It wasn't "normal." It wasn't necessarily "Merry." But we made it. We made it through Christmas. It was hard, but not as hard as I had built it up to be in my mind. It helped that we did something completely different from every other year and traveled to see family. Usually we would just go to my Mama and Daddy's house. We did do that on the 23rd and that was probably the hardest day.
We opened our gifts that night so we didn't have to pack those too. No one would sit in my Daddy's chair. Except for little Nono. Nono has always been called "Little D" due to the fact that he looks and acts (and has a temper like) my Daddy. Nono sat in that chair like it was his and it made my heart smile. Somehow anyone else sitting in that chair would have made it that much harder.
The kids had fun. The adults made it through and that's what matters.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
This is Happening...
It's hitting me today. This whole Christmas thing is ACTUALLY going to happen...without my Daddy. The trees are up. The presents purchased (but not wrapped because something has to be left for the last minute, right?).
But there is such a big hole. Huge. Ginormous. There is no shopping for him this year. No trying to find the perfect gift for a hard to buy for man. No excitement from me because I found that something that was just *right* for him. Every year I took it as a challenge to find him something. Every year I somehow pulled it off and didn't resort to a musical tie or ridiculous socks.
So for the past few weeks I've been going through the motions. Being excited with Gigi but hurting inside. Thinking maybe if I just ignored it - it would happen. It would go away. It wouldn't hurt so bad.
But that is not to be. So here I sit, with Christmas Eve fast approaching and knowing that we will not be eating our traditional barbeques and oyster stew for dinner. We won't be having caramel rolls for breakfast Christmas morning at my Mama and Daddy's house while the kids playing with their new toys. We won't have prime rib or everyone's favorite prime rib sandwiches after Christmas dinner. We will just have those memories. Somehow that doesn't seem like enough.
We will be traveling this year - to be away from here. Away from the memories of Christmases past. Away from happy memories. Yes, you can call it running away. I'm okay with that. None of us can stay here this year without him. So I'm thankful for my aunt and uncle who are welcoming us into their home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Christmas isn't supposed to be sad. It is supposed to be about the birth of our Savior. This year I'm having a hard time celebrating that fabulous birth without remember the great death that we suffered this year.
Merry Christmas in Heaven Daddy. I miss you so much and can't believe that we have to celebrate this year without you. My heart is broken.
But there is such a big hole. Huge. Ginormous. There is no shopping for him this year. No trying to find the perfect gift for a hard to buy for man. No excitement from me because I found that something that was just *right* for him. Every year I took it as a challenge to find him something. Every year I somehow pulled it off and didn't resort to a musical tie or ridiculous socks.
So for the past few weeks I've been going through the motions. Being excited with Gigi but hurting inside. Thinking maybe if I just ignored it - it would happen. It would go away. It wouldn't hurt so bad.
But that is not to be. So here I sit, with Christmas Eve fast approaching and knowing that we will not be eating our traditional barbeques and oyster stew for dinner. We won't be having caramel rolls for breakfast Christmas morning at my Mama and Daddy's house while the kids playing with their new toys. We won't have prime rib or everyone's favorite prime rib sandwiches after Christmas dinner. We will just have those memories. Somehow that doesn't seem like enough.
We will be traveling this year - to be away from here. Away from the memories of Christmases past. Away from happy memories. Yes, you can call it running away. I'm okay with that. None of us can stay here this year without him. So I'm thankful for my aunt and uncle who are welcoming us into their home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Christmas isn't supposed to be sad. It is supposed to be about the birth of our Savior. This year I'm having a hard time celebrating that fabulous birth without remember the great death that we suffered this year.
Merry Christmas in Heaven Daddy. I miss you so much and can't believe that we have to celebrate this year without you. My heart is broken.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
December 2 - Writing
December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?
Hmmm...I do A LOT each day that doesn't contribute to my writing. But honestly I don't want to change it. Unless I start making money from this little blog THEN I would consider eliminating the things I do each day that distract me.
The list is long...
*Gigi
*The Internet
*reading other blogs
*Twitter
*my "stories" LOL
I'd like a job. Then we'll talk about eliminating things!!
Hmmm...I do A LOT each day that doesn't contribute to my writing. But honestly I don't want to change it. Unless I start making money from this little blog THEN I would consider eliminating the things I do each day that distract me.
The list is long...
*Gigi
*The Internet
*reading other blogs
*my "stories" LOL
I'd like a job. Then we'll talk about eliminating things!!
December 1 - One Word
Yes I know that it is December 9th but as part of Reverb 10 I will do a post from each day starting with December 1st.
The Prompt for December 1st is One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
One Word, huh? My one word for December would be...HARD.
2010 has been a hard year. From the very beginning of the year I had hope that it would be a good year. I rang in 2010 snuggled up with my little girl by my side and just *knew* it was going to be a good year. Apparently I was wrong.
From my mom's concussion, to losing my job 3 days after I turned 32, to my dad having health issues that turned into a brain tumor that turned in to brain surgery that turned into brain cancer and an infection that ultimately killed him.
We had plans. Plans for the future. Plans for the present. Plans. We didn't know that last Christmas was our last Christmas with my Daddy. We didn't know that our little family being snowed in last year with Daddy reading the Christmas story from the Bible and singing Silent Night with candles would be our last Christmas memories of him. Us all wearing our matching jammies (even him!) on Christmas morning.
It's hard to know that this year will be so...different. Everything is.
2010 - it was HARD.
The Prompt for December 1st is One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
One Word, huh? My one word for December would be...HARD.
2010 has been a hard year. From the very beginning of the year I had hope that it would be a good year. I rang in 2010 snuggled up with my little girl by my side and just *knew* it was going to be a good year. Apparently I was wrong.
From my mom's concussion, to losing my job 3 days after I turned 32, to my dad having health issues that turned into a brain tumor that turned in to brain surgery that turned into brain cancer and an infection that ultimately killed him.
We had plans. Plans for the future. Plans for the present. Plans. We didn't know that last Christmas was our last Christmas with my Daddy. We didn't know that our little family being snowed in last year with Daddy reading the Christmas story from the Bible and singing Silent Night with candles would be our last Christmas memories of him. Us all wearing our matching jammies (even him!) on Christmas morning.
It's hard to know that this year will be so...different. Everything is.
2010 - it was HARD.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Haven't blogged in awhile...just haven't been in the mood. Christmas is hard :(
There is a project going on called Reverb 10 that I should've started blogging about on December 1st but I didn't so I'm going to start tomorrow. Basically the premise is that the website provides prompts for each day of December to reflect on 2010. It's 10:15 so I'm not going to start tonight but will do a couple tomorrow and couple the next day until I catch up.
Until then...
There is a project going on called Reverb 10 that I should've started blogging about on December 1st but I didn't so I'm going to start tomorrow. Basically the premise is that the website provides prompts for each day of December to reflect on 2010. It's 10:15 so I'm not going to start tonight but will do a couple tomorrow and couple the next day until I catch up.
Until then...
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanksgiving
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A day that used to be fun and full of eating and a day this year that is filled with trepidation, fear and sadness. This will be the first real holiday without my Daddy.
Even though he is not here there are so many things to be thankful for. It's time to count my blessings and not dwell on the fact that he is not here.
I'm thankful that I got to have a Daddy for 32 years. Some people don't get that. I'm thankful that I have so many wonderful memories of him and can remember all the fun we had and the laughs we shared and try to forget the fights and the bad times.
I'm thankful that he loved me so much and that I had the opportunity to love him. I'm thankful that both of my parents "rescued" me and helped me get on my feet. I'm thankful that I still have my wonderful Mama and that we will be together for Thanksgiving this year.
I'm thankful that we have the kids - who are forcing the adults to BE adults and not wallow in our sadness during this holiday. I'm thankful that I got to spend so many Thanksgivings with my family so that we have memories like putting up the Christmas lights, Daddy always washing the dishes to put in the dishwasher (beginning the "why are you washing the dishes before we put the dishes in the dishwasher" argument), eating pumpkin pie, drinking red wine (even though Daddy loved the dry icky stuff - he was always nice and shared), and there are so many others.
I'm thankful that each one of his grandkids got to at least meet him even if the won't have many memories of him. He loved those kids...and they loved him.
I'm thankful that we didn't know that last year was our last Thanksgiving with him...our last Christmas...our last everything. I think of my friend E, whose mother is dying of cancer, and how each and every holiday it is known that is *could* be the last. I admire their strength to be able to get through it. We just have memories of the holidays being good. Of him sitting in the chair reading the Christmas story from the Bible last Christmas Eve because the roads were too bad to get to church.
I'm thankful that he taught me to fight for ME. I'm having some health issues and am frustrated but will keep on seeking answers because "I don't know" is NOT a good enough answer for me.
I'm thankful that we got the chance to say goodbye. Even if we didn't want to...he left this earth knowing just how much he was loved and he left each one of us with the knowledge of how much he loved us. I'm thankful that I know that when he left this earthly life there was eternal life waiting for him. I'm thankful for my faith and the people that have taught me to believe so I know that this was not the end for him.
I'm thankful for his friends - who have been so diligent on checking up on my Mama and making sure she is okay. I'm thankful for the friends that have checked up on all of us, knowing that this time of the year is not an easy one.
Today for the first time I had to go through my medical history and actually add that my father was in fact deceased and had cancer. That was HARD. I'm not going to lie, there were tears. But the friendly nurse and doctor was so great. Like they were sent to be here at this time to give me some comfort. They both said, "that's so hard. I'm so sorry." and meant it. It *is* hard. It sucks.
Please remember to keep all of us in your prayers, to get through this difficult time without my Daddy. To figure out a way to find joy in this season for the kids while the adults would like to curl up and make the whole season just go away.
I'm thankful that part of the reason that this time of the year is so hard is that my family always made our holidays special. We may not have always had a huge amount of presents or even got along but I was always acutely aware that I was loved. I knew that my family was doing their best to make memories. I cherish those now.
Happy Thanksgiving (to all my American friends at least - sorry Canadians I'm a little late!). I'm certainly going to count my blessings while we try to get through the day.
Even though he is not here there are so many things to be thankful for. It's time to count my blessings and not dwell on the fact that he is not here.
I'm thankful that I got to have a Daddy for 32 years. Some people don't get that. I'm thankful that I have so many wonderful memories of him and can remember all the fun we had and the laughs we shared and try to forget the fights and the bad times.
I'm thankful that he loved me so much and that I had the opportunity to love him. I'm thankful that both of my parents "rescued" me and helped me get on my feet. I'm thankful that I still have my wonderful Mama and that we will be together for Thanksgiving this year.
I'm thankful that we have the kids - who are forcing the adults to BE adults and not wallow in our sadness during this holiday. I'm thankful that I got to spend so many Thanksgivings with my family so that we have memories like putting up the Christmas lights, Daddy always washing the dishes to put in the dishwasher (beginning the "why are you washing the dishes before we put the dishes in the dishwasher" argument), eating pumpkin pie, drinking red wine (even though Daddy loved the dry icky stuff - he was always nice and shared), and there are so many others.
I'm thankful that each one of his grandkids got to at least meet him even if the won't have many memories of him. He loved those kids...and they loved him.
I'm thankful that we didn't know that last year was our last Thanksgiving with him...our last Christmas...our last everything. I think of my friend E, whose mother is dying of cancer, and how each and every holiday it is known that is *could* be the last. I admire their strength to be able to get through it. We just have memories of the holidays being good. Of him sitting in the chair reading the Christmas story from the Bible last Christmas Eve because the roads were too bad to get to church.
I'm thankful that he taught me to fight for ME. I'm having some health issues and am frustrated but will keep on seeking answers because "I don't know" is NOT a good enough answer for me.
I'm thankful that we got the chance to say goodbye. Even if we didn't want to...he left this earth knowing just how much he was loved and he left each one of us with the knowledge of how much he loved us. I'm thankful that I know that when he left this earthly life there was eternal life waiting for him. I'm thankful for my faith and the people that have taught me to believe so I know that this was not the end for him.
I'm thankful for his friends - who have been so diligent on checking up on my Mama and making sure she is okay. I'm thankful for the friends that have checked up on all of us, knowing that this time of the year is not an easy one.
Today for the first time I had to go through my medical history and actually add that my father was in fact deceased and had cancer. That was HARD. I'm not going to lie, there were tears. But the friendly nurse and doctor was so great. Like they were sent to be here at this time to give me some comfort. They both said, "that's so hard. I'm so sorry." and meant it. It *is* hard. It sucks.
Please remember to keep all of us in your prayers, to get through this difficult time without my Daddy. To figure out a way to find joy in this season for the kids while the adults would like to curl up and make the whole season just go away.
I'm thankful that part of the reason that this time of the year is so hard is that my family always made our holidays special. We may not have always had a huge amount of presents or even got along but I was always acutely aware that I was loved. I knew that my family was doing their best to make memories. I cherish those now.
Happy Thanksgiving (to all my American friends at least - sorry Canadians I'm a little late!). I'm certainly going to count my blessings while we try to get through the day.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Insomnia
It's 3:55 am as I write this. I'm awake and have not been sleeping tonight. Some of it is due to the fact that I cannot shut my brain off and some is because I have a kidney infection and it HURTS.
I am in pain. The medication is not working. I had thoughts of going to the ER the other night but the logistics of it are a nightmare (do I call my mom and have her come stay with Gigi and go myself? A neighbor?). It was easier not to go and be in pain.
Then I thought more about it. I have not set foot in that hospital since the early morning hours of July 13th. I was there every single day for almost three weeks, my Mama basically lived there and my Daddy died there. The ER doors are the doors I entered the night he died. Can I even go back there?
I know that I will eventually need to someday. Eventually I will need to go to the hospital for something but knowing that's the last place I saw my Daddy alive is a hard pill to swallow. Knowing that we all had hope that he would not die there but die at home.
One step forward and two steps back - isn't that what they say?
I was doing really well for awhile and now feel like I've had some sort of setback. Maybe it's the fact that I don't feel well. Or the fact that the holidays are fast approaching. I don't want to celebrate this year but we will for the kids. I don't want a Thanksgiving or Christmas without my Daddy.
*sigh*
I am in pain. The medication is not working. I had thoughts of going to the ER the other night but the logistics of it are a nightmare (do I call my mom and have her come stay with Gigi and go myself? A neighbor?). It was easier not to go and be in pain.
Then I thought more about it. I have not set foot in that hospital since the early morning hours of July 13th. I was there every single day for almost three weeks, my Mama basically lived there and my Daddy died there. The ER doors are the doors I entered the night he died. Can I even go back there?
I know that I will eventually need to someday. Eventually I will need to go to the hospital for something but knowing that's the last place I saw my Daddy alive is a hard pill to swallow. Knowing that we all had hope that he would not die there but die at home.
One step forward and two steps back - isn't that what they say?
I was doing really well for awhile and now feel like I've had some sort of setback. Maybe it's the fact that I don't feel well. Or the fact that the holidays are fast approaching. I don't want to celebrate this year but we will for the kids. I don't want a Thanksgiving or Christmas without my Daddy.
*sigh*
Friday, November 5, 2010
My Gigi...
I just need to write about my Gigi. She is the most loving, caring, cool 5 year old kiddo ever. She can read me and knows when I need a hug, need a kiss or just need her to snuggle up to me.
Gigi and I have pretty much always been joined at the hip. Immediately when I found out I was pregnant I *knew* that it was my daughter. Even as a tiny baby she picked up on the smallest piece of discontent and wouldn't be happy til her Mama was happy.
Tonight my little baby girl (because yes, at 5 I still call her that and will when she is 25) looked at me and just said, "You are the best Mama in the whole world. You take such good care of me and I just love you so much." She has been throwing me kisses and hearts since I picked her up from school. She told me she saved up 100 kisses for me at school and on our way home she smooched every single one of those at me from the backseat of the car.
Through all the sleepless nights, the crying, the literal fights to get her to sleep, the night terrors, the crying, the sleepless nights (and did I mention the crying? ) she has been HER. A little person with a big personality. A Drama Queen at her finest.
I knew unconditional love before Gigi came along. I knew that from my parents who loved me even when I screwed up. But I did not realize how INTENSE that unconditional love could be. Of course I would do anything for this child - but it's not just anything. I would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy and you know what? She would do the same for me.
"I just love you Mommy...too much" is a familiar phrase in our house. As is, "Mama I heart you." She decided tonight that instead of please that our magic word should be heart. As in, "Mama could you heart help me get this on?" Goofy girl. Just another way of her showing her love.
She fell asleep snuggled up with me tonight on the couch. When I moved her to bed she opened her eyes slightly and purred. "I heart you Mama," she murmured and purred again. The child that I love so much and loves me back also thinks she is a kitty when she is sleeping.
Last year I took part in the "everyday post something you are greatful for on Facebook" challenge. I am not taking part this year. Not because I'm not thankful but because it still is hard to find the good in things somedays when I am so sad. Plus my friends don't want to hear "I'm thankful for Gigi who makes me laugh," or "I'm thankful for my baby girl who loves me more than I deserve."
So I'll use my blog instead. Tonight I am very thankful for my Gigi. My heart. My baby. I love her more than she will ever know or realize - and I'm beginning to think the feeling is mutual.
Gigi and I have pretty much always been joined at the hip. Immediately when I found out I was pregnant I *knew* that it was my daughter. Even as a tiny baby she picked up on the smallest piece of discontent and wouldn't be happy til her Mama was happy.
Tonight my little baby girl (because yes, at 5 I still call her that and will when she is 25) looked at me and just said, "You are the best Mama in the whole world. You take such good care of me and I just love you so much." She has been throwing me kisses and hearts since I picked her up from school. She told me she saved up 100 kisses for me at school and on our way home she smooched every single one of those at me from the backseat of the car.
Through all the sleepless nights, the crying, the literal fights to get her to sleep, the night terrors, the crying, the sleepless nights (and did I mention the crying? ) she has been HER. A little person with a big personality. A Drama Queen at her finest.
I knew unconditional love before Gigi came along. I knew that from my parents who loved me even when I screwed up. But I did not realize how INTENSE that unconditional love could be. Of course I would do anything for this child - but it's not just anything. I would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy and you know what? She would do the same for me.
"I just love you Mommy...too much" is a familiar phrase in our house. As is, "Mama I heart you." She decided tonight that instead of please that our magic word should be heart. As in, "Mama could you heart help me get this on?" Goofy girl. Just another way of her showing her love.
She fell asleep snuggled up with me tonight on the couch. When I moved her to bed she opened her eyes slightly and purred. "I heart you Mama," she murmured and purred again. The child that I love so much and loves me back also thinks she is a kitty when she is sleeping.
Last year I took part in the "everyday post something you are greatful for on Facebook" challenge. I am not taking part this year. Not because I'm not thankful but because it still is hard to find the good in things somedays when I am so sad. Plus my friends don't want to hear "I'm thankful for Gigi who makes me laugh," or "I'm thankful for my baby girl who loves me more than I deserve."
So I'll use my blog instead. Tonight I am very thankful for my Gigi. My heart. My baby. I love her more than she will ever know or realize - and I'm beginning to think the feeling is mutual.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Gifts
I love giving gifts. I love picking up on little hints even if people don't know they are hints and surprising someone with a thoughtful gift that even they didn't realize how badly they wanted. I've been known to wrap up all sorts of little trinkets and let someone unwrap them all and then "whoops" I forgot the card. Give that to them last and in the card it says the trinkets are just for show that their REAL gift is tickets to a sporting event. (I took my now ex-husband to a Chiefs game - he is a lifelong fan and had never seen them in Kansas City - I scored excellent tickets and took him to a game - yes, I rock :) )
I've been known to buy something in February for a Christmas gift (and then sometimes I forget I have it and then get something different and then find it randomly the next June and give a 'just because' gift). I LIKE doing this. No one in my life has ever lived up to my expectations in this department because I think everyone should be like me and able to pick up on things.
My Daddy? He was possibly the hardest person to buy gifts for. He was the man who had everything and then some. And if he wanted something? There was no patience, he would buy it for himself. So gift giving was always...a treat with him. I would sometimes resort to gift cards to his favorite pilot store because a. I knew he would put it to good use and b. I didn't have a gajillion dollars to buy what he REALLY wanted from that store.
One year just after he had purchased his Cessna 182 - affectionately known as Ruby - I bought him a pilots bag in blazing red to match. He didn't know he wanted it. But he LOVED that bag. He used it everytime he took Ruby for a little fly.
One year I bought him an airplane of shiny polished wood from a kiosk in the mall. He didn't even know that something like it existed but I think he liked it. He put it up in his office.
Last year? The mans slippers were falling apart. Me, being me, noticed this and decided to get him new ones. I found some wonderful sheepskin slippers with a hard bottom on them so they could be worn outside to get the paper in the mornings. He liked them and didn't even realize he needed them until he got them.
I purchased those slippers from a kiosk in the mall (note: if you have a hard to buy for person on your gift giving list - the holiday kiosks in the mall have fun stuff!). I spent a small fortune on sheepskin slippers so he could replace the ugly old worn out ones.
He wore them. For a few months. And now? The kiosk in the mall is back. I walked past it last night and just got this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I then had what I would call a rough night for the rest of it. Crying on and off and unable to sleep. Unsettled.
I didn't realize until about 4:00 this morning that the reason I was unsettled was because of that stupid kiosk. It's back. That means the holidays are fast approaching. That means we will have one less person with us this year. That means those slippers that I bought him last year are sitting still looking brand new without feet to go in them.
And you know what? IT'S NOT FAIR. It's not fair that he didn't get to wear his slippers more. It's not fair that we didn't know that last Thanksgiving would be our last with him. It's not fair that while we were snowed in on Christmas Eve and we gathered around him and listened to the Christmas story as he read from the Bible will be the last Christmas memory I have of him. It's NOT FAIR.
He always gave my Mama gorgeous jewelry for Christmas that was purchased on either December 23 or 24. He would go in to the jewelry store and pick something out and THEN look at the price. It didn't matter. He would then have the jewelry store wrap it or bring it back to the house for K or I to wrap. It was always exciting on Christmas Eve for Mama to have a little box to open. It was a surprise what color would be in there. Would it be blue? Pink? Or just the shiny white ones? He spoiled her and she deserved it.
It's NOT FAIR that we will have to give thanks for all that we have all the while we are angry for what is missing. There will be no wine on our Thanksgiving table this year because Daddy was the only one who really drank any.
We will not be spending our sacred Christmas holidays at Mama's house. It's too painful for all of us. Christmas was OUR thing. It was OUR night. Oyster Stew, Barbecues, opening presents, grasshoppers, caramel rolls in the morning. Mama and her many trees. Daddy making fun of the many trees but yet somehow had pictures of EVERY.SINGLE.ONE. of them to show off to people who asked.
It's just NOT FAIR. I want to struggle to find his gift. I want to wrap his little boxes for Mama. I want to tease him about being the guy out shopping on Christmas Eve. I want to go back to last year when we were snowed in at their house and shake myself and make me realize that it was last Christmas we would spend with him.
As we start to enter the holidays I am acutely aware of how different things are. Of how different they will be. I honestly would like to just skip ahead to about March 1st. That way Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday and Valentine's Day will all be over. The hurt that I know is coming will be a memory and not an anxiety induced dread.
It helps that there is not yet snow on the ground. It helps knowing that this year is Gigi's year with me for Christmas. It helps knowing that we will be in a different location (looks like the exotic locale of Bismarck, ND is calling our name for Christmas). It helps knowing that we need to put on our happy faces for the kids.
But it doesn't make it really any easier. And really? It doesn't make it more fair either. Life is not fair...I know this. Life is not easy...I know this as well. I just hope and pray that for the next few months that life is as fair and as easy as it can be, for all of our sakes.
*sigh* Is it spring yet?
I've been known to buy something in February for a Christmas gift (and then sometimes I forget I have it and then get something different and then find it randomly the next June and give a 'just because' gift). I LIKE doing this. No one in my life has ever lived up to my expectations in this department because I think everyone should be like me and able to pick up on things.
My Daddy? He was possibly the hardest person to buy gifts for. He was the man who had everything and then some. And if he wanted something? There was no patience, he would buy it for himself. So gift giving was always...a treat with him. I would sometimes resort to gift cards to his favorite pilot store because a. I knew he would put it to good use and b. I didn't have a gajillion dollars to buy what he REALLY wanted from that store.
One year just after he had purchased his Cessna 182 - affectionately known as Ruby - I bought him a pilots bag in blazing red to match. He didn't know he wanted it. But he LOVED that bag. He used it everytime he took Ruby for a little fly.
One year I bought him an airplane of shiny polished wood from a kiosk in the mall. He didn't even know that something like it existed but I think he liked it. He put it up in his office.
Last year? The mans slippers were falling apart. Me, being me, noticed this and decided to get him new ones. I found some wonderful sheepskin slippers with a hard bottom on them so they could be worn outside to get the paper in the mornings. He liked them and didn't even realize he needed them until he got them.
I purchased those slippers from a kiosk in the mall (note: if you have a hard to buy for person on your gift giving list - the holiday kiosks in the mall have fun stuff!). I spent a small fortune on sheepskin slippers so he could replace the ugly old worn out ones.
He wore them. For a few months. And now? The kiosk in the mall is back. I walked past it last night and just got this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I then had what I would call a rough night for the rest of it. Crying on and off and unable to sleep. Unsettled.
I didn't realize until about 4:00 this morning that the reason I was unsettled was because of that stupid kiosk. It's back. That means the holidays are fast approaching. That means we will have one less person with us this year. That means those slippers that I bought him last year are sitting still looking brand new without feet to go in them.
And you know what? IT'S NOT FAIR. It's not fair that he didn't get to wear his slippers more. It's not fair that we didn't know that last Thanksgiving would be our last with him. It's not fair that while we were snowed in on Christmas Eve and we gathered around him and listened to the Christmas story as he read from the Bible will be the last Christmas memory I have of him. It's NOT FAIR.
He always gave my Mama gorgeous jewelry for Christmas that was purchased on either December 23 or 24. He would go in to the jewelry store and pick something out and THEN look at the price. It didn't matter. He would then have the jewelry store wrap it or bring it back to the house for K or I to wrap. It was always exciting on Christmas Eve for Mama to have a little box to open. It was a surprise what color would be in there. Would it be blue? Pink? Or just the shiny white ones? He spoiled her and she deserved it.
It's NOT FAIR that we will have to give thanks for all that we have all the while we are angry for what is missing. There will be no wine on our Thanksgiving table this year because Daddy was the only one who really drank any.
We will not be spending our sacred Christmas holidays at Mama's house. It's too painful for all of us. Christmas was OUR thing. It was OUR night. Oyster Stew, Barbecues, opening presents, grasshoppers, caramel rolls in the morning. Mama and her many trees. Daddy making fun of the many trees but yet somehow had pictures of EVERY.SINGLE.ONE. of them to show off to people who asked.
It's just NOT FAIR. I want to struggle to find his gift. I want to wrap his little boxes for Mama. I want to tease him about being the guy out shopping on Christmas Eve. I want to go back to last year when we were snowed in at their house and shake myself and make me realize that it was last Christmas we would spend with him.
As we start to enter the holidays I am acutely aware of how different things are. Of how different they will be. I honestly would like to just skip ahead to about March 1st. That way Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday and Valentine's Day will all be over. The hurt that I know is coming will be a memory and not an anxiety induced dread.
It helps that there is not yet snow on the ground. It helps knowing that this year is Gigi's year with me for Christmas. It helps knowing that we will be in a different location (looks like the exotic locale of Bismarck, ND is calling our name for Christmas). It helps knowing that we need to put on our happy faces for the kids.
But it doesn't make it really any easier. And really? It doesn't make it more fair either. Life is not fair...I know this. Life is not easy...I know this as well. I just hope and pray that for the next few months that life is as fair and as easy as it can be, for all of our sakes.
*sigh* Is it spring yet?
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Learning
I try to learn something new everyday. It may not be a huge skill and maybe only a little factoid (speaking of - did you know the pieces from the game of Tetris are called "Tetriminos?" There were some college kids dressed up as them today and I told them that little tidbit. They didn't look at me like I was crazy. At all. *sigh*).
Today I learned several things.
1. I may be coming out of the dark so to speak. The depression that has enveloped me probably since my Daddy's diagnosis is starting to look a little brighter. There really may be a blazing sun at the end of this super long tunnel. Took long enough and if my Daddy was here? He would be SO ANGRY at me for being sad this long.
2. I like being busy again. I had a meeting this morning for a super secret project (haha now you wanna know!), a football game at 1:00 (my Augie Vikings? 9-0. 9-0! So proud to be a Viking fan today. A blue and gold Viking fan that is), church at 5:00 and then my Mama and I booked it to the Augie volleyball game to see the last 10 minutes of play. Game started at 5:30 but we were at church so we just came late.
3. Confirmation weekend? Not a good time to bring friends to church who are wanting to check out my church. We had a baptism, a milestone and then confirmation. Along with communion. Not usually indicative of our normal services. Great to see, yes but when I tell the Z family that our church is pretty casual and jeans are just fine and then a bunch of people show up dressed to the nines because they are visitors to our church and are there for confirmation? (Holy run on sentence batman!) Makes me look like a liar. And afterall, I am on the top of the sinner list. My pastor told me.
4. I was asked to transcribe an interview for my volunteer job. I'm an AWFUL transcriber. Seriously. Really bad. Especially when people talk fast. Maybe that's a hint to me to SLOW DOWN. Huh...imagine that.
Those are just things I learned TODAY!
This week I also learned that it's fun to use my brain again. I'm volunteering on the PR team at the American Cancer Society of South Dakota. I feel smart. I feel like maybe my fancy edumacation might lead somewhere. It feels WONDERFUL to talk to adults in a business setting again. I love it.
I learned that Gigi is doing brilliantly at school. I had her first parent/teacher conference and her teacher just kept telling me how kind and considerate she was to others. It was almost enough for me to tear up. Almost. She needs to work on slowing down too, when she is drawing and writing. Other than that she is resourceful and a joy to have in class! Yay Gigi! I was bursting after that conference.
I learned that Gigi's school can still lose her. LOL. Wednesday evening activities didn't go as planned and when I got to school to pick her up we couldn't find her. Deja vu much? I found her safe and sound with her church school friends but was thinking - seriously? Seriously.
I learned that giving a box of Cupcake Pebbles to a five year old to snack on (or "cupcake petals" as they are referred to here) is NOT a good idea. Everywhere. They are EVERYWHERE.
I also learned that that same five year old will look at me and say, "Mama, my tummy hurts" and it will be less than five seconds before the puke hits the floor. FIVE SECONDS. Warning. I need warning!
I learned that Family Ties, Doogie Howser MD and The Wonder Years are on TV again. It's like my childhood! Alex P. Keaton - I will always love you. The Hub rocks.
The biggest thing that I learned this week? That I can still be sad. I can still miss my Daddy. I can still love my Daddy. But I don't have to cry all the time. I will let the tears come when they want and I know that there may be more bad days than good.
I know that my Daddy would be proud of me for my new "job." Not only am I using my brain but I'm using it for good. Working with the American Cancer Society means that I might make a difference. I might be part of something that saves someone else's Daddy. And that's what I want. I don't want anyone to go through the pain of losing their beloved Daddy because it hurts. A lot. And the whole will never go away. We will just learn to live around it.
Today I learned several things.
1. I may be coming out of the dark so to speak. The depression that has enveloped me probably since my Daddy's diagnosis is starting to look a little brighter. There really may be a blazing sun at the end of this super long tunnel. Took long enough and if my Daddy was here? He would be SO ANGRY at me for being sad this long.
2. I like being busy again. I had a meeting this morning for a super secret project (haha now you wanna know!), a football game at 1:00 (my Augie Vikings? 9-0. 9-0! So proud to be a Viking fan today. A blue and gold Viking fan that is), church at 5:00 and then my Mama and I booked it to the Augie volleyball game to see the last 10 minutes of play. Game started at 5:30 but we were at church so we just came late.
3. Confirmation weekend? Not a good time to bring friends to church who are wanting to check out my church. We had a baptism, a milestone and then confirmation. Along with communion. Not usually indicative of our normal services. Great to see, yes but when I tell the Z family that our church is pretty casual and jeans are just fine and then a bunch of people show up dressed to the nines because they are visitors to our church and are there for confirmation? (Holy run on sentence batman!) Makes me look like a liar. And afterall, I am on the top of the sinner list. My pastor told me.
4. I was asked to transcribe an interview for my volunteer job. I'm an AWFUL transcriber. Seriously. Really bad. Especially when people talk fast. Maybe that's a hint to me to SLOW DOWN. Huh...imagine that.
Those are just things I learned TODAY!
This week I also learned that it's fun to use my brain again. I'm volunteering on the PR team at the American Cancer Society of South Dakota. I feel smart. I feel like maybe my fancy edumacation might lead somewhere. It feels WONDERFUL to talk to adults in a business setting again. I love it.
I learned that Gigi is doing brilliantly at school. I had her first parent/teacher conference and her teacher just kept telling me how kind and considerate she was to others. It was almost enough for me to tear up. Almost. She needs to work on slowing down too, when she is drawing and writing. Other than that she is resourceful and a joy to have in class! Yay Gigi! I was bursting after that conference.
I learned that Gigi's school can still lose her. LOL. Wednesday evening activities didn't go as planned and when I got to school to pick her up we couldn't find her. Deja vu much? I found her safe and sound with her church school friends but was thinking - seriously? Seriously.
I learned that giving a box of Cupcake Pebbles to a five year old to snack on (or "cupcake petals" as they are referred to here) is NOT a good idea. Everywhere. They are EVERYWHERE.
I also learned that that same five year old will look at me and say, "Mama, my tummy hurts" and it will be less than five seconds before the puke hits the floor. FIVE SECONDS. Warning. I need warning!
I learned that Family Ties, Doogie Howser MD and The Wonder Years are on TV again. It's like my childhood! Alex P. Keaton - I will always love you. The Hub rocks.
The biggest thing that I learned this week? That I can still be sad. I can still miss my Daddy. I can still love my Daddy. But I don't have to cry all the time. I will let the tears come when they want and I know that there may be more bad days than good.
I know that my Daddy would be proud of me for my new "job." Not only am I using my brain but I'm using it for good. Working with the American Cancer Society means that I might make a difference. I might be part of something that saves someone else's Daddy. And that's what I want. I don't want anyone to go through the pain of losing their beloved Daddy because it hurts. A lot. And the whole will never go away. We will just learn to live around it.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Unexpected Mail :)
I had a card sized envelope that I received in the mail. It was addressed to *me* from the address of Buttercup, Gigi's BFF that moved away. Strange I thought.
I opened it up and found a lovely sympathy card with a simple note to let me know that they are still thinking about and praying for us. I so appreciate that!
Enclosed in the card was a silver heart in a little plastic bag and a card that said:
(The Reunion Heart was designeed as a symbol of God's promise of a reunion in heaven where there will be no more tears)
It just fit onto the chain that I wear daily with my cross so now it looks like this
(the back reads: God will wipe away your tears)
Thank you so much A family for this awesome surprise in my mailbox today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gigi and I had a very tough conversation tonight. She knows that Papa donated his body and it's at the medical school right now so that the students can learn about his cancer. So she asked me, "Mama? What if they find something in Papa that can make him be alive again?"
*sigh* How do you explain to a 5 year old that isn't going to happen? I explained the story of the Waterbugs and Dragonflies again and that Papa couldn't come back to earth. She was sad that she would never see him again.
I am sad too. On Thursday, I start as an intern/volunteer helping with public relations for the South Dakota chapter of the American Cancer Society. It will be a few hours a week to keep my mind busy and to actually use my brain again. I'm excited. And the first person I wanted to call? My Daddy. He would be excited for me too. I know he is actually. I just wish I had a direct line to Heaven so I could talk to him and he could talk back. This one sided conversation stuff is not cutting it :)
I opened it up and found a lovely sympathy card with a simple note to let me know that they are still thinking about and praying for us. I so appreciate that!
Enclosed in the card was a silver heart in a little plastic bag and a card that said:
The Reunion Heart
Since Heaven has become your home
I sometimes feel I'm so alone
and though we now are far apart
you hold a big piece of my heart
I never knew how much I'd grieve
when it was time for you to leave,
or just how much my heart would ache
from that one fragment you would take.
God lets this tender hole remain
reminding me we'll meet again,
and one day all the pain will cease
when He restores this missing piece.
He'll turn to joy my every tear
with thoughts of you I hold so dear,
and they'll become my special way
to treasure our Reunion Day
(The Reunion Heart was designeed as a symbol of God's promise of a reunion in heaven where there will be no more tears)
It just fit onto the chain that I wear daily with my cross so now it looks like this
Thank you so much A family for this awesome surprise in my mailbox today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gigi and I had a very tough conversation tonight. She knows that Papa donated his body and it's at the medical school right now so that the students can learn about his cancer. So she asked me, "Mama? What if they find something in Papa that can make him be alive again?"
*sigh* How do you explain to a 5 year old that isn't going to happen? I explained the story of the Waterbugs and Dragonflies again and that Papa couldn't come back to earth. She was sad that she would never see him again.
I am sad too. On Thursday, I start as an intern/volunteer helping with public relations for the South Dakota chapter of the American Cancer Society. It will be a few hours a week to keep my mind busy and to actually use my brain again. I'm excited. And the first person I wanted to call? My Daddy. He would be excited for me too. I know he is actually. I just wish I had a direct line to Heaven so I could talk to him and he could talk back. This one sided conversation stuff is not cutting it :)
Monday, October 25, 2010
Happy Birthday...
TO YOU!
Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday dear K!
Happy Birthday to Yoooooouuuuuu!!!
It's my sister, K's birthday! She is old. I love her anyway.
Gigi, Mama and I spent the weekend at K's house with her family. We watched Lulu play in a volleyball tournament and then went to their tiny church on Sunday morning. Interesting to go to such a small church when we usually attend such a big one. There was a children's sermon and 4 of the 6 children that were up front for it were sitting in our pew and therefore our family. LOL.
Its still hard at times when the whole family is together. Something is so glaringly missing. I did have my first dream about my Daddy while at my sister's house this weekend. I won't write about it now because it contains some choice words (from him of course), but it was nice to see him in my dreams.
I have an interview tomorrow for an (unpaid) internship/volunteer position in public relations for the local chapter of The American Cancer Society. Wish me luck! I'm trying to dredge up some articles and press releases to show her samples of my writing. It will at least give me something to do with my time if I'm "hired."
Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday dear K!
Happy Birthday to Yoooooouuuuuu!!!
It's my sister, K's birthday! She is old. I love her anyway.
Gigi, Mama and I spent the weekend at K's house with her family. We watched Lulu play in a volleyball tournament and then went to their tiny church on Sunday morning. Interesting to go to such a small church when we usually attend such a big one. There was a children's sermon and 4 of the 6 children that were up front for it were sitting in our pew and therefore our family. LOL.
Its still hard at times when the whole family is together. Something is so glaringly missing. I did have my first dream about my Daddy while at my sister's house this weekend. I won't write about it now because it contains some choice words (from him of course), but it was nice to see him in my dreams.
I have an interview tomorrow for an (unpaid) internship/volunteer position in public relations for the local chapter of The American Cancer Society. Wish me luck! I'm trying to dredge up some articles and press releases to show her samples of my writing. It will at least give me something to do with my time if I'm "hired."
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I don't want to be broken anymore...
Music is a big part of my life. I'm not a singer but I sing anyway. I listen to the radio in the car, my iPod in bed and when on the computer and sing along to the songs overhead in stores (yes, I'm THAT person. It's annoying. But deal with it, mmmmkay? :) ). Song lyrics speak to me. I like to pretend that I can sing along with them and sound good but all would not agree.
My ex-husband used to ask me why I used to sing so loudly. Well, the answer to that is I only have one volume for singing. Loud. If you don't like it? Don't play music I like (which he would gladly do and change the radio to an am sports station and I would pout. LOL.) In the car? I am Carrie freaking Underwood. I sound AWESOME.
I have a playlist on my iPod entitled "Hope." I have listened to this playlist on a continuous loop for a couple months now. Most, if not all of the songs are Christian and are trying to tell me that even though this may be a crappy time - there is hope out there. I turned the iPod on tonight - not feeling particularly down or particularly good. The first song? Alive by Avalon.
A bit of the lyrics:
I don't want to be broken anymore
Living life in a million pieces
I can see my world is changing
Waking me from my sleeping
I hear You calling, it's speaking my name
I will never be the same
I DON'T want to be broken anymore. I want to be happy. I want to wake up in the morning and not have the crushing blow that my Daddy is no longer on this earth hit me. I'm not selfish enough to wish him back, but I miss him.
My life has been in a million pieces and not just because of my Daddy's death. It was breaking before he died and flat out shattered after he was gone.
But you know what? I can see my world changing. I do feel like I may be waking up from the sleeping or from the dark place I was in. I hear God calling me to do something, anything, but be sad 24/7. I will never be the same anymore because now I have experienced true loss. No one could ever come out of the other side of that an unchanged person.
My Daddy would be so angry at me for being so sad for so long. He would say, "Get OVER it already." He wasn't one to dwell. But I think he deserves some dwelling. I think that everyone that loves him deserves to be sad that this man is not on the earth anymore.
I will admit that I am still looking for signs. I want a sign from him. A dream. Anything. I just want to know that he is looking over me and watching me. Maybe I haven't had a sign because he isn't watching me because I have been so sad. After all, Heaven is perfect - I can't believe that he can look down and see us all being sad. That would not be perfect for him. So maybe I need to be happy to get my signs from him.
I got a new phone last week because it was time for an upgrade. My Daddy was nearly an original adopter of cell phones. That man had a phone attached to his ear for a good 15 years if not 20. He got me my first phone when I went away to college so I myself have had a cell phone for 14 years. Daddy always got frustrated with his phones. My new phone? Has been acting up already. The Verizon guy nearly needed to talk me down from a panic attack because my phone froze yesterday and it hadn't worked for 30 minutes. 30 MINUTES! What if something had happened in that 30 minutes? If Gigi was hurt? Or I got an important e-mail (y'know like that someone commented on my blog?). Seriously. I need to get a grip.
After that freakout I realized maybe that was my Daddy's way of messing with me. Funny joke Daddy. Please don't make me freak out again.
Or? Maybe my Daddy is giving me signs of verses or songs that I should review. I was in a waiting room the other day and there was a picture of some football player and an article with it. I didn't read the article but very clear in the picture you could see the words "James 1: 2-3" tattooed on his arm. Hmmmm...I wonder what that verse was?
Interesting. Like when the song I wrote about last time popped into my head. Or the song that I heard tonight. Is my Daddy sending me scripture and songs? SOOOOOO not his style. But someone knew I needed to read it. I can't help but think it was him.
Last week on the 13th was 3 months since my Daddy passed away. I observed that day by finally watching the DVD that we made for his memorial. I won't lie and say it wasn't hard. But I was ready. I was ready to see my smiling, alive, funny Daddy. It didn't make me miss him more (because I don't think I can) or miss him less. It was just...him. Pictures of him with his friends, pictures of him with Mama, with K and I, and with his grandkids.
Last weekend Lulu shot her first pheasant while hunting at "Papa's lodge." She has a couple surrogate Papa's that will make sure she gets to hunt - something Daddy loved to do. He was so proud of her that day I know.
We all miss him terribly. Sometimes it's still hard to realize he is gone. My Mama's home phone number is still in my phone as "Mom and Dad home" and his cell phone number is still in my phone. I downloaded new ringtones last night and for just a moment was thinking of what would be funny for his. Then I realized that he doesn't need a ringtone anymore. Its those dumb things that send me into a crying jag, but I did find an awesome one for K and for my Mama :)
But if I didn't cry? I wouldn't be healing. I wouldn't be Alive like the song says. I don't want to be broken anymore....and I'm working on it.
My ex-husband used to ask me why I used to sing so loudly. Well, the answer to that is I only have one volume for singing. Loud. If you don't like it? Don't play music I like (which he would gladly do and change the radio to an am sports station and I would pout. LOL.) In the car? I am Carrie freaking Underwood. I sound AWESOME.
I have a playlist on my iPod entitled "Hope." I have listened to this playlist on a continuous loop for a couple months now. Most, if not all of the songs are Christian and are trying to tell me that even though this may be a crappy time - there is hope out there. I turned the iPod on tonight - not feeling particularly down or particularly good. The first song? Alive by Avalon.
A bit of the lyrics:
I don't want to be broken anymore
Living life in a million pieces
I can see my world is changing
Waking me from my sleeping
I hear You calling, it's speaking my name
I will never be the same
I DON'T want to be broken anymore. I want to be happy. I want to wake up in the morning and not have the crushing blow that my Daddy is no longer on this earth hit me. I'm not selfish enough to wish him back, but I miss him.
My life has been in a million pieces and not just because of my Daddy's death. It was breaking before he died and flat out shattered after he was gone.
But you know what? I can see my world changing. I do feel like I may be waking up from the sleeping or from the dark place I was in. I hear God calling me to do something, anything, but be sad 24/7. I will never be the same anymore because now I have experienced true loss. No one could ever come out of the other side of that an unchanged person.
My Daddy would be so angry at me for being so sad for so long. He would say, "Get OVER it already." He wasn't one to dwell. But I think he deserves some dwelling. I think that everyone that loves him deserves to be sad that this man is not on the earth anymore.
I will admit that I am still looking for signs. I want a sign from him. A dream. Anything. I just want to know that he is looking over me and watching me. Maybe I haven't had a sign because he isn't watching me because I have been so sad. After all, Heaven is perfect - I can't believe that he can look down and see us all being sad. That would not be perfect for him. So maybe I need to be happy to get my signs from him.
I got a new phone last week because it was time for an upgrade. My Daddy was nearly an original adopter of cell phones. That man had a phone attached to his ear for a good 15 years if not 20. He got me my first phone when I went away to college so I myself have had a cell phone for 14 years. Daddy always got frustrated with his phones. My new phone? Has been acting up already. The Verizon guy nearly needed to talk me down from a panic attack because my phone froze yesterday and it hadn't worked for 30 minutes. 30 MINUTES! What if something had happened in that 30 minutes? If Gigi was hurt? Or I got an important e-mail (y'know like that someone commented on my blog?). Seriously. I need to get a grip.
After that freakout I realized maybe that was my Daddy's way of messing with me. Funny joke Daddy. Please don't make me freak out again.
Or? Maybe my Daddy is giving me signs of verses or songs that I should review. I was in a waiting room the other day and there was a picture of some football player and an article with it. I didn't read the article but very clear in the picture you could see the words "James 1: 2-3" tattooed on his arm. Hmmmm...I wonder what that verse was?
2Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Interesting. Like when the song I wrote about last time popped into my head. Or the song that I heard tonight. Is my Daddy sending me scripture and songs? SOOOOOO not his style. But someone knew I needed to read it. I can't help but think it was him.
Last week on the 13th was 3 months since my Daddy passed away. I observed that day by finally watching the DVD that we made for his memorial. I won't lie and say it wasn't hard. But I was ready. I was ready to see my smiling, alive, funny Daddy. It didn't make me miss him more (because I don't think I can) or miss him less. It was just...him. Pictures of him with his friends, pictures of him with Mama, with K and I, and with his grandkids.
Last weekend Lulu shot her first pheasant while hunting at "Papa's lodge." She has a couple surrogate Papa's that will make sure she gets to hunt - something Daddy loved to do. He was so proud of her that day I know.
We all miss him terribly. Sometimes it's still hard to realize he is gone. My Mama's home phone number is still in my phone as "Mom and Dad home" and his cell phone number is still in my phone. I downloaded new ringtones last night and for just a moment was thinking of what would be funny for his. Then I realized that he doesn't need a ringtone anymore. Its those dumb things that send me into a crying jag, but I did find an awesome one for K and for my Mama :)
But if I didn't cry? I wouldn't be healing. I wouldn't be Alive like the song says. I don't want to be broken anymore....and I'm working on it.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Randomness
This may be the most random blog entry every but...eh...whatever :)
I'm annoyed at buying winter clothes for Gigi. It gets VERY cold here so I need warm, stylish AND affordable. Not finding much. Got her a coat, hat and mittens today. Paid $75 (!!) for boots but am returning them. That's ridiculous to spend for a 5 year old. I'm annoyed that I can't find anything that meets my standards (rated to at least -20 and removable liner). Apparently I have high ones.
Speaking of which...I stopped at a furniture store today. Found a bedroom set I love love LOVE. $10,000. $10,000!!! Are you kidding me? I saw another one I liked too $7,000. Of course those were "retail" prices and they were willing to knock 25% off. The saleswoman looked at me and told me I had expensive taste. Really? I already knew that. My Daddy taught me to appreciate nice furniture.
The political ads in South Dakota are getting absolutely ridculous. Stupid. Idiotic. I'm tired of mudslinging. I'm ready to vote for Miss Piggy instead of either candidate. Is it election day yet?
I got a new phone this week. An update of my old BlackBerry Curve. It's shiny and pink and I lurve it. Hopefully it will facilitate in me getting a new job. How? I'm not sure.
Anyway...I felt the need to have a blog post. And I don't really have much to say so I figured I'd rely on my natural sense of randomness.
You know what else is cool? Home Alone on TV. That rocks.
I'm annoyed at buying winter clothes for Gigi. It gets VERY cold here so I need warm, stylish AND affordable. Not finding much. Got her a coat, hat and mittens today. Paid $75 (!!) for boots but am returning them. That's ridiculous to spend for a 5 year old. I'm annoyed that I can't find anything that meets my standards (rated to at least -20 and removable liner). Apparently I have high ones.
Speaking of which...I stopped at a furniture store today. Found a bedroom set I love love LOVE. $10,000. $10,000!!! Are you kidding me? I saw another one I liked too $7,000. Of course those were "retail" prices and they were willing to knock 25% off. The saleswoman looked at me and told me I had expensive taste. Really? I already knew that. My Daddy taught me to appreciate nice furniture.
The political ads in South Dakota are getting absolutely ridculous. Stupid. Idiotic. I'm tired of mudslinging. I'm ready to vote for Miss Piggy instead of either candidate. Is it election day yet?
I got a new phone this week. An update of my old BlackBerry Curve. It's shiny and pink and I lurve it. Hopefully it will facilitate in me getting a new job. How? I'm not sure.
Anyway...I felt the need to have a blog post. And I don't really have much to say so I figured I'd rely on my natural sense of randomness.
You know what else is cool? Home Alone on TV. That rocks.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Good Message
Gigi and I went to church today after a fun filled day. It's homecoming at my alma mater so we hit the parade this morning (ask her how much candy she got) and then we went to the football game (ask us how wet we got when it started raining and we had walked to the game!). One of my good friends from college was here along with her husband and parents and it was AWESOME to see them this weekend. They had made the trek down for the memorial service but it was nice to actually be able to chat and remember our conversations (as I don't remember much about what happened in the week after my Daddy passed away). I have known these people since I was Gigi's age and they just enveloped us in love this weekend.
We have had unseasonably warm temps here in SoDak and we have taken advantage of that by spending any extra time outside enjoying the sunshine. I also was sick (strep throat a.k.a. 'school cooties') this week so pardon my weeklong absence.
At church tonight our wonderful Pastor preached on the gospel message of the one leper that returned to thank Jesus for healing. 10 lepers had been healed but only that ONE said thank you.
He told a story of how Satan had a rummage sale. At this rummage sale he had prices on things such as jealousy, anger and resentment. The thing that was the highest priced was off to the side and was priced the highest. That thing? Discouragement.
Ummmm...it's nice that Pastor Tim's writes his sermons JUST FOR ME, but maybe others could use a message every once in awhile? Kidding. I'm kidding...mostly.
You see, if you had talked to me in the last week you would realize just how much Satan has been knocking on my door. Discouraged I was. Discouraged I still am but I'm working on it.
Satan has been talking in my ear about how no one wants me. No one wants to even interview me. The intelligent part of me knows that a job will come...eventually. The intelligent part of me knows that I have a good (GREAT!) resume and the job market just absolutely SUCKS. The intelligent part of me even knows that I am in fact intelligent. I am not stupid.
Satan has told me that I am not intelligent, that I am not worth anything and that I am not loved. Satan overtook my brain for a few days with my discouragement.
You know what? Screw you Satan. I will NOT be discouraged anymore. Disappointed? Maybe occasionally. But I WILL count my blessings (and there are MANY) and I will not be discouraged. There is a song that Gigi learned in bible school based on Joshua 1:9 (I like the NIV translation of this verse the best)
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
And if you are singing the song you add an extra "wherever you go-o" on the end of it.
And counting my blessings...
*My wonderful neighbors (and friends!). The Ba's, the Bo's and the Z's have not only been a blessing because of their fantabulous children, but because of the friendships I have made. I live in a neighborhood where it takes a village and am LUCKY to be here.
*My church family who knows what I need to hear when I need to hear it.
*My friends that are visiting this weekend. It may have been a rocky road when we were young - but I adore my Sasa now and can't wait to meet her new little girl! Her husband is also great and her parents? My second set while we were in college.
*I am also thankful for the ability to be busy today. October 9th was my parents wedding anniversary. My Mama was busy with good friends today and I was busy too. Didn't lose it until the middle of church when Pastor Tim basically said, "Okay everyone else stop listening and I'm just going to talk to Tisti right now." (Okay FINE...he didn't actually say that but it sure felt like he should've!)
To be perfectly honest, this post is hard for me to hit publish on. Growing up I just always believed because that's what I was taught. Questioning came later, but I don't share my faith with people unless specifically asked. I'm Lutheran - we're polite and not pushy! We like potlucks with hotdishes (that'd be casseroles for anyone not from MN, SD, ND or IA).
I don't like feeling as though I may be judged for professing my faith and "talking" about how much my pastor's message hit me to the core. I know I have readers that run the gamut from athiest and agnostic to the other end of the spectrum and hope I haven't offended anyone. And now? I'm doing that people pleasing thing that my therapist says I'm supposed to stop doing! LOL.
After this busy weekend I'm also very thankful for Native American Day on Monday (what? You celebrate Columbus Day? SoDak doesn't. It's Native American Day here *rolleyes*) and an extra day off on Tuesday for Gigi and I to just chill and play and chill some more. I've missed my girl while she is at school!
We have had unseasonably warm temps here in SoDak and we have taken advantage of that by spending any extra time outside enjoying the sunshine. I also was sick (strep throat a.k.a. 'school cooties') this week so pardon my weeklong absence.
At church tonight our wonderful Pastor preached on the gospel message of the one leper that returned to thank Jesus for healing. 10 lepers had been healed but only that ONE said thank you.
He told a story of how Satan had a rummage sale. At this rummage sale he had prices on things such as jealousy, anger and resentment. The thing that was the highest priced was off to the side and was priced the highest. That thing? Discouragement.
Ummmm...it's nice that Pastor Tim's writes his sermons JUST FOR ME, but maybe others could use a message every once in awhile? Kidding. I'm kidding...mostly.
You see, if you had talked to me in the last week you would realize just how much Satan has been knocking on my door. Discouraged I was. Discouraged I still am but I'm working on it.
Satan has been talking in my ear about how no one wants me. No one wants to even interview me. The intelligent part of me knows that a job will come...eventually. The intelligent part of me knows that I have a good (GREAT!) resume and the job market just absolutely SUCKS. The intelligent part of me even knows that I am in fact intelligent. I am not stupid.
Satan has told me that I am not intelligent, that I am not worth anything and that I am not loved. Satan overtook my brain for a few days with my discouragement.
You know what? Screw you Satan. I will NOT be discouraged anymore. Disappointed? Maybe occasionally. But I WILL count my blessings (and there are MANY) and I will not be discouraged. There is a song that Gigi learned in bible school based on Joshua 1:9 (I like the NIV translation of this verse the best)
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
And if you are singing the song you add an extra "wherever you go-o" on the end of it.
And counting my blessings...
*My wonderful neighbors (and friends!). The Ba's, the Bo's and the Z's have not only been a blessing because of their fantabulous children, but because of the friendships I have made. I live in a neighborhood where it takes a village and am LUCKY to be here.
*My church family who knows what I need to hear when I need to hear it.
*My friends that are visiting this weekend. It may have been a rocky road when we were young - but I adore my Sasa now and can't wait to meet her new little girl! Her husband is also great and her parents? My second set while we were in college.
*I am also thankful for the ability to be busy today. October 9th was my parents wedding anniversary. My Mama was busy with good friends today and I was busy too. Didn't lose it until the middle of church when Pastor Tim basically said, "Okay everyone else stop listening and I'm just going to talk to Tisti right now." (Okay FINE...he didn't actually say that but it sure felt like he should've!)
To be perfectly honest, this post is hard for me to hit publish on. Growing up I just always believed because that's what I was taught. Questioning came later, but I don't share my faith with people unless specifically asked. I'm Lutheran - we're polite and not pushy! We like potlucks with hotdishes (that'd be casseroles for anyone not from MN, SD, ND or IA).
I don't like feeling as though I may be judged for professing my faith and "talking" about how much my pastor's message hit me to the core. I know I have readers that run the gamut from athiest and agnostic to the other end of the spectrum and hope I haven't offended anyone. And now? I'm doing that people pleasing thing that my therapist says I'm supposed to stop doing! LOL.
After this busy weekend I'm also very thankful for Native American Day on Monday (what? You celebrate Columbus Day? SoDak doesn't. It's Native American Day here *rolleyes*) and an extra day off on Tuesday for Gigi and I to just chill and play and chill some more. I've missed my girl while she is at school!
Friday, October 1, 2010
Counting my blessings...
It's been a tough week all around for me. But...and it's a big one...I need to count my blessings. I have a lot of them and hopefully this will help me remember them. Maybe every Friday I'll start counting 10 blessings or something. Hmmm...need a catchy title for that.
1. God - without faith, I would not be here. Seriously. It's the only thing that gets me through some days
2. Gigi - I mean really. How could I live without that little girl? The one who when she's driving me sort of crazy I say, "Could you just chill for a minute?" and she answers, "I left all my chills at home" with a shrug. Thank you for making me laugh every single day Gigi. I love you. I am grateful that I am able to share my life with her and that she is mine. I can't think of a cooler kiddo around.
3. My Mama - even when I do things that make her mad, or she makes me mad. I am grateful for her unconditional love - even when I don't deserve it.
4. My Daddy - I am grateful for 32 years with him. I have to remember the good times and not just dwell in the fact that I miss him.
5. K - ahhhh...my seester. I am grateful to her for doing things and making me laugh. Like call me to tell me that she clipped her kitty's toenails. That made me giggle and I needed it.
6. Lulu - my one and only niece - but a pretty cool one at that. I am thankful for her because she is just a great person. Not just a great teenager or great kid - but a great person.
7. Mo - he has spent a lot of time with my Mama this week and so I've seen him more than usual. I am thankful to him for pointing things out that I would never have ever noticed in a million years. Everywhere we go he finds Mustangs, Corvettes and other assorted cars. I also know waaaay more about Transformers than I ever thought I would.
8. Nono - my 4 year old nephew. His belly laugh makes me smile whenever I see him. I am grateful for him because of that belly laugh and because he reminds me so much of my dad. His looks, his attitude...his temper. There is a reason his nickname is "Little D"
9. Owie - little Owie...the baby at 3. This kid has dimples that would melt the Grinch's heart. He can do anything and flash those dimples and it's magically okay - or at least funny enough that we forget to get mad at him. I am grateful that he makes me laugh.
10. Steering off the sentimental path...I am grateful for my DVR. Seriously. I would marry it if I could. I am grateful for the technology that allows me to watch my favorite shows when *I* want to and grateful that we can record shows for Gigi so she has something to watch while she is winding down for bed.
So...my first 10 things for gratitude Friday (again...need a different name!). Feel free to share what YOU are grateful for.
1. God - without faith, I would not be here. Seriously. It's the only thing that gets me through some days
2. Gigi - I mean really. How could I live without that little girl? The one who when she's driving me sort of crazy I say, "Could you just chill for a minute?" and she answers, "I left all my chills at home" with a shrug. Thank you for making me laugh every single day Gigi. I love you. I am grateful that I am able to share my life with her and that she is mine. I can't think of a cooler kiddo around.
3. My Mama - even when I do things that make her mad, or she makes me mad. I am grateful for her unconditional love - even when I don't deserve it.
4. My Daddy - I am grateful for 32 years with him. I have to remember the good times and not just dwell in the fact that I miss him.
5. K - ahhhh...my seester. I am grateful to her for doing things and making me laugh. Like call me to tell me that she clipped her kitty's toenails. That made me giggle and I needed it.
6. Lulu - my one and only niece - but a pretty cool one at that. I am thankful for her because she is just a great person. Not just a great teenager or great kid - but a great person.
7. Mo - he has spent a lot of time with my Mama this week and so I've seen him more than usual. I am thankful to him for pointing things out that I would never have ever noticed in a million years. Everywhere we go he finds Mustangs, Corvettes and other assorted cars. I also know waaaay more about Transformers than I ever thought I would.
8. Nono - my 4 year old nephew. His belly laugh makes me smile whenever I see him. I am grateful for him because of that belly laugh and because he reminds me so much of my dad. His looks, his attitude...his temper. There is a reason his nickname is "Little D"
9. Owie - little Owie...the baby at 3. This kid has dimples that would melt the Grinch's heart. He can do anything and flash those dimples and it's magically okay - or at least funny enough that we forget to get mad at him. I am grateful that he makes me laugh.
10. Steering off the sentimental path...I am grateful for my DVR. Seriously. I would marry it if I could. I am grateful for the technology that allows me to watch my favorite shows when *I* want to and grateful that we can record shows for Gigi so she has something to watch while she is winding down for bed.
So...my first 10 things for gratitude Friday (again...need a different name!). Feel free to share what YOU are grateful for.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Someday...
Someday...
*I'm going to be at my Mama's house and NOT expect my Daddy to walk through the door at any moment and let us all in on this big cosmic joke.
*I will sit in his chair and not think I'm going to be kicked out by him
*I will actually become a working member of society again...somehow.
*I will not let every "thanks for applying, but we don't even want to talk to you" letter or e-mail send me into a tizzy of tears
*I will understand WHY.
It's been a tough week. Sunday I had another flood in the basement. This time for real. Ankle deep water. My wonderful Mama came over and helped me move everything and luckily the only things lost were the carpet in the storage room and some stuff that didn't matter anyway. Thank God for plastic storage tubs! (the source of the flood was my washing machine which somehow got stuck on a continual fill and empty cycle and a drain that was clogged - it is now fixed. I think.)
I am very frustrated right now. I am a college educated hard working person. And I cannot get a job. I see job listings or hear about something that is in my field, that I'm perfectly qualified for and am not even getting interviews for. I'm sick of the economy. I'm sick of being unemployed. I'm sick of the beating my self esteem takes on a daily basis.
I'm sick of the long days when Gigi is at school. I have a 1,439,403 things to do at home but cannot get motivated to do them. I am sad. I am lonely. I am feeling beat up. I want to have somewhere to go and something to do. I want to be a productive member of society again and be able to stop worrying about how I'm going to pay for my mortgage. I want to be able to not have to tell my daughter, "I'm sorry honey but until Mama has a job we can't do that...or buy that...or go there."
Most of all I want my Daddy here to kick my butt and tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself.
*I'm going to be at my Mama's house and NOT expect my Daddy to walk through the door at any moment and let us all in on this big cosmic joke.
*I will sit in his chair and not think I'm going to be kicked out by him
*I will actually become a working member of society again...somehow.
*I will not let every "thanks for applying, but we don't even want to talk to you" letter or e-mail send me into a tizzy of tears
*I will understand WHY.
It's been a tough week. Sunday I had another flood in the basement. This time for real. Ankle deep water. My wonderful Mama came over and helped me move everything and luckily the only things lost were the carpet in the storage room and some stuff that didn't matter anyway. Thank God for plastic storage tubs! (the source of the flood was my washing machine which somehow got stuck on a continual fill and empty cycle and a drain that was clogged - it is now fixed. I think.)
I am very frustrated right now. I am a college educated hard working person. And I cannot get a job. I see job listings or hear about something that is in my field, that I'm perfectly qualified for and am not even getting interviews for. I'm sick of the economy. I'm sick of being unemployed. I'm sick of the beating my self esteem takes on a daily basis.
I'm sick of the long days when Gigi is at school. I have a 1,439,403 things to do at home but cannot get motivated to do them. I am sad. I am lonely. I am feeling beat up. I want to have somewhere to go and something to do. I want to be a productive member of society again and be able to stop worrying about how I'm going to pay for my mortgage. I want to be able to not have to tell my daughter, "I'm sorry honey but until Mama has a job we can't do that...or buy that...or go there."
Most of all I want my Daddy here to kick my butt and tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
White Pickups...
I saw a Ford F150 white 4 door pickup yesterday. My first thought when I see a vehicle like that is my Daddy. He had one for what seems like years and years but really was only a couple years. But drove the heck out of it.
I remember taking many trips to see K and the kids in that pickup. Or a trip to Chamberlain. It was so my Daddy. Big and rugged and a workhorse.
Thinking about that brought me back to other memories. My biggest fear is that people are going to forget my Daddy. That they are going to forget the good things he did, or the people he loved. I want people to know that he MATTERED. To more than just me, My Mama, K and the kiddos. He MATTERED to the world.
As he lay dying in the hospital my Mama started recieving e-mails with memories in them. She shared a couple with me and the love that my dad's friends had for him is awesome. They knew he could be brusk and abrupt - but also still respected him. He could sell snow to the Eskimos and taught me how to talk to people. Anyone that knows me IRL knows that I can talk to anyone, anytime about anything...and I probably will. That's what my dad taught me.
He taught me that everyone has a story. Everyone is interesting. Everyone deserves to know they MATTER. I knew I mattered to my Daddy and that is important to me. I also received a very thoughtful e-mail from one of my Mama's friends (thanks TPO!) that let me know just how much I matter to my Mama. I knew that I did - but it is nice to hear it from others.
As I travel this path that I haven't travelled before, I feel like I'm writing the story. I am in charge of how I deal and what I do. Monday? I didn't cry. I DIDN'T CRY. This is the first day since probably mid June that I didn't cry. That is a big deal and a big step towards the magic called "healing."
Part of me doesn't want to "heal." Part of me wants to keep my memories and my feelings and my emotions as raw as possible. As the days pass, time takes me further and further away from Daddy. From my ALIVE Daddy. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget how fiercely loved he was and is. I don't want people to think that I'm magically just okay and not ask me about him.
I want to talk about him. I want to tell stories that make me laugh. I don't want to cry but sometimes the grief sneaks up and I will cry when I'm talking about him. I want to tell the world about how one Sunday afternoon my Daddy decided that Gigi needed to experience a "real county fair." We (my Mama, Daddy, Gigi and I) piled into the white pickup and drove for what seemed like hours but was probably just 30 minutes. We pulled into the town where the "real" county fair was and the fair was....gone. The "real county fair" was from Monday - Saturday. We tried to go on Sunday. My Mama and Daddy chalked it up to a nice Sunday drive and we all laughed.
My Daddy loved to drive. He could drive and drive and drive. Nevermind that his 12 year old daughter in the backseat was beyond embarassed and worried as he tried to navigate through southwestern Minnesota by the sun. BY THE SUN. There were maps people! This was pre-GPS days but my Daddy decided to drive around and look at some flood waters and then take every single backroad he could and navigated home by the sun. I was mortified. There was no one with us so I don't know WHY it bothered me so much - but I'm a map person. He did get us home. We occasionally had to turn around because the road stopped or became a small township gravel road. And of course it took us twice as long - but we got home.
He always got us home. Probably not on them road most travelled...but he got us home. He loved backroads and hated interstates. "You don't see anything REAL on the interstate," he would say. Friends and I drove to Texas one spring break and he mapped out our course. Through tiny towns and 55 mph signs we made it - had fun and maybe took a little longer. But we got to see country that we wouldn't have if we would've stuck to the main roads.
So today? Anywhere I go I'm not going to take my normal route. In honor of my Daddy today I'm going to take the backroads (which will include just residential streets and not the main streets LOL). And I'll get where I'm going - with a little more scenery.
I remember taking many trips to see K and the kids in that pickup. Or a trip to Chamberlain. It was so my Daddy. Big and rugged and a workhorse.
Thinking about that brought me back to other memories. My biggest fear is that people are going to forget my Daddy. That they are going to forget the good things he did, or the people he loved. I want people to know that he MATTERED. To more than just me, My Mama, K and the kiddos. He MATTERED to the world.
As he lay dying in the hospital my Mama started recieving e-mails with memories in them. She shared a couple with me and the love that my dad's friends had for him is awesome. They knew he could be brusk and abrupt - but also still respected him. He could sell snow to the Eskimos and taught me how to talk to people. Anyone that knows me IRL knows that I can talk to anyone, anytime about anything...and I probably will. That's what my dad taught me.
He taught me that everyone has a story. Everyone is interesting. Everyone deserves to know they MATTER. I knew I mattered to my Daddy and that is important to me. I also received a very thoughtful e-mail from one of my Mama's friends (thanks TPO!) that let me know just how much I matter to my Mama. I knew that I did - but it is nice to hear it from others.
As I travel this path that I haven't travelled before, I feel like I'm writing the story. I am in charge of how I deal and what I do. Monday? I didn't cry. I DIDN'T CRY. This is the first day since probably mid June that I didn't cry. That is a big deal and a big step towards the magic called "healing."
Part of me doesn't want to "heal." Part of me wants to keep my memories and my feelings and my emotions as raw as possible. As the days pass, time takes me further and further away from Daddy. From my ALIVE Daddy. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget how fiercely loved he was and is. I don't want people to think that I'm magically just okay and not ask me about him.
I want to talk about him. I want to tell stories that make me laugh. I don't want to cry but sometimes the grief sneaks up and I will cry when I'm talking about him. I want to tell the world about how one Sunday afternoon my Daddy decided that Gigi needed to experience a "real county fair." We (my Mama, Daddy, Gigi and I) piled into the white pickup and drove for what seemed like hours but was probably just 30 minutes. We pulled into the town where the "real" county fair was and the fair was....gone. The "real county fair" was from Monday - Saturday. We tried to go on Sunday. My Mama and Daddy chalked it up to a nice Sunday drive and we all laughed.
My Daddy loved to drive. He could drive and drive and drive. Nevermind that his 12 year old daughter in the backseat was beyond embarassed and worried as he tried to navigate through southwestern Minnesota by the sun. BY THE SUN. There were maps people! This was pre-GPS days but my Daddy decided to drive around and look at some flood waters and then take every single backroad he could and navigated home by the sun. I was mortified. There was no one with us so I don't know WHY it bothered me so much - but I'm a map person. He did get us home. We occasionally had to turn around because the road stopped or became a small township gravel road. And of course it took us twice as long - but we got home.
He always got us home. Probably not on them road most travelled...but he got us home. He loved backroads and hated interstates. "You don't see anything REAL on the interstate," he would say. Friends and I drove to Texas one spring break and he mapped out our course. Through tiny towns and 55 mph signs we made it - had fun and maybe took a little longer. But we got to see country that we wouldn't have if we would've stuck to the main roads.
So today? Anywhere I go I'm not going to take my normal route. In honor of my Daddy today I'm going to take the backroads (which will include just residential streets and not the main streets LOL). And I'll get where I'm going - with a little more scenery.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Attitude
The saying goes, "Attitude is EVERYTHING."
And it is. Attitude *is* everything. When my Daddy was first diagnosed the doctor told us that. That his attitude would determine his fate basically.
You know what sucks? His attitude DIDN'T determine his fate. I have never seen anyone have a better attitude when facing someting as serious as brain cancer. My Daddy was a fighter, he fought HARD. He worked HARD to get back on his feet literally. He worked hard in speech therapy and physical therapy and occupational therapy to gain back as much as he could.
He knew that glioblastomas weren't 'beatable.' He knew that he probably had 5 years at the most. The radiologist told him the longest he'd had a patient live with a glioblastoma was 5 years. My Daddy was going to live for 6. He was fighter. He was stubborn and wasn't going to let something like a brain tumor get him down.
I wish in my Daddy's case that attitude WAS everything because he would still be on this earth with us right now. I have a hard time hearing stories of people who have beat their illness that they weren't supposed to beat. Don't get me wrong, I rejoice with them and I still pray for them - but I have a hard time hearing of others beating the unbeatable. I feel like if someone was going to beat the unbeatable - it should've been my Daddy. Afterall, he had the right attitude. He had the fight. He had the determination and yes, he had the stubborness.
A few weeks ago someone said, "It just went so fast. He must have been ready to go." It was not meant to be a put down for my Daddy. But the first place my head went was NO...he was not ready to "go." He was in the very end but my Daddy was a fighter. I told this person through my angry hot tears, "He fought REALLY HARD." And he did. I feel the need to defend his fight...his attitude.
You see, some people are given a diagnosis such as my dad's and they give up. Why fight the inevitable? Why fight a disease that is going to ravage your body...yourself. My Daddy did NOT have that attitude. He had a fight until the bitter end attitude.
It's weird...I hear stories of people suffering a fate similar to my dad's and I want to will them to beat it. I pray and pray and want to send all the energy I can to their family and friends to help them fight it. Because that's what my dad would want.
So if you tell me a story of someone who beat the odds, I may cry. I may sob in fact. I'm still getting over the fact that my Daddy did everything right in regards to attitude. I'm angry that in my Daddy's case attitude didn't make him live longer. It didn't make him beat the unbeatable. It's not fair.
Yup, I said it. IT'S NOT FAIR. But life isn't fair. We lose people we love. Awesome people are dealt heavy blows. In my Daddy's case attitude WASN'T everything - but I'm still choosing to live my life with that old saying.
On another note, it's funny how I can be laughing and joking one moment and crying the next with a simple word. Not even a word such as 'glioblastoma' or 'brain cancer.' The word that set me off last night? Decadron. Don't know what it is? It's a steroid. A powerful one. It's the last drug that we took my dad off of besides the pain medication. We were hoping that keeping him on the Decadron would help with the swelling in his brain so we could get a few more sentences or alert moments out of him. Didn't work, but we tried.
So for the people at my meeting last night...I apologize that a simple word sent me into a tailspin. I was actually having the best time I've had for awhile and was laughing - usually that doesn't happen unless Gigi or one of my nephews is around. So thanks for laughing with me. And thanks for the hugs and for crying with me. :)
And it is. Attitude *is* everything. When my Daddy was first diagnosed the doctor told us that. That his attitude would determine his fate basically.
You know what sucks? His attitude DIDN'T determine his fate. I have never seen anyone have a better attitude when facing someting as serious as brain cancer. My Daddy was a fighter, he fought HARD. He worked HARD to get back on his feet literally. He worked hard in speech therapy and physical therapy and occupational therapy to gain back as much as he could.
He knew that glioblastomas weren't 'beatable.' He knew that he probably had 5 years at the most. The radiologist told him the longest he'd had a patient live with a glioblastoma was 5 years. My Daddy was going to live for 6. He was fighter. He was stubborn and wasn't going to let something like a brain tumor get him down.
I wish in my Daddy's case that attitude WAS everything because he would still be on this earth with us right now. I have a hard time hearing stories of people who have beat their illness that they weren't supposed to beat. Don't get me wrong, I rejoice with them and I still pray for them - but I have a hard time hearing of others beating the unbeatable. I feel like if someone was going to beat the unbeatable - it should've been my Daddy. Afterall, he had the right attitude. He had the fight. He had the determination and yes, he had the stubborness.
A few weeks ago someone said, "It just went so fast. He must have been ready to go." It was not meant to be a put down for my Daddy. But the first place my head went was NO...he was not ready to "go." He was in the very end but my Daddy was a fighter. I told this person through my angry hot tears, "He fought REALLY HARD." And he did. I feel the need to defend his fight...his attitude.
You see, some people are given a diagnosis such as my dad's and they give up. Why fight the inevitable? Why fight a disease that is going to ravage your body...yourself. My Daddy did NOT have that attitude. He had a fight until the bitter end attitude.
It's weird...I hear stories of people suffering a fate similar to my dad's and I want to will them to beat it. I pray and pray and want to send all the energy I can to their family and friends to help them fight it. Because that's what my dad would want.
So if you tell me a story of someone who beat the odds, I may cry. I may sob in fact. I'm still getting over the fact that my Daddy did everything right in regards to attitude. I'm angry that in my Daddy's case attitude didn't make him live longer. It didn't make him beat the unbeatable. It's not fair.
Yup, I said it. IT'S NOT FAIR. But life isn't fair. We lose people we love. Awesome people are dealt heavy blows. In my Daddy's case attitude WASN'T everything - but I'm still choosing to live my life with that old saying.
On another note, it's funny how I can be laughing and joking one moment and crying the next with a simple word. Not even a word such as 'glioblastoma' or 'brain cancer.' The word that set me off last night? Decadron. Don't know what it is? It's a steroid. A powerful one. It's the last drug that we took my dad off of besides the pain medication. We were hoping that keeping him on the Decadron would help with the swelling in his brain so we could get a few more sentences or alert moments out of him. Didn't work, but we tried.
So for the people at my meeting last night...I apologize that a simple word sent me into a tailspin. I was actually having the best time I've had for awhile and was laughing - usually that doesn't happen unless Gigi or one of my nephews is around. So thanks for laughing with me. And thanks for the hugs and for crying with me. :)
Monday, September 13, 2010
Two Months
2 months. 8 1/2 weeks. 61 Days. 1464 hours. 87,840 minutes.
That is approximately how long this earth has been without my Daddy. That is how long I've been without my Daddy.
I don't have anything to say really except for that I love and miss him. Terribly.
I keep telling myself that the dates have no power over me. The day is just that...a day. And sometime it will be just another day. When the 13th of the month rolls around someday it will just be the 13th of the month and not a monthiversary of the day my Daddy left this earth.
But today? The day does have power. I'm sad. But I'm remembering the good things.
That is approximately how long this earth has been without my Daddy. That is how long I've been without my Daddy.
I don't have anything to say really except for that I love and miss him. Terribly.
I keep telling myself that the dates have no power over me. The day is just that...a day. And sometime it will be just another day. When the 13th of the month rolls around someday it will just be the 13th of the month and not a monthiversary of the day my Daddy left this earth.
But today? The day does have power. I'm sad. But I'm remembering the good things.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A Positive
I realized today (on this Grandparents Day - my Daddy was one of the good ones) that when I picture my Dad - when I think about him - my first picture of him in my mind is not those last few days in the hospital. It's not as sad to think about him anymore.
I still do have those pictures in my mind, but today? Today when I thought of him my first thought was of his eyes the night I said goodbye. The eyes that said, "I understand." The eyes that said, "I love you too." The eyes that said, "I'm proud to be your dad."
And that? Is a positive step towards healing.
I still do have those pictures in my mind, but today? Today when I thought of him my first thought was of his eyes the night I said goodbye. The eyes that said, "I understand." The eyes that said, "I love you too." The eyes that said, "I'm proud to be your dad."
And that? Is a positive step towards healing.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Homesick
Last night was a tough night for some reason. It was one of those gut-wrenching-literal-pain-in-my-heart nights. I cried and cried. Finally cried myself to sleep about 2:00 am.
While on the computer last night I stumbled upon the following song (it's amazing what you find when you Google "Sad Christian songs.") It actually didn't upload to my iPod before bed last night or I probably would've cried even harder. I wanted to listen to it but it somehow didn't upload.
I flounder about the day feeling like I have no where to belong. My home isn't comfortable because it makes me miss my Daddy. My Mama's house makes me miss my Daddy. Its a similar feeling to when my parents sold the house I grew up in. I didn't feel like I had a "home" to go to anymore. Little did I realize then how soon their new house would become "home" because that's where the family was. Home really is where my family is.
But part of my family is missing. Part of my heart is gone. He is in Heaven waiting for us, but here on earth we miss him. A.LOT. Someday we will get to see him in our heavenly home and we won't be homesick anymore.
For now, we grieve. We wait. We feel homesick. We cling to each other through this process. We have no control over our emotions.
On this anniversary of 9/11 I look back to where I was that day and how lost I felt then. That was nothing like the feeling I have now, but it was the first time that I felt many of these feelings that I am experiencing now. I didn't know anyone that perished that day but had a connection somehow to them. They were just going about their regular lives, working their regular days and someone decided to take their lives from them.
My Mama and I had visited the World Trade Center in April of 2001. We ate dinner at the 'Top of the World.' My boyfriend at the time (now my ex-husband) was working IN the towers for a month for training. We went to visit him and he proudly showed off the wonder that was the Twin Towers. We have goofy pictures of us at the top on the observation deck and in the gift shop. Just a short 5 months later those buildings would be...gone. An amazing wonder of arcitecture and American Spirit...reduced to a large pile of rubble.
I have not been back to NYC since then. I hope to get there someday and visit the site that I have seen and heard and read so much about. I hope to visit the memorial and pray for the victims families like I do here but have some sort of connection to what happened that awful day. I can't believe it's been 9 years.
Someday I hope I can look back and read this and see how much I was struggling at this point. I hope I can look back and see a different person - I hope I can see how broken I truly am but I hope by that point that I have learned to live with the brokenness and not be so sad everyday anymore.
While on the computer last night I stumbled upon the following song (it's amazing what you find when you Google "Sad Christian songs.") It actually didn't upload to my iPod before bed last night or I probably would've cried even harder. I wanted to listen to it but it somehow didn't upload.
HOMESICK
You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
Help me Lord cause I don't understand your ways
The reason why I wonder if I'll ever know
But, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same
Cause I'm still here so far away from home
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
In Christ, there are no goodbyes
And in Christ, there is no end
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have
To see you again
To see you again
And I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
-MercyMeYou see, I had an entire post on how I was homesick before I even heard of this song. Yes, I live in my own house. Yes, I have my own family. But I no longer have 'my parents' home to go to. It's my Mama's house. Somethings missing there. SomeONE is missing there.
I flounder about the day feeling like I have no where to belong. My home isn't comfortable because it makes me miss my Daddy. My Mama's house makes me miss my Daddy. Its a similar feeling to when my parents sold the house I grew up in. I didn't feel like I had a "home" to go to anymore. Little did I realize then how soon their new house would become "home" because that's where the family was. Home really is where my family is.
But part of my family is missing. Part of my heart is gone. He is in Heaven waiting for us, but here on earth we miss him. A.LOT. Someday we will get to see him in our heavenly home and we won't be homesick anymore.
For now, we grieve. We wait. We feel homesick. We cling to each other through this process. We have no control over our emotions.
On this anniversary of 9/11 I look back to where I was that day and how lost I felt then. That was nothing like the feeling I have now, but it was the first time that I felt many of these feelings that I am experiencing now. I didn't know anyone that perished that day but had a connection somehow to them. They were just going about their regular lives, working their regular days and someone decided to take their lives from them.
My Mama and I had visited the World Trade Center in April of 2001. We ate dinner at the 'Top of the World.' My boyfriend at the time (now my ex-husband) was working IN the towers for a month for training. We went to visit him and he proudly showed off the wonder that was the Twin Towers. We have goofy pictures of us at the top on the observation deck and in the gift shop. Just a short 5 months later those buildings would be...gone. An amazing wonder of arcitecture and American Spirit...reduced to a large pile of rubble.
I have not been back to NYC since then. I hope to get there someday and visit the site that I have seen and heard and read so much about. I hope to visit the memorial and pray for the victims families like I do here but have some sort of connection to what happened that awful day. I can't believe it's been 9 years.
Someday I hope I can look back and read this and see how much I was struggling at this point. I hope I can look back and see a different person - I hope I can see how broken I truly am but I hope by that point that I have learned to live with the brokenness and not be so sad everyday anymore.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Sneaky Grief
Most days I go about my day - normal but with a bit of sadness. Some days I wake up sad and am just in the sad funk all day. Some days I wake up and think "this is the day that I will go without shedding a tear" and the grief sneaks up on me.
I am having ginormous motivation issues. GINORMOUS. Gigi is at school, I have no job, I have NOTHING to do but clean and organize my house. But yet? I don't. I don't know why.
It may be tied to the fact that my house *is* my dad. My dad came with me to buy it. My told TOLD me to buy it and that he would help me fix it up. I had a 'Daddy Do' list instead of a 'honey do' list. My Mama told me when I got my house cleaned up and organized that she would help me and get a handyman to help finish the projects that are started. I don't WANT a handyman to finish the projects my dad started. I want my dad to do it. (picture me with my arms crossed like a defiant toddler).
My mess is somehow comforting to me. Comfort in knowing that no one else is going to come in and do these projects. Like I'm waiting for my dad to come down from Heaven to do it or something. I am comforted by having a mess around me. Don't go all "Hoarders" on me because I don't hoard. I just am not organized at my house. My Mama is going to try though!
Today I had all day to get stuff done. ALLLLLL day. What did I get done? Not much. I am pretty darn good at Bubble Pop on Facebook though. Truth is...even with two antidepressants and one anti anxiety med...I'm depressed. I want to sleep my life away. When Gigi is home I have to be a productive person - she needs to be fed, bathed, read to, etc. When she is at school or with her dad? I'm a lump. L.U.M.P. I find comfort in that too. I keep hoping that one day I will wake up and my motivation will just be there. That somehow in my sleep my Daddy's energizer bunnyish ways (totally words!) will be transferred to me and I will magically get things done. Not happening.
Besides getting nothing done today I had an okay day. I wasn't particularly sad or melancholy. I went to pick Gigi up at church and we had supper there. Sat with a woman from our congregation who knows me and Gigi and knew of my mom and dad but never realized they were my parents or that I was their daughter. She asked how the job search went this summer and I immediately got choked up and told her my dad had passed away. She asked why. I told her. Then I mentioned that she knew who my parents were and the moment of recognition hit her face and immediately I got the "I'm so so sorry" look.
I did my best to hold back the tears but they sneak up so quickly. Grief is a sneaky little thing. She asked if we got quality time. Quality time? Well, yes. Enough time? Not in a million zillion years. I don't thing an infinite amount of time would have been enough.
Many people see me in public, at church or dropping Gigi off at school. I'm told how strong I am...how well I've handled "things." Things being what...being a single mom, my dad getting terminally ill, dying a short two months later, losing my job, having no money and having no idea how to pay my freaking bills..."things." I'm glad that they think I'm doing well.
The truth? I'm not. I'm a mess. I feel like I could breakdown and cry at any given moment whether it is appropriate or not. I struggle day to day with motivation. I struggle to not come back after getting Gigi off to school and just lay in my bed languishing the day away. I struggle. There will be glimmers of hope - a day full of laundry washing perhaps - but that is followed by days and days of darkness.
I'm overwhelmed. I'm sad. I'm depressed. Someday? I won't be. I just have to keep looking for that silver lining and for the days that grief doesn't sneak up on me.
I am having ginormous motivation issues. GINORMOUS. Gigi is at school, I have no job, I have NOTHING to do but clean and organize my house. But yet? I don't. I don't know why.
It may be tied to the fact that my house *is* my dad. My dad came with me to buy it. My told TOLD me to buy it and that he would help me fix it up. I had a 'Daddy Do' list instead of a 'honey do' list. My Mama told me when I got my house cleaned up and organized that she would help me and get a handyman to help finish the projects that are started. I don't WANT a handyman to finish the projects my dad started. I want my dad to do it. (picture me with my arms crossed like a defiant toddler).
My mess is somehow comforting to me. Comfort in knowing that no one else is going to come in and do these projects. Like I'm waiting for my dad to come down from Heaven to do it or something. I am comforted by having a mess around me. Don't go all "Hoarders" on me because I don't hoard. I just am not organized at my house. My Mama is going to try though!
Today I had all day to get stuff done. ALLLLLL day. What did I get done? Not much. I am pretty darn good at Bubble Pop on Facebook though. Truth is...even with two antidepressants and one anti anxiety med...I'm depressed. I want to sleep my life away. When Gigi is home I have to be a productive person - she needs to be fed, bathed, read to, etc. When she is at school or with her dad? I'm a lump. L.U.M.P. I find comfort in that too. I keep hoping that one day I will wake up and my motivation will just be there. That somehow in my sleep my Daddy's energizer bunnyish ways (totally words!) will be transferred to me and I will magically get things done. Not happening.
Besides getting nothing done today I had an okay day. I wasn't particularly sad or melancholy. I went to pick Gigi up at church and we had supper there. Sat with a woman from our congregation who knows me and Gigi and knew of my mom and dad but never realized they were my parents or that I was their daughter. She asked how the job search went this summer and I immediately got choked up and told her my dad had passed away. She asked why. I told her. Then I mentioned that she knew who my parents were and the moment of recognition hit her face and immediately I got the "I'm so so sorry" look.
I did my best to hold back the tears but they sneak up so quickly. Grief is a sneaky little thing. She asked if we got quality time. Quality time? Well, yes. Enough time? Not in a million zillion years. I don't thing an infinite amount of time would have been enough.
Many people see me in public, at church or dropping Gigi off at school. I'm told how strong I am...how well I've handled "things." Things being what...being a single mom, my dad getting terminally ill, dying a short two months later, losing my job, having no money and having no idea how to pay my freaking bills..."things." I'm glad that they think I'm doing well.
The truth? I'm not. I'm a mess. I feel like I could breakdown and cry at any given moment whether it is appropriate or not. I struggle day to day with motivation. I struggle to not come back after getting Gigi off to school and just lay in my bed languishing the day away. I struggle. There will be glimmers of hope - a day full of laundry washing perhaps - but that is followed by days and days of darkness.
I'm overwhelmed. I'm sad. I'm depressed. Someday? I won't be. I just have to keep looking for that silver lining and for the days that grief doesn't sneak up on me.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
People Change
I feel the need to tell everyone reading this...growing up? My dad and I didn't get along. AT.ALL.
When I was younger (like 18 and younger) my dad was not my favorite. Horrible to say yes, but I was a Mama's girl. My dad used to try to get K and I out of my Mama's hair on Saturday mornings and I flat out refused to go with him. He and K made a cross country road trip. Again, I would not go. That long in the car with my dad AND my sister? Not happening.
As I entered my tween and teen years - things went from bad to worse. My dad traveled for work and was home on the weekends. I looked at those times as him intruding on our little family of Mama, K and I. I was mean to him and he wasn't always understanding of me either.
I'm stubborn. My dad was stubborn. We fought about EVERYTHING. Mostly food, but a lot of other things too. My Mama told me I needed to listen to my dad. I didn't. After all, who was he to waltz in our house and change our routines? I see now how difficult it had to be to come home to a bratty kid like me. It's a good thing I've grown up, eh?
I was a picky eater. I stopped eating red meat for a long time (like 12 years) and that pissed my dad off to NO END. The meat and potatoes guy and me who would only eat chicken. I stopped because of a stupid dream and didn't start again because it was kind of fun to make my dad that angry by simply refusing to eat something. Bratty attitude and I hope Gigi doesn't follow suit.
My dad and I were like oil and water. It was just best to keep us apart because if we were together it was likely to be explosive. I was a Drama Queen and he didn't handle that well.
The year I went to college...things started to change. My dad moved me into my dorm room, laid my carpet, put together everything that needed to be put together and then? They left. My Mama and my Daddy got in their green pickup and drove out of the parking lot as I looked out my window with the tears rolling down my face. How could they just leave and not be sad? I learned later that both of them were sad but put on pretty brave faces for me.
Living on my own in a dorm room - I learned to appreciate my dad a little. They would come down to look at houses (at this point they had decided to leave the town I grew up in and move to where my school was - I tease that it was because they missed me so much but there were various reasons) and I would have my dad fix something for me. I would need a new lamp, or my dorm room door didn't open properly (as an aside did you know that you can actually bring a circular SAW into a dorm and cut off the bottom of the door and no one will blink an eye at you??). They moved here and their new house became "home."
It wasn't just home for me, but also my friends. We would go to my parents house for a hot tub night, a grilling night (with my dad manning the grill of course) or just to go. My sophomore year of college I got really sick and was hospitalized for 12 long days. Those days I realized just how lucky I was that my family was not only living in the same town as me, but also were just THERE for me.
When I moved into a house off campus my dad became more and more handy to me. By this point - I realized that maybe he was a pretty cool guy and that he didn't deserve my brattiness when I was young.
Life went on. I kept realizing that maybe...just maybe...the reason that my dad and I fought so much was because of certain parts of our personality were alike. Stubborn much?
I didn't really appreciate my Daddy fully until the day that he moved Gigi and I out of our townhouse and brought us home. I never knew the strength he had or the fierceness of his protection until that day. I'd never needed to know it. But that day? He would've killed someone to make sure we were safe.
Gigi and I lived with Daddy and Mama for four years. Four years as an adult getting to know my parents...as adults. My Daddy was pretty cool. I looked to him for all sorts of advice. I looked to him as a mentor and not just my Daddy.
My Mama told me not long after Gigi was born that my Dad had told her, "She was ready to be a mom. She's going to be a good one. I'm proud of her." My Daddy? Was proud of ME. He was proud of the one thing that I think I'm good at. Being a mom.
I was proud of my Daddy. I didn't realize until after he was gone how many lives he had touched...how many people he mentored...or just how many people loved him. I loved him.
I am so happy that I was able to redeem my bratty kid self as an adult. I am happy that I left nothing unsaid to my Daddy. I am happy that he knew how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I am happy to know that he was at peace at the end and knew he was headed for a better place. I am happy that I took the last few months of his life to appreciate my Daddy and realize how much he meant to me.
At least I thought I knew how much he meant to me. It wasn't until after he died that I realized just how BIG the whole would be in my life...in my heart...with him gone. I didn't realize how angry I would be that he was so young when he died and angry that he will not be around to be Papa to Gigi anymore. He was one of the good ones...he loved his grandkids just like he loved his kids. It's a shame I didn't see that love when I was a child, but do feel as though I see it now.
In the last few days I was not able to sit in my dad's hospital room like my Mama could or K could. I couldn't see my strong Daddy in pain or uncomfortable or just not HIM. I would go in every so often just to see him and tell him how much I loved him. I didn't want to remember him that way - but yet those are the most prevalent memories now. I hope someday that the memories that come to me immediately are happy ones and the bad ones are gone.
I haven't had the heart to have Gigi stop saying "God Bless Papa" in her nightly prayers. We do the old "Now I lay me down to sleep..." standard but add on our special God Bless's at the end. It's automatic to say "God Bless Grandma and Papa...K and P..." I just can't have her stop. He still deserves to be blessed in Heaven, right?
"Not a good day today. First of all, I had to hurry in the shower and didn't get all the conditioner washed out. And my dad is home. That is NEVER a good day. Sometimes I wonder why he even comes home"
-a diary entry by 12 year old me
When I was younger (like 18 and younger) my dad was not my favorite. Horrible to say yes, but I was a Mama's girl. My dad used to try to get K and I out of my Mama's hair on Saturday mornings and I flat out refused to go with him. He and K made a cross country road trip. Again, I would not go. That long in the car with my dad AND my sister? Not happening.
As I entered my tween and teen years - things went from bad to worse. My dad traveled for work and was home on the weekends. I looked at those times as him intruding on our little family of Mama, K and I. I was mean to him and he wasn't always understanding of me either.
I'm stubborn. My dad was stubborn. We fought about EVERYTHING. Mostly food, but a lot of other things too. My Mama told me I needed to listen to my dad. I didn't. After all, who was he to waltz in our house and change our routines? I see now how difficult it had to be to come home to a bratty kid like me. It's a good thing I've grown up, eh?
I was a picky eater. I stopped eating red meat for a long time (like 12 years) and that pissed my dad off to NO END. The meat and potatoes guy and me who would only eat chicken. I stopped because of a stupid dream and didn't start again because it was kind of fun to make my dad that angry by simply refusing to eat something. Bratty attitude and I hope Gigi doesn't follow suit.
My dad and I were like oil and water. It was just best to keep us apart because if we were together it was likely to be explosive. I was a Drama Queen and he didn't handle that well.
The year I went to college...things started to change. My dad moved me into my dorm room, laid my carpet, put together everything that needed to be put together and then? They left. My Mama and my Daddy got in their green pickup and drove out of the parking lot as I looked out my window with the tears rolling down my face. How could they just leave and not be sad? I learned later that both of them were sad but put on pretty brave faces for me.
Living on my own in a dorm room - I learned to appreciate my dad a little. They would come down to look at houses (at this point they had decided to leave the town I grew up in and move to where my school was - I tease that it was because they missed me so much but there were various reasons) and I would have my dad fix something for me. I would need a new lamp, or my dorm room door didn't open properly (as an aside did you know that you can actually bring a circular SAW into a dorm and cut off the bottom of the door and no one will blink an eye at you??). They moved here and their new house became "home."
It wasn't just home for me, but also my friends. We would go to my parents house for a hot tub night, a grilling night (with my dad manning the grill of course) or just to go. My sophomore year of college I got really sick and was hospitalized for 12 long days. Those days I realized just how lucky I was that my family was not only living in the same town as me, but also were just THERE for me.
When I moved into a house off campus my dad became more and more handy to me. By this point - I realized that maybe he was a pretty cool guy and that he didn't deserve my brattiness when I was young.
Life went on. I kept realizing that maybe...just maybe...the reason that my dad and I fought so much was because of certain parts of our personality were alike. Stubborn much?
I didn't really appreciate my Daddy fully until the day that he moved Gigi and I out of our townhouse and brought us home. I never knew the strength he had or the fierceness of his protection until that day. I'd never needed to know it. But that day? He would've killed someone to make sure we were safe.
Gigi and I lived with Daddy and Mama for four years. Four years as an adult getting to know my parents...as adults. My Daddy was pretty cool. I looked to him for all sorts of advice. I looked to him as a mentor and not just my Daddy.
My Mama told me not long after Gigi was born that my Dad had told her, "She was ready to be a mom. She's going to be a good one. I'm proud of her." My Daddy? Was proud of ME. He was proud of the one thing that I think I'm good at. Being a mom.
I was proud of my Daddy. I didn't realize until after he was gone how many lives he had touched...how many people he mentored...or just how many people loved him. I loved him.
I am so happy that I was able to redeem my bratty kid self as an adult. I am happy that I left nothing unsaid to my Daddy. I am happy that he knew how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I am happy to know that he was at peace at the end and knew he was headed for a better place. I am happy that I took the last few months of his life to appreciate my Daddy and realize how much he meant to me.
At least I thought I knew how much he meant to me. It wasn't until after he died that I realized just how BIG the whole would be in my life...in my heart...with him gone. I didn't realize how angry I would be that he was so young when he died and angry that he will not be around to be Papa to Gigi anymore. He was one of the good ones...he loved his grandkids just like he loved his kids. It's a shame I didn't see that love when I was a child, but do feel as though I see it now.
In the last few days I was not able to sit in my dad's hospital room like my Mama could or K could. I couldn't see my strong Daddy in pain or uncomfortable or just not HIM. I would go in every so often just to see him and tell him how much I loved him. I didn't want to remember him that way - but yet those are the most prevalent memories now. I hope someday that the memories that come to me immediately are happy ones and the bad ones are gone.
I haven't had the heart to have Gigi stop saying "God Bless Papa" in her nightly prayers. We do the old "Now I lay me down to sleep..." standard but add on our special God Bless's at the end. It's automatic to say "God Bless Grandma and Papa...K and P..." I just can't have her stop. He still deserves to be blessed in Heaven, right?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Nightmares
I have always had very vivid dreams. My Daddy used to tease me because not only would I have these dreams but I remembered a large portion of them. One night as a middle school student I even slept walked into my parents room and pinched him - obviously in a dream I was very angry at him!
A friend that lost her dad a month before me has seen butterflies everywhere. At first she didn't want to see them as a sign from her dad, but I think now that butterflies have shown up and she's actually challenged them - she sees them as a sign too. Another friend lost her dad the same week as me. She has dreams of her dad.
I longed for some sort of sign from my Daddy that he's here and that he knows that we miss him. I long to feel the comfort of knowing that he is still around and watching over us. I figured that my Daddy would visit my dreams because of my history and how he used to tease me. My Daddy showed up in my dreams last night.
Dreams is not actually the correct word. Nightmares would be better. I remember at least two horrible nightmares from last night that my Daddy was in. This is not what I wanted and not what I expected. I guess I need to stop looking for signs if this is what I get.
If you want to stop here...feel free. I am going to write about my nightmares just because I need to somehow process them. Hopefully I will have a more positive blog entry soon. If anyone would like to analyze these nightmares, feel free. I've always found dream analyzation facsinating because I do have so many dreams.
In my first dream last night - it took place at the funeral home. I went to see my Dad's body just one last time. He was laying on some sort of hospital bed contraption and his body was all contorted like he had been uncomfortable and was trying to get into a comfortable position. It was then that I realized that when they took him to the funeral home that he had not died at all. He was still alive and realized that everyone thought he was dead. He tried and tried to get away and fought the sheet. Somehow I just knew that he had died struggling to let everyone know that he was not dead.
I woke up in a cold sweat and layed in bed for a bit thinking that when I fell back asleep my dreams would be more pleasant. That was not to be.
In my second dream - my Daddy was still in the hospital. He was laying in his hospital bed and I could hear the way he was breathing and he looked just like he looked the night he died. Everyone left me alone in the room with him and his eyes popped open. His eyes were cloudy and unresponsive much like they were in his last few days. But in my nightmare he looked at me and just said, "Help me."
Two simple words. Help me. He wanted me to help him. Simple but haunting. Help me. Help me, what Daddy? Help him die? Help him live? Help him talk? I couldn't get an answer...just Help Me over and over and over.
I couldn't help him. In my nightmare or in real life. I couldn't do anything. Maybe both of these dreams describe how helpless I felt (and feel). How I wanted to do ANYTHING to make him better. But I couldn't.
Now I am afraid to sleep. I am exhausted but I am afraid to even take a simple nap in case the nightmares return. I don't want to see my Daddy in my dreams if that is how I am going to see him. I would rather remember him the way he was when he was healthy but the images and sounds from the hospital haunt me.
I know that they were simply nightmares. I need to forget them. But I need to remember them because I feel the need to hang on to anything that involves him. The good, the bad and the ugly.
I miss my Daddy.
A friend that lost her dad a month before me has seen butterflies everywhere. At first she didn't want to see them as a sign from her dad, but I think now that butterflies have shown up and she's actually challenged them - she sees them as a sign too. Another friend lost her dad the same week as me. She has dreams of her dad.
I longed for some sort of sign from my Daddy that he's here and that he knows that we miss him. I long to feel the comfort of knowing that he is still around and watching over us. I figured that my Daddy would visit my dreams because of my history and how he used to tease me. My Daddy showed up in my dreams last night.
Dreams is not actually the correct word. Nightmares would be better. I remember at least two horrible nightmares from last night that my Daddy was in. This is not what I wanted and not what I expected. I guess I need to stop looking for signs if this is what I get.
If you want to stop here...feel free. I am going to write about my nightmares just because I need to somehow process them. Hopefully I will have a more positive blog entry soon. If anyone would like to analyze these nightmares, feel free. I've always found dream analyzation facsinating because I do have so many dreams.
In my first dream last night - it took place at the funeral home. I went to see my Dad's body just one last time. He was laying on some sort of hospital bed contraption and his body was all contorted like he had been uncomfortable and was trying to get into a comfortable position. It was then that I realized that when they took him to the funeral home that he had not died at all. He was still alive and realized that everyone thought he was dead. He tried and tried to get away and fought the sheet. Somehow I just knew that he had died struggling to let everyone know that he was not dead.
I woke up in a cold sweat and layed in bed for a bit thinking that when I fell back asleep my dreams would be more pleasant. That was not to be.
In my second dream - my Daddy was still in the hospital. He was laying in his hospital bed and I could hear the way he was breathing and he looked just like he looked the night he died. Everyone left me alone in the room with him and his eyes popped open. His eyes were cloudy and unresponsive much like they were in his last few days. But in my nightmare he looked at me and just said, "Help me."
Two simple words. Help me. He wanted me to help him. Simple but haunting. Help me. Help me, what Daddy? Help him die? Help him live? Help him talk? I couldn't get an answer...just Help Me over and over and over.
I couldn't help him. In my nightmare or in real life. I couldn't do anything. Maybe both of these dreams describe how helpless I felt (and feel). How I wanted to do ANYTHING to make him better. But I couldn't.
Now I am afraid to sleep. I am exhausted but I am afraid to even take a simple nap in case the nightmares return. I don't want to see my Daddy in my dreams if that is how I am going to see him. I would rather remember him the way he was when he was healthy but the images and sounds from the hospital haunt me.
I know that they were simply nightmares. I need to forget them. But I need to remember them because I feel the need to hang on to anything that involves him. The good, the bad and the ugly.
I miss my Daddy.
Monday, August 30, 2010
But...but...but...
I'm a good person. Intrinsicly I care about people and want to make their lives better. I have pretty much believed my whole life that because I am a good person - bad things will not happen.
Now where is the fallacy in that thinking? Bad things do happen to good people. I just never thought it would happen to me. Does that somehow mean that when bad things did happen to good people that I somehow thought they deserved it? The answer to that is not really. It should be an emphatic no but it's not really.
I was married once - to the man I believed was the love of my life. Sometimes that "love" was not very nice to me. I chalked it up to stress, money issues and just not being good enough for him. After all, I was a good person and God wouldn't allow one of his "good people" to be in an abusive relationship, right? Right? Wrong.
Luckily I got out with just my self confidence destroyed, but still alive - and with a beautiful little girl. I went back to my life - living and loving Gigi. I was a good person that was in a bad situation and got out. More power to me!
Two years ago my nephew was diagnosed with Leukemia. But we are good people I shouted to God. Yes, shouted. God and I have had some pretty good shouting matches because who else is really going to take that? We.Are.Good.People.
My family dealt with that diagnosis. Mo - the one actually diagnosed - did MUCH better than any of the adults. My niece Lulu handled it with grace beyond her years. We learned, we loved him and we grew closer. It became just a "bump in the road." (and my sister may disagree with that statement as he is still in treatment - but it just became a different way of life for everyone).
But we are good people. Things like a 7 year old getting Leukemia don't happen to good people, right?
I wrote that off as a blip - a second where bad things DO happen to good people. We dealt. His parents dealt in their way, my parents in their way and me in my way. But yet? We were all still good people.
I lost my job in February the day after my mom had a nasty fall on the ice and I was very concerned about her. But I'm a good person. Nothing bad would happen to my mom, right? Luckily (because she is good person I'm sure) she suffered a pretty bad concussion but didn't have any permanent damage.
The job thing? Destroyed my self confidence and WHO I was. My parents helped pull me up by my bootstraps because...you guessed it...they are GOOD PEOPLE. The best in fact.
April 23rd 2010. 4:10 pm. My Daddy called me and told me he had a brain tumor. A BRAIN TUMOR. I knew he had been going to the doctor and having tests but surely it was something easily fixable. Or something that could maybe affect day to day but nothing serious. But he had a brain tumor.
But you know...that brain tumor was going to be benign because (say it with me) we are GOOD PEOPLE. Wrongo buckaroo. Not only not benign - but cancer and not removable at that. We made plans for the 5 years we were sure to have with him. Because no one had ever lived with a glioblastoma past the 5 year mark - but my Daddy was determined to be that one in a million. That one that survived 6 years. A simple 5 years would have meant seeing Lulu get her pilot's license and see her graduate. See the other grandchildren become actual little people instead of just crazy preschoolers. See the end of Mo's treatment and celebrate that wonderful day of his last chemo dose.
But then? Everything was wrong. Two and half months and he was...gone. But I'm a good person Lord, why do I have to suffer this pain? Why did I have to lose my Daddy so quickly? Why wasn't he allowed to be with us for more time?
We are good people...we deserved more time. Or so we thought. I felt entitled to MORE TIME - because after all, I'm a good person.
So what I have I learned? Bad things happen to good people. Good people suffer and good people get hurt. Good people miss the ones they love and still long for more time. Good people can want these things and admit these things and still be good people. Good people can yell at God - because seriously, who else would be able to take it?
Some days I feel like the blow up clown that people punch and just keeps popping back up (I'll save my hatred and intense fear of clowns for another post). C'mon - hit me again! And again! Try it again and I'll still keep popping up.
Today I feel like maybe that creepy clown has developed a hole. The air is slowly leaking and he doesn't bounce back. Someday it will be patched up.
Someday I will not feel the intense sadness I feel every single day right now. Someday I will be able to share memories and not tear up. Someday I will be able to see that everything does happen for a reason. Someday I will see my Daddy again in Heaven.
Because? I am a good person.
Now where is the fallacy in that thinking? Bad things do happen to good people. I just never thought it would happen to me. Does that somehow mean that when bad things did happen to good people that I somehow thought they deserved it? The answer to that is not really. It should be an emphatic no but it's not really.
I was married once - to the man I believed was the love of my life. Sometimes that "love" was not very nice to me. I chalked it up to stress, money issues and just not being good enough for him. After all, I was a good person and God wouldn't allow one of his "good people" to be in an abusive relationship, right? Right? Wrong.
Luckily I got out with just my self confidence destroyed, but still alive - and with a beautiful little girl. I went back to my life - living and loving Gigi. I was a good person that was in a bad situation and got out. More power to me!
Two years ago my nephew was diagnosed with Leukemia. But we are good people I shouted to God. Yes, shouted. God and I have had some pretty good shouting matches because who else is really going to take that? We.Are.Good.People.
My family dealt with that diagnosis. Mo - the one actually diagnosed - did MUCH better than any of the adults. My niece Lulu handled it with grace beyond her years. We learned, we loved him and we grew closer. It became just a "bump in the road." (and my sister may disagree with that statement as he is still in treatment - but it just became a different way of life for everyone).
But we are good people. Things like a 7 year old getting Leukemia don't happen to good people, right?
I wrote that off as a blip - a second where bad things DO happen to good people. We dealt. His parents dealt in their way, my parents in their way and me in my way. But yet? We were all still good people.
I lost my job in February the day after my mom had a nasty fall on the ice and I was very concerned about her. But I'm a good person. Nothing bad would happen to my mom, right? Luckily (because she is good person I'm sure) she suffered a pretty bad concussion but didn't have any permanent damage.
The job thing? Destroyed my self confidence and WHO I was. My parents helped pull me up by my bootstraps because...you guessed it...they are GOOD PEOPLE. The best in fact.
April 23rd 2010. 4:10 pm. My Daddy called me and told me he had a brain tumor. A BRAIN TUMOR. I knew he had been going to the doctor and having tests but surely it was something easily fixable. Or something that could maybe affect day to day but nothing serious. But he had a brain tumor.
But you know...that brain tumor was going to be benign because (say it with me) we are GOOD PEOPLE. Wrongo buckaroo. Not only not benign - but cancer and not removable at that. We made plans for the 5 years we were sure to have with him. Because no one had ever lived with a glioblastoma past the 5 year mark - but my Daddy was determined to be that one in a million. That one that survived 6 years. A simple 5 years would have meant seeing Lulu get her pilot's license and see her graduate. See the other grandchildren become actual little people instead of just crazy preschoolers. See the end of Mo's treatment and celebrate that wonderful day of his last chemo dose.
But then? Everything was wrong. Two and half months and he was...gone. But I'm a good person Lord, why do I have to suffer this pain? Why did I have to lose my Daddy so quickly? Why wasn't he allowed to be with us for more time?
We are good people...we deserved more time. Or so we thought. I felt entitled to MORE TIME - because after all, I'm a good person.
So what I have I learned? Bad things happen to good people. Good people suffer and good people get hurt. Good people miss the ones they love and still long for more time. Good people can want these things and admit these things and still be good people. Good people can yell at God - because seriously, who else would be able to take it?
Some days I feel like the blow up clown that people punch and just keeps popping back up (I'll save my hatred and intense fear of clowns for another post). C'mon - hit me again! And again! Try it again and I'll still keep popping up.
Today I feel like maybe that creepy clown has developed a hole. The air is slowly leaking and he doesn't bounce back. Someday it will be patched up.
Someday I will not feel the intense sadness I feel every single day right now. Someday I will be able to share memories and not tear up. Someday I will be able to see that everything does happen for a reason. Someday I will see my Daddy again in Heaven.
Because? I am a good person.
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