a coffin.  Looking so very much like he always did.  I'm not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.  I wanted him to "look like him" but it was so hard because I wanted to scream and shout at him to get the FUCK UP!!  Sorry.  I just was shocked in seeing him there that he was gone.  The shock of it all hits me to this day.  It's not easy.

We began to accept people into the chapel at 4 p.m. and were so glad to see so many people come to say goodbye to my Dad and to comfort those of us he left behind.  My Mom was heartbroken and had such a difficult time in standing with us.  While she made such a deal about us all being together, she couldn't handle it.  I have to say, it was my pleasure to do this for my Mom.  I wanted nothing more than for her to be OK and didn't want her to force herself to do anything she couldn't do.

During the service we had lovely music with songs my Dad enjoyed hearing when we went to Mass.  We chose readings that we thought really spoke to how we felt and how my Dad would have felt if he had been there with us.  My nephew Kaden read one of the readings and did such an amazing job.  He cried through the whole thing (as did the rest of us) but he pushed through and I just know he made his Grandpa so proud of him!  My Uncle Rick, with whom my Dad was so close, read the other reading.  My niece and I each did a eulogy which was so important to both of us.  We are so much alike and my Dad would have loved what we had to say.

At the end of the service, my Brother had planned to say a few words and thank everyone for coming.  My Mom actually stood up at the end and said she felt like she had to speak and had to let everyone know how much she loved my Dad.  She was shaking and visibly upset but she really was able to express her feelings for my Dad.  I don't think any of us thought she would/could speak but we were so proud of her for telling everyone that he was the love of her life and that she was devastated to have lost him.

The act of saying goodbye was both beautiful and heartbreaking.  It was lovely and lousy.  We all wanted to get across what a wonderful man he was but more than anything we wanted it to be a dream.  Wanted it to be a joke.  It clearly was not.  When we left the funeral home that evening I felt like I was leaving my Father behind.  I felt like we were leaving him there all alone and that made my heart hurt like it never did before.  I just miss him more than I thought possible.  I love him as much as I always did.

Happy Birthday Dad...

Four days after my Dad died, he would have turned 60.  Yeah, that sucks... right?  SIXTY!! Too young to die... well, that's not the point of the post.  We struggled with how to "celebrate" what would have been such a momentous day in his life.  Truth be told, we had been planning a big surprise party for both my Dad and my brother, who would turn 40 just a week after my Dad's 60th!  Those plans were, obviously, scrapped. 

We decided the best way to honor my Dad on his birthday was to be together. We invited my Uncle Ken and Aunt Cheryl and called our favorite Mexican food restaurant.  Ever since my childhood, Manuel's has been our restaurant of choice. We ate there weekly during my childhood and it was my Dad's favorite restaurant.  Really, it was the only place he liked to eat. 

It's not easy (or fun) to celebrate the birthday of someone who doesn't show up at the party... and even harder when he can't. I think we just really wanted to be together and didn't want to let the day just go by. We also wanted a moment of peace before the funeral which was planned for the next day.  We enjoyed dinner as much as we could, focusing mostly on the kids and visiting with Uncle Ken and Aunt Cheryl.  We all knew who was missing but we didn't talk about it much.

After dinner the three of us "kids" and our families met at my Brother's house to preview the video my cousin Lindsey (very graciously) offered to create for us of pictures of my Dad.  It was a fitting night to watch the video.  It was beautiful and we all were speechless as we watched the images of our Dad/Grandpa flash across the screen.  Lindsey couldn't have done it any better!! 

It was a tough day and we all knew the days to come wouldn't get any easier. 

The dreaded details

We started to discuss what my Dad would want us to do as far as "arrangements" pretty early on.  I had heard him say over the course of my life on many occasions that he wanted to be cremated.  I am not a fan of cremation.  As if you could be a fan, but anyway... I really wouldn't choose this for myself but wanted so much to do what my Dad wanted.  My Mom swore she could never remember him saying that.  I think she was not in the place to make a decision.

We contacted the funeral home to set up an appointment and during the time between his death and our appointments, we discussed the details ad nauseum.    I made it clear that it was really my Mom's choice.  He was her partner and while I felt strongly about cremation, I wanted her to make the final decision.  I think she was too grief stricken to really give any of it much thought for much time. 

We met with the funeral home two days after my Dad died.  We had many discussions about what we wanted, what we needed and what would really happen.  We knew that this was our opportunity to honor my Dad and his place in our lives.  I had no idea how hard it would be to feel like we were doing that.

There are so many choices to make at this time and they all seem so important.  Are they?  Probably not but boy can it be easy to get caught up.  It's almost like planning a wedding but not as exciting or joyous.  To say the least!! 

We were lucky to have my Dad's brother and his wife with us.  Uncle Ken and Aunt Cheryl had been with us from Saturday night.  Offering to help but insisting they didn't want to step on our toes.  There was surely no toe stepping going on.  We all needed help and we needed the two of them specifically.  My Dad's family is not close.  My Mom's family was his.  It was nice to see, in his death, he would be honored by his blood. 

After we met with the funeral home we went right over to the church to meet with the priest who would be performing(?) the funeral service.  This meeting was less emotional but we were still as adamant about our desires for the service.  We just had to get it right.

When we got into the car to leave the church, I felt relieved. As if on cue my brother said, "Well, we got through it".   I can tell you I sure didn't think we would.  But... what's the option??

Dreams...

Beginning the night my Dad died, I begged him every night before I fell asleep to come to me in a dream to tell me he was OK or that he loved me.  Or both!!  I recognize that not being able to let go of my despair and need to know he is OK probably hinders this whole plan but I can't help myself. 

I have had two dreams in the last three weeks about my Dad.  I'm not sure I believe that either dream was anything more than a dream but it was still nice to interact with him, just a little bit.  The funny thing is, I thought having a dream about him would make me feel lighter but it actually made me feel sad.  I just can't be pleased. 

I think what I really want is my Dad.  Back.  In my life.  Alive.  Well.  That's not going to happen and that sucks! 

Saying those words...

My Dad is dead. My Dad passed away. My Dad is gone. There is no easy way to say what needs to be said. No easy way to pass on the news that I don't even really want to share. The other side of that is, I don't want to hold on to the news. I want people to know and I absolutely need the power of prayer and collective positive thought to help me get through.

In addition, my Mom has a list of people she wants called and some of those calls are just downright painful. The first call I made was to my Mom's friend Sharon. She's been my Mom's friend for most of her marriage. Sharon and Mike are very good friends with my parents. They have four kids who are like cousins to us. When I called Sharon, telling her was so painful. She couldn't finish the conversation and had to put her daughter on the line. I knew I was hurting both of them telling them what happened and I hated that.

The hard part about learning how to share about what happened and about my Dad is how to speak ABOUT him. Even today, I can't talk about him in the past tense. It's really hard if I'm saying something about my Mom AND Dad. How do I talk about THEM in the past tense? I mean, they are in the past tense. My Mom is here and my Dad is not. For me, they will always be a they. My parents were married for forty years. That's a long time. It's hard for me to see them as separate people. If it's this hard for me, I can't even imagine how hard it is for my Mom.

First night

Why is it when something horrible happens people tell you that sleep and food are so important?? I do it to my Mom now but I realize that sleeping and eating are so trivial when a tragedy occurs. The night my Dad died we all left my Mom in her house alone. I know it sounds horrible and trust me, that was not our idea. She wanted to be by herself. She even kicked my brother out, telling him she couldn't talk to my Dad or cry like she needed/wanted to if he was there. How could we blame her??

My husband and I drove out to Tempe to pick up our son who was with my nephews at my sisters house. I don't think I said more than three words the whole way there. We drove home in silence as well. There really was nothing left to say. I probably cried more tears than I knew were possible since the phone call telling me something was wrong but I kept on crying on the ride home. I tried to will my Dad alive but unfortunately that didn't work!

Once home, with Christian tucked into bed, Chris and I sat on the couch and I tried to do something, anything constructive but it was just not possible. I laid in bed and cried more. I slept for a few hours but awoke early and couldn't get back to sleep. My stomach growled but food or the idea of food turned me off. Hunger strike? No. Just no reason to eat. No reason at all.

The pain was unbearable and the reality of what happened hadn't even hit me. My Dad is gone. For good. Forever. I can't even make it through one night. How will I last the rest of my life. This tragedy, this heartbreak is unbelievable.

After I'd been up for about 30 minutes, Christian woke up, walked sleepily out to the family room and curled up next to me. "I love you Mama". Tears. "I love you too buddy. I love you a lot". Life goes on... right??

In a fog

From the moment the first phone call from Kaden came in, my life is foggy. It feels like I can't see, feel, hear or even smell the way I am supposed to. I find myself trying so hard to go back in my mind and remember exactly what someone said, what I said or what I heard. I tell the same stories over and over again and I can't help myself.

The moments of clarity are painful and horrifying. These are the moments when I realize my Dad is really gone. He is really dead. It hurts to even type that.

The first goodbye

The night my Dad died was the most surreal night of my life. When I walked into the house there was a policeman standing "guard" at the bathroom door. My Dad was behind that door, dead. The policeman couldn't/wouldn't move until the funeral home came to pick up my Dad. It took hours for the funeral home to come. On one hand I never wanted them to get there but on the other, I was sick to my stomach about him lying in the bathroom, alone and in the dark. At one point I asked the policeman to please turn on the light for him. Not that it made any difference but I needed it to happen.

A few hours later the funeral home showed up. They agreed to allow my Mom and my siblings and I to say goodbye before they took him. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin waiting for all of this to happen. It felt like the worst moments I had ever experienced. They spent some time in the house getting him out of the bathroom and finally called us in. I went in with my Mom, Bobby, Heather and my Dad's brother.

They had put my Dad on a stretcher and had in my the living room. It was the most heartbreaking vision I'd ever seen. I was in a fog and willed myself to wake up from this nightmare. We all cried and some of us said goodbye and some of us couldn't muster more than a word or two.

The most heartbreaking part of this experience was my Mom's begging my Dad to get up and to be OK. She was saying what we all wanted to say but knew it would do no good. It was more than I could take but I couldn't walk away. I'll never understand how I made it through those moments but before I knew it, he was gone.

Feeling blessed while my heart is being ripped out...

As I sat in my parents house trying to understand the fact that I had JUST found out my Father had died, people began to arrive. First it was my Mom's younger brother, my Uncle Tom and his wife, my Aunt Nancy. He immediately went to my Mom and I heard her cry out as he gathered her in his arms and hugged her tight. He had just lost his brother in law and he and my Dad were close. My Dad was a part of my Mom's family for more than 40 years and the lines of in laws and blood relative had become blurry many years before.

Soon the driveway began to fill up with more members of our family. Some of my cousins came, another Aunt and my Dad's brother and his wife. It was amazing how people just came runninwhen they knew what happened and didn't know what else to do. We hugged, talked, cried and waited for the funeral home to come. Some people needed a task, picking up water, making phone calls or making plans - while some people were content to just hug and support my Mom.

It took what seemed like several hours for the funeral home to show up and it felt as if we were in limbo just waiting. Having those that we love near us during those hours was comforting and even distracting at times. We were all in shock and no one knew what the right thing to say was but just being together and proving comfort was helpful.

My Dad might have been gone already but his spirit was among us that night.

The moment my life changed...

March 12, 2011 - It happened so fast I almost can't believe it even happened. I'm sitting on the couch after coming home from a haircut when my cell phone rings. The caller ID says it's my 14 year old nephew Kaden. I thought maybe it was my sister, using his phone.

"Hello" I say. "Aunt Sandi, something is wrong with Grandpa. My Mom says you have to go to Grandma's. It's bad". I can't believe it and can't understand what he's saying. I ask what happened but of course he doesn't know.

My husband and I leave the house quickly with our son. I am way to upset to drive. I call my Brother who doesn't answer. I get my sister in law on the phone but she doesn't know anything. Bobby is on the phone with my nephew and they are headed to my Mom's house. I tell her to please call me when they get there. She promises me she will. She never does. Turns out she doesn't want to be the one to tell me my Dad is dead. I don't blame her.

I live about 40 minutes from my parents and it feels like the ride takes hours. About ten minutes away my Brother calls. I tell him to just tell me. I don't want him to struggle with it and I don't want to wait. "He's gone". Just like that. I scream out and sob uncontrollably. "PLEASE NO!". The last ten minutes are like a dream. I don't want to get there and face the reality of my Father's death but I need to get out of this car.

When we get to my Mom's, I see the police cars and the crisis van for the City Fire Department. I am momentarily confused and slightly hopeful that this is all just some weird mistake. I jump out of the car even before it's stopped. Running into my Mom's house I can see there is no mistake and this is far from weird. There is a policeman standing guard at the bathroom door. He's in there. Lying on the floor, gone for a while. A heart attack took him on his way in or out of the shower. We'll never know. My Mom found him and he was already gone.

I feel in an instant like my life will never be the same. My rock, my strength, my biggest supporter and cheerleader is gone... in an instant.