We Made It

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. 

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.

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. 

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? 

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.

And Downs...

I posted about ups and downs in a post earlier today...then I realized that it's just been a lot of downs lately. Yes, there are good things and I'm really trying to concentrate on those things. And I still have my faith. Because without faith there would literally be nothing.

Today I was very unsettled. Not necessarily sad but not happy. Not nervous about anything just...not right. I don't know why. Apparently many others felt this way today too. What did I do about it?

I went for a drive. Now if you know me and know my sister - I am not the driving around aimlessly one. K is. She put so many miles on her car just driving around. If I'm driving? I most certainly have a destination.

Except for today. That uneasy feeling didn't go away when I got in the car. It didn't go away as I just drove without a destination. It felt a little better after some Wendy's fries and a Frosty but was still there. And then? As I was driving? The tears came. Again.

Out of NOWHERE I was just sobbing and driving. My car was headed south with no destination in mind. Somehow Goldie (that'd be my car - Goldie the Gold Honda) ended up at my Daddy's airport. I didn't go beyond the security fence. I just went and parked in the parking lot and looked at the windsock. Yes, the windsock. The windsock has always been a fascination for Gigi and Papa always drove out of his way at his airport to show her that damn windsock.

The windsock is still there in all it's orange glory blowing in the wind. My Daddy is not there. My Daddy is flying airplanes with Jesus but selfishly I want him here. In my mind I keep telling myself that he is watching over me. I have a hard time reconciling in my mind that he is watching us and seeing how much pain we are in with him gone. But I also have to believe that he has the secret and knows WHY we are missing him so much. Someday when we get to Heaven he will be there with open arms to welcome us and let us in on the secret.

I'm lonely. I have been alone (meaning not married) for going on 5 years. But for some reason the past couple of days this has bothered me more than ever. I miss the simple things of married life like having someone ask how my day was. Or telling something stupid to that no one else would get. I miss being able to rant and rave. I often would talk to my parents about these stupid things. But now - my Daddy is gone and my Mama really doesn't need to hear about Gigi getting lost at school over and over.

I really wish I was as strong as people think I am. Because really I'm not strong at all. I can put on a pretty good act if my Mama or Gigi is around but usually I could turn in to a puddle at any given moment. That's probably why I spend a lot of time alone. No one needs to hear how I'm having trouble sleeping because I'm having nightmares about stupid things like my neighbor taking down my big tree. Or how sometimes when I close my eyes I can't get the image of my dad laying in a hospital bed dying out of my head and the sounds as he gasped for every breath. How sometimes that all I want to do is curl up and cry and cry and cry. I did that last night and it didn't change anything. I'm still just as sad. I'm still just as lonely. He's still just as dead.

Maybe I'm feeling so unsettled because everything else SEEMS unsettled. I don't know what "normal" is anymore. "Normal" is not K and her family living in Iowa. Oh wait...that's the new normal. "Normal" is not my wonderful Mama trying to fill her days so she is busy and therefore the sadness doesn't take over. Oh wait...that new normal thing again.

Someone once told me "I just want my life back" as they were going through a difficult time. I told her at the time that even if she could get her life back it wouldn't be the same. Every day something happens and changes your life. I was so wise then. LOL. But tonight...I want the same thing she did - I want my life back. I want my life back to when my Daddy didn't have cancer. To when he didn't die.

I look at pictures of my friends on Facebook and everyone seems so HAPPY. Smiling faces with boyfriends, girlfriends, sisters, brothers, moms, dads and everything in between. I look at those smiling faces and wonder if I will ever have that true happiness again. I wonder if when people look into my eyes they can see past my smile and know that underneath everything is NOT okay. I worry that it never will be again. I know that time will ease some of the pain but I simply cannot imagine a time when I'll just be able to accept that I will never speak to my Daddy again. That I can never ask for his advice or ask if he knows of someone so I can get an in with a job. I will never hear him laugh with his grandkids or bicker with Mama. I am so afraid I'm going to forget. But the memories bring sadness. It's a vicious cycle. Remember and be sad? Or ignore and be sad but put a smile on my face.

One foot in front of the other and minute by minute. Those have to be my mantras. My Daddy would be pretty angry if I couldn't do either one of those things. But now I worry that my Daddy didn't realize exactly how much he meant to me. I said goodbye, I told him I loved him...but did he really know how much? Did he really know that with him gone it would feel like my world has fallen apart? Did he know how much I looked up to him and admired him? Did he really know how much influence he had on my life? I hope he did. I have to try and believe that he did. I just really really miss him.

Ups and Downs

Anyone that saw my Facebook status last night knows that I've been up and down the last few days. Last night my status was "Tisti has not given in to the tears and sadness for quite awhile. Tonight? I'm giving in."

And giving in I did. Crying was cathartic. It was cleansing. But it didn't make the sadness go away. And it didn't make anything better. I have no job. No job. No income. I'm starting to freak out a bit.

I feel my brain turning to mush. I need to DO SOMETHING. I need to have a job where I make money. Bills are due. I'm sick of not having any money for fun things. There are a couple job prospects on the horizon - I would really appreciate prayers that one of those job leads pans out. I want to be a productive member of society again. I feel like I'm not doing any good just sitting at home!

So if you could spare a prayer for me today - I would appreciate prayers for a job. Or even just good thoughts or vibes. I'd take anything good at this point.

Dear Daddy,

I'm having a hard day. I miss you. With all the excitement of the past few days of Gigi's first days of school, getting lost and everything else that goes along with starting school I was able to "forget" for awhile that you were gone. You are always with me and the hole is still in my heart but when I'm busy I don't dwell on it.

Mama e-mailed some pictures to me and asked me to have them printed. I didn't think it would be a problem to do that. When I opened the pictures, it took my breath away.

The pictures are of you and you and Mama doing what you did best. Fishing. They are how I want to remember you, not the shell of you lying in a hospital bed. The pictures show you so full of life. So ALIVE. So Daddy.

You have your stupid fishing sunglasses on. The ones I made fun of you for wearing but know how practical they were in the boat. In another picture you have one of your famous vests on. You and Mama in a boat on the water.

A friend of yours sent these pictures to Mama and I have not asked where they were taken. If I'm not mistaken that black Ping hat is the one I bought you to cover up your staples after your original surgery but I could be wrong.

Regardless of when they were taken - you were HERE. You doing what you loved with the woman you loved and a friend you loved.

The other day I heard Oprah (yeah I know...you can laugh Daddy) say that every person on this planet just wants the answers to three questions...

*Do you see me?

*Do you hear me?

*Did what I say mean anything?

Yes Daddy. I saw you, I heard you and what you said meant something. Your life meant something. Pictures are just again proof that not so long ago you were alive. You were living your life to the fullest.

I only hope someday that I can answer those questions as surely as I can answer them for you. I miss you every single day. I love you.

Love,

Tisti

The Camper

Much better picture of my new ink. Not icky. And you can see the placement of it too :) My Mama HATES it. But she hates all tattoos so I'm not going to feel bad.

The good stuff from our trip to Mama and Daddy's camper...

1. We got to drink red Gatorade

2. It was Kids Fest and there was a big water slide (which Gigi went down a total of ONCE and hated it. It was "too scary" )

3. They gave us popsicles!



4. Face Painting!!


5. Gigi is FUNNY. I told her on the way there to close her eyes and the trip would go faster. She looked at me and said, "You close YOUR eyes. Are your eyes closed? Why aren't we going faster?" That kid. My mom always told us that if we just closed our eyes that we would go faster. Of course it seemed like it because we slept instead of asked if we were there yet 475,679 times. But my kid? My kid thinks it will go faster if *I* sleep.


And then the hard stuff.

The camper was one of my Daddy's favorite places. I think it may be my Mama's favorite place in the world. It was H.A.R.D. to go there on Friday evening. It was exactly a month since Daddy died and the lake is HIM. It's my Mama and my Daddy - fishing, camping and visiting with friends. It's my Daddy's tricked out golf cart and campfires. It's "camping" at it's finest. With a fifth wheel camper, beds that are soft, a bathroom in the camper, a fireplace AND air conditioning.

It was all those things and everything looked exactly the same as when I had been there last summer. Except my Daddy wasn't there. My Daddy wasn't there to take us for a crazy boat ride and go under the bridges. My Daddy wasn't there to take Gigi fishing. My Daddy wasn't there to take us on golf cart rides just to pass the time. My Daddy wasn't there.

There were a few tears, but not many. I am trying so hard to be strong for Gracey and my Mama. But sometimes? I just want to curl into a little ball and make the whole world go away so I can just cry and cry. I miss my Daddy. The camper smelled like him. His shoes were there. Gigi and I took the golf cart for a drive and it ran out of juice (it's electric). He wasn't there to laugh at us...or save us.

Our first weekend at the camper without him is over. We had fun but something was missing. Gigi got to drive a little electric boat. As we were waiting in line I glanced down at the dock and saw a man with a t-shirt very similar to one of my dad's. For a moment...just a moment he was THERE. He was walking on that dock after docking the blue boat. He was coming up to get us. And then I realized that it wasn't him. It was actually one of his friends. I was glad to have sunglasses on so I didn't have to explain to anyone why I was standing in line with Gigi with tears in my eyes.

Last night before going to bed I actually thought to myself..."self (because I always begin that way :) ) this is the first time at the camper that we won't get awakened at 6:00 because my dad is making coffee." Sort of sad but exciting at the same time if you know what I mean. Sleep is good in any form! But Gigi fixed that whole sleeping in thing. She was up at 6:00 this morning! That child has not seen 6:00 EVER except for when she was a baby and would wake up to eat at that time and go back to sleep.

Thanks Daddy for the early wake up call.

We got through it. We didn't get the boat in the water (although I'm sure Mama is a good boat driver) and we didn't fish. We didn't get cooler after cooler full of ice. We didn't hear the coffee grinder and paper at 6:00 am. But we knew he was there. Gigi talks about him A LOT. She talks of how he was looking down at us and smiling when we were on the red golf cart. We saw a Cessna airplane and we just knew that Papa was telling us hello.

One weekend down without him...several decades to go.

New Ink!

It has now been exactly a month since I saw my Dad alive and breathing. He died in the early morning hours of July 13th and I didn't make it back to the hospital to see him alive. I can't believe it's been a MONTH. It feels like hours and yet sometimes it feels like years. I miss him :(

When my dad was diagnosed I got some weird idea that I needed another tattoo. I have two already (A Mickey Mouse head on my toe and a shamrock under my ankle bone). I didn't know what I wanted but I knew something in "honor" of him. Now to know my dad this is funny because my dad HATED tattoos. HATED them. Like passionately.

So I got an idea of what I wanted and really wanted to get it done in June. I put it off telling myself it was something permanent and I should think about it. Then he got sicker. And sicker. Then he died. I knew I had to do it. So here it is. Can't really tell from the picture but it is on the inside of my left ankle below the ankle bone.

Pretty icky because it's pretty fresh. The fish is the traditional Ichthys or Jesus Fish. It is green because that was my Daddy's favorite color. He liked to fish. The blue cross intertwined with it is to represent my Mama. She loves blue and has been not only a pillar of strength but also of faith. Throughout everything that's happened she has reminded me to keep my faith in God. They are intertwined because they are my Mama and my Daddy...united forever.

I love it. I love what it represents. I love that I will be able to look at it and remember my Daddy. And how much he hated tattoos. Sorry Mama.

I am angry...

Tonight?

I am angry.

I am angry that I don't have my Dad anymore. I am angry that he left me. I am angry that cancer took him from me.

I am angry that he won't get to see Gigi grow up. I am angry that he won't see the other kids grow up. I am angry that the kids don't have their Papa anymore.

I am angry that I'm not more like him with ambition and drive. I am angry that I don't know how to fix things like he did. I am angry that I have to say 'did' instead of 'does.' I am angry that everytime someone is trying to be nice and ask how I'm doing I want to blurt out, "How do you think? My dad just died."

I am angry that if I ever meet someone to share my life with that person will not get to meet him. I am angry that if I were ever to get married again he won't be there.

I am angry that my mom is alone. I am angry that my mom is sad and lonely. I am angry that at 60 years old she thinks she will be alone for the rest of her life.

I am angry that I never get to ride in an airplane with him again. I am angry that I can't make fun of his baldness or Matt Lauer haircut anymore. I am angry that he can't be angry with me over stupid things a man I used to be married to does and says.

I am angry that grief sucks so much. I am angry that I go to bed early and lay and look at the ceiling in the dark and cry. I am angry that I'm crying.

I am angry that I didn't take the time to ask more questions about everything from wiring to Vietnam. I am angry that he died like he did with everyone just waiting for him to die.

I am angry that my heart is broken. I am angry that my heart will always have a big hole in it where he used to be. I am angry that we were supposed to have MORE TIME. I am angry that I feel cheated.

I am angry that I don't like Jack Daniels and feel like without it I can't toast him properly. I am angry that I saw an infomercial today and just *knew* he would've bought it. I am angry that I can't buy him some U-Glu and surprise him. I am angry that he has been ripped away from all of us.

Tonight...I am just angry.

July...

July used to mean celebrations and fireworks. Picnics and camping. Boating and playing...July now means...sadness.
At the end of June (which I'm including as July because it lumps together well) Gigi's BFF moved really far away. It wasn't just Gigi's BFF - it was the entire H family - 6 kids and 2 fabulous parents. These people were a second family, my parents neighbors - seldom did a day go by that we didn't talk to one of them. They moved to pursue an excellent opportunity but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

July 4th...supposed to be a celebration. Our nations birthday. To me? It won't be a celebration again. This was the day that I really realized that my Daddy was not going to get better and have a few more years. I thought maybe a few months that day. Little did we realize it would be a few days.

You've all followed the journey we took for the large part of July. July 13th - the day my Daddy got his angel wings. July 17th - the day we remembered my Daddy at his memorial. July 23rd - the day I really realized he is not coming back :(

Last night Gigi and I were riding in the car with my mom and aunt. As we were driving past the airport my mom's phone rang. In my heart I thought it would be my Dad checking in. My head didn't take over until I heard that it was not my Daddy on the phone. My Daddy won't be calling anymore. My Daddy won't be coming home.

This morning I walked down to my basement and as I hit the floor I heard a splash. My basement was wet. Normally my first reaction to any house issue is to call my Dad. He tells me what to do. Shaking and starting to cry I picked up the phone and started dialing. I got four digits in and again my mind reminded me what my heart had forgotten. My Daddy wasn't going to be on the other end. Crying harder I hung up and dialed my Mom instead. I sobbed into the phone about my wet basement. She said she would come to my house soon.

This is when Gigi decided to ask lots of questions. "Why are you crying Mommy?" "Are you sad because Papa is in Heaven or because the floor is wet?" "How did the floor get wet?" And I sobbed some more and yelled. Oops. Then I sent her outside. Thankfully some neighbors that are always outside when their kids are outside were there and she could play while her mom had a nervous breakdown. I owe them.

So...my mom showed up and came to my basement. It really wasn't that much water as she lovingly pointed out. I don't think that was the problem at all. The problem is I miss my Daddy. Maybe my subconcious was thinking that maybe my Daddy would come to rescue me. My Mama was a pretty good substitute though. I want my Daddy to help me with my house. I want him to show up at my front door to work on my 'Daddy Do' list. I want him to yell at me and say, "are you bleeding? Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about." I want my Daddy here. Pretty selfish I know.

So...this dismal month continues. Next week my sister and her family are moving. Its only 100 miles or so, but I am so very very sad and will miss them. I won't be able to attend a large number of basketball games, softball games or random programs at school. It just adds to the sadness of this month.

No job. No job prospects at this point. Running low on funds. Miss my Daddy. Miss my friends. Going to miss my sister and her family. Miss my girl as she left to go with Daddy for a week.

Can I fast forward a month or two when the pain isn't so raw?

I miss him...

From a Facebook note:

It still doesn't seem real. He's coming home from a work trip tomorrow, right? And we will all go to the house for burgers on the grill because he hasn't seen his grandkids for a week or so and needs a 'kid fix.' Right?

His obituary will be in the paper tomorrow. That will make it more real. You know what else makes it real? Needing his advice. I need to talk to my Daddy about how sad I am that I lost my Daddy. He would tell me what to do and tell me to "Get 'R Done."

I am afraid that I will forget. Forget that when he went to Starbucks that he ordered his coffee by saying "Tall. Black. Bold. Own cup." Will I forget that when my mom was out of town that K and I took turns 'feeding and watering' him? Will Gigi remember how much he loved being Papa?

He was such a fantastic Papa. It makes me incredibly sad that the kids will no longer get to climb on his lap for a story. Or that Gigi can't ask him to fix something completely unfixable but he will try because according to her "Papa can fix ANYTHING."

Can Papa fix my broken heart? I wish he could. I miss him. I miss his rule over the television. I miss him telling me to get a job. I miss hearing him tell us he was headed to the hangar. I miss him getting mad because I still had stuff in the hangar. I miss walking in the house and see him in his chair. I miss being so proud of him when he was talking about someone he mentored. I miss his voice. I miss making fun of the fact that his socks always had holes in the bottom and he never knew it. I miss his advice. I just miss HIM.

I hope and pray this eventually gets easier for all of us. I know in my heart that he is in a better place. No more hurt, no more cancer. He's flying his airplane with Jesus. God really IS his co-pilot. I know I will meet him again some day.

All of that gives me comfort but still doesn't fill the ginormous whole in my heart.

We have been busy sorting through pictures and getting songs for a DVD. Busy with memorial service planning and figuring out what defines him to have at the funeral home. Most of the tasks are finished. Now comes the hard part. Not being busy but yet keeping it together.

I want to thank each one of you for your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the past few days (and weeks...and months). You will never know just how much the messages keep me going. I am so glad that I am able to share a little bit of my Daddy with you if you didn't know him.

He was 'good people' and will be missed by so many. I hurt for all of you that are grieving for him right now too.

I just miss him so much.

Tomorrow morning at about 9:30 my Daddy's body will make the journey north to the medical school where he donated his body. I pray that the students will learn from him and maybe because of that will be able to save someone else's Daddy.

I miss him