A month-long silence, what can I say? Life has been busy. Our vacation to New Orleans and Panama City Beach was amazing and very fun. We had a blast together. We spent most nights sitting on the beach, drinking a beer, and staring up at countless stars. Neither of us wanted to leave and we already want to go back. The day we left, one of my BFFs texted with the news that her Dad was in his final stages of his cancer. We rushed back and pretty much went straight to the hospital. I left town, briefly, to attend a wedding and he passed while I was there. We immediately returned after the wedding and I spent the week with her. It was very hard, and still is very hard, to watch her go through what I went through. I've known D since we were twelve and thirteen, we are so much alike it's weird and our dads were very similar in personality too. It's just heartbreaking to be unable to stop her pain. But, I must say, her strength and grace is beautiful. She's a tough lady.
I'm also in the process of a major step in the weaning off of my anti-depressants and it's not very pretty. My moods are all over the place and it's annoying. I'm so cranky because I'm not sleeping well and my anxiety attacks have returned. But, I'm still determined to get off them, so I'm just trying to cope and adjust. Poor M is being such a trooper, especially since my bad moods are fun to witness. He takes it in stride though and doesn't hesitate to gently tell me I'm being a beast when it's really bad.
I've been on them for three years and when I think about just how bad my depression was before the anti-depressants, I panic a little about going off them. But I really think it's for the best. I'm in a much better place now and coping with everything well. I can't explain why I'm so adamant about this, something inside is just telling me it's time. When I made the decision to stop them, I had a long talk with M about it. I told him what I was like before them and how my depression affected me. I've told him what to watch for and he asks nightly about how I'm doing. The first sign I'm getting depressed or suicidal, I'm getting back on them. But, so far, I'm ok. No dark thoughts. It's a relief!
My Dad would have turned 57 this weekend. I miss him so very much. Cancer is a bitch.
Showing posts with label letters to my Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letters to my Dad. Show all posts
August 14, 2014
June 10, 2014
Dear Dad,
Father's Day is coming up and I'm dreading this year even more than previous years. I guess I thought it might get a little easier as more time went by but it's actually the opposite. And it's not exactly that it's getting worse, it's just that it's getting more challenging, I suppose. But I'm not even sure that's the right word either. It's like there is this huge gap between us now and the more time that passes between now and the last time you were alive just widens the gulf. That gulf is what makes it harder as more time passes. It just makes it so much more real that you are really gone. More real that the longer I live, the more I have to experience without you. I really have to live the rest of my life without you and that just doesn't make any sense to me. Not when I still need you so much.
It's weird to me that you are missing out on so much in our lives. Weird that there is now this man in my life who you will never meet. I often say to the Cowboy just how much I wish you two could meet. I wonder what you would think about him, if you would get along with him. It messes with me that you only exist to him in my memories and in the pictures I show him. And I do talk about you often to him, everyone actually does. He often tells me what other people say to him about you. What cousins, uncles, aunts and my siblings say. The little funny stories they share about you help make you more alive to him. He tells me he wishes he had met you too because you sound like such an amazing guy and I just shake my head sadly and tell him he doesn't know the half of it yet.
As much as I try to not think about the future, my over-thinking mind sometimes just can't help it. I think about getting married again and how sad it'll make me to not have you walk me down the aisle or dance with me. I get even more sad when I think about not being able to see your expression when I announce a pregnancy because I know how excited you got every time you found out another grandchild was on the way. I hate that I'll never see you hold my baby. That my baby will grow up with only your memories. I had a dream recently that I had just given birth and when they placed the baby on me, I started crying and whispered to him, "Your Grandpa loves you so much and will always be watching over you." And I know that I'll probably say that exact thing whenever the time does come.
I know that I'll go out to see you on Sunday and we'll talk about you all day, probably shed a few tears. We're BBQing because that was your favorite thing. You will simultaneously feel both more alive and more gone to us. I hate it all because it's just the emptiest feeling to visit a cemetery and talk to a slab of stone. I'm glad you're no longer in pain and I know you are watching over us but I miss you so much that miss doesn't even scratch the surface, I need a stronger word for miss. I need you.
It's weird to me that you are missing out on so much in our lives. Weird that there is now this man in my life who you will never meet. I often say to the Cowboy just how much I wish you two could meet. I wonder what you would think about him, if you would get along with him. It messes with me that you only exist to him in my memories and in the pictures I show him. And I do talk about you often to him, everyone actually does. He often tells me what other people say to him about you. What cousins, uncles, aunts and my siblings say. The little funny stories they share about you help make you more alive to him. He tells me he wishes he had met you too because you sound like such an amazing guy and I just shake my head sadly and tell him he doesn't know the half of it yet.
As much as I try to not think about the future, my over-thinking mind sometimes just can't help it. I think about getting married again and how sad it'll make me to not have you walk me down the aisle or dance with me. I get even more sad when I think about not being able to see your expression when I announce a pregnancy because I know how excited you got every time you found out another grandchild was on the way. I hate that I'll never see you hold my baby. That my baby will grow up with only your memories. I had a dream recently that I had just given birth and when they placed the baby on me, I started crying and whispered to him, "Your Grandpa loves you so much and will always be watching over you." And I know that I'll probably say that exact thing whenever the time does come.
I know that I'll go out to see you on Sunday and we'll talk about you all day, probably shed a few tears. We're BBQing because that was your favorite thing. You will simultaneously feel both more alive and more gone to us. I hate it all because it's just the emptiest feeling to visit a cemetery and talk to a slab of stone. I'm glad you're no longer in pain and I know you are watching over us but I miss you so much that miss doesn't even scratch the surface, I need a stronger word for miss. I need you.
December 1, 2013
Dear Dad
When the clock struck midnight and I watched the date flip to December, my stomach just dropped. It doesn't seem possible that it's been two whole years since you died. My mind literally has the hardest time wrapping itself around that fact. I guess it's how I cope, staying just a tad in denial, maybe because accepting it fully and completely would be so absolute. And it's an absolution that I just can't face yet and I'm not sure I really ever will. I mean, logically, I know you're gone but oh man my heart just doesn't want to believe it.
Since you left us, this time of year is always so bittersweet for us. Once that calender flips to October and the days start passing, the grief we always carry just gets heavier every day. Until we eventually land on December 2nd and it just topples us over. The day we all despise because it's the day our hearts lost a piece that we can never replace. Not that we want to but we know we have to go on and so we're learning how to live without you. So many people told me when you died that time heals all wounds. They're wrong though, that is a load of bullshit. All time does is continue and it carries you with it, no matter how much you resist. Time shows you how to learn the new normal that is your life now. Time teaches you how to make peace with the fact that you have a dead parent. You learn how to live with that hole left behind. And losing you left behind a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.
I miss you so much and to such a depth, that I no longer remember what it's like to not miss you. I miss hearing your laugh and seeing you smile. I miss saying "Dad" and you responding to it. I miss listening to you and Mom bicker. I so desperately wish that you were still here. Because the wishing goes hand in hand with the missing, of course. I wish you could play with the grandchildren, they're getting so big. I wish you could give me advice about everything. I wish you could see this house. I wish you could see T get married in two weeks. I wish you were here to hold Mom's hand because she so badly needs that. I just wish I could wrap my arms around you and hear you say, "Amanda".
I've had a really hard time since you left. I haven't always handled it in the most graceful way either. But I hope you are proud of me and how far I have come. I hope you think I'm making the right decisions. I hope I'm honoring you in a way that makes you shake your head as a slow grin stretches across your face. I hope you know just how much I love you and I hope you aren't missing us too badly.
Two years, Dad, two whole fucking years. I'd give anything to have you back because sometimes a girl just really needs her daddy.
Since you left us, this time of year is always so bittersweet for us. Once that calender flips to October and the days start passing, the grief we always carry just gets heavier every day. Until we eventually land on December 2nd and it just topples us over. The day we all despise because it's the day our hearts lost a piece that we can never replace. Not that we want to but we know we have to go on and so we're learning how to live without you. So many people told me when you died that time heals all wounds. They're wrong though, that is a load of bullshit. All time does is continue and it carries you with it, no matter how much you resist. Time shows you how to learn the new normal that is your life now. Time teaches you how to make peace with the fact that you have a dead parent. You learn how to live with that hole left behind. And losing you left behind a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.
I miss you so much and to such a depth, that I no longer remember what it's like to not miss you. I miss hearing your laugh and seeing you smile. I miss saying "Dad" and you responding to it. I miss listening to you and Mom bicker. I so desperately wish that you were still here. Because the wishing goes hand in hand with the missing, of course. I wish you could play with the grandchildren, they're getting so big. I wish you could give me advice about everything. I wish you could see this house. I wish you could see T get married in two weeks. I wish you were here to hold Mom's hand because she so badly needs that. I just wish I could wrap my arms around you and hear you say, "Amanda".
I've had a really hard time since you left. I haven't always handled it in the most graceful way either. But I hope you are proud of me and how far I have come. I hope you think I'm making the right decisions. I hope I'm honoring you in a way that makes you shake your head as a slow grin stretches across your face. I hope you know just how much I love you and I hope you aren't missing us too badly.
Two years, Dad, two whole fucking years. I'd give anything to have you back because sometimes a girl just really needs her daddy.
June 1, 2012
Dear Dad
It's been 6 months since you left us, 6 very long, emotional months. I am having a hard time understanding how time can keep moving forward without you. How is that you were here and then weren't? Sometimes your last day plays over and over in my mind. I wonder how I missed the signs that you were going to be slipping away, how I could have ignored what was blatantly staring me in the face? Guess they mean it when they talk about how strong denial can be.
Nights are the worse, sleep eludes me as your last breath plays over and over in my mind. It drives me from bed and this feeling of restlessness takes over. I walk around the house, mindlessly surf the net or watch your slideshow until the sun comes up and I can finally sleep. I can't explain why the dark sucks, I'm not scared but I also don't feel 100% safe either. I am eager to move back to TX so that I can be around Mom and the siblings again, I have a feeling that will help tremendously.
Speaking of moving home, we are about 5 weeks from the big move now! The house looks great, it's perfect and we couldn't love it more. I constantly daydream about it and have all these plans for the fun we'll have there. The only sad part is that you won't live with us. It's so hard hearing Mom talk about decorating her room, knowing you won't share it with her. She still gets really sad, we all do. We never dreamed you could miss a person so much. Or what it would feel like to hurt from the deepest part of your soul.
Everyone keeps telling me that it'll get easier, the pain less. But I think that's so stupid. The pain isn't easier or any less, if anything it's worse. I just know how to function a little better now despite that. I can laugh and enjoy life even though I carry this grief all the time. I can't think about Father's Day without tearing up and know it's going to be utter torture. Wish I could rewind time and spend one more day with you. I just want to hug you, hear you say my name. I want to hear you laugh. I want to see your smile.
I just want my Dad back.
Nights are the worse, sleep eludes me as your last breath plays over and over in my mind. It drives me from bed and this feeling of restlessness takes over. I walk around the house, mindlessly surf the net or watch your slideshow until the sun comes up and I can finally sleep. I can't explain why the dark sucks, I'm not scared but I also don't feel 100% safe either. I am eager to move back to TX so that I can be around Mom and the siblings again, I have a feeling that will help tremendously.
Speaking of moving home, we are about 5 weeks from the big move now! The house looks great, it's perfect and we couldn't love it more. I constantly daydream about it and have all these plans for the fun we'll have there. The only sad part is that you won't live with us. It's so hard hearing Mom talk about decorating her room, knowing you won't share it with her. She still gets really sad, we all do. We never dreamed you could miss a person so much. Or what it would feel like to hurt from the deepest part of your soul.
Everyone keeps telling me that it'll get easier, the pain less. But I think that's so stupid. The pain isn't easier or any less, if anything it's worse. I just know how to function a little better now despite that. I can laugh and enjoy life even though I carry this grief all the time. I can't think about Father's Day without tearing up and know it's going to be utter torture. Wish I could rewind time and spend one more day with you. I just want to hug you, hear you say my name. I want to hear you laugh. I want to see your smile.
I just want my Dad back.
March 19, 2012
Coping
It's been 15 weeks now. The knowledge that time is passing by without him is simultaneously awful and relieving. It's also unbelievable. It's also a lot of other things but mainly it just sucks. Don't I have such a way with words? My therapist is pretty awesome, he has a very soothing voice and reminds me so much of Ernie Hudson. Seeing him again this week.
Things helping me cope:
* Net.flix instant streaming, guys I'm going to watch Justin Bieber tonight...new low?
* Ordering Sweet Valley High books from Amazon and rereading them...bc I am clearly a teen girl stuck in the early 90's
* old school country music bc my Dad loved it and it's perfect for when you are depressed and want to shoot people
* Disney movies and sappy chick flicks- Beaches and Steel Magnolia anyone?
* magazines, you should see the stacks around the house, my recycling person must think I'm a hoarder
* Pin.terest, bc pinning cute baby stuff is SO healthy and also? the recipes look amazing! So does the dream house I am pinning together complete with a slide from the upstairs to the downstairs!
* this book, which has made such a mark on me. It is now my absolute favorite book of all time. Read it and love it.
I've decided not to mention my addiction to Amazon bc I fear C will see this and take away my Amazon rewards card. But who could resist this or this or especially this.
I miss him more and more and just want him back. How can it already be Spring? The leaves were yellow and orange when he was dying and then completely gone when he did. How are they back already? Don't they know I'd rather be stuck in Fall?
Things helping me cope:
* Net.flix instant streaming, guys I'm going to watch Justin Bieber tonight...new low?
* Ordering Sweet Valley High books from Amazon and rereading them...bc I am clearly a teen girl stuck in the early 90's
* old school country music bc my Dad loved it and it's perfect for when you are depressed and want to shoot people
* Disney movies and sappy chick flicks- Beaches and Steel Magnolia anyone?
* magazines, you should see the stacks around the house, my recycling person must think I'm a hoarder
* Pin.terest, bc pinning cute baby stuff is SO healthy and also? the recipes look amazing! So does the dream house I am pinning together complete with a slide from the upstairs to the downstairs!
* this book, which has made such a mark on me. It is now my absolute favorite book of all time. Read it and love it.
I've decided not to mention my addiction to Amazon bc I fear C will see this and take away my Amazon rewards card. But who could resist this or this or especially this.
I miss him more and more and just want him back. How can it already be Spring? The leaves were yellow and orange when he was dying and then completely gone when he did. How are they back already? Don't they know I'd rather be stuck in Fall?
February 23, 2012
a new diagnosis
Let's add up all the diagnoses I've been handed over the years, or as I refer to it- my body hates me. First up was PCOS/amenorrhea, (don't forget my gallbladder shit the bed) followed by liver disease, then hypothyroidism which simultaneously came with a hypertrophic cardiomyopathy diagnosis and now we can add an official depression diagnosis to my list. My body? Totally winning.
Y'all, I have a pill box. Like the kind that is long and has the days of the week printed on top the divided slots, but it's ok because mine is pink and that makes me feel like maybe I'm not 90 years old. Anyway, thanks to the above reasons my body hates me, I've been seeing my family doctor once a month. After talking about how I've been since losing my Dad, he added a second anti-depressant to my pillbox and referred me to a therapist. My first appointment is next week. Which makes me anxious because I'm scared to death he'll listen to me and then decide to lock me in a looney bin. Just kidding, kinda.
I knew I was taking my Dad's death hard but I thought it was just normal grief. But the tears were so frequent, the rage so frightening and the hopelessness so scary that I guessed it might be something more. Guess it's not normal to wake up every day and feel like the joy has been sucked out of the world. I want to grieve but I don't want to feel so dark all the time, some laughter mixed in with the tears would be so nice. I want to be able to think about my Dad without all the images from his time on hospice clouding my mind. I want to not feel so responsible for his death and have some sense of peace about his decision to stop chemo. Which I know is a moot point because he wasn't responding to chemo anyway but it's how I feel.
But, I've been told by friends who have lost a parent that a lot of that never truly goes away. You never really stop processing and trying to understand what losing a parent really is or does to you. You never stop missing them or grieving, you just learn to live with the new normal that is your life. You learn to live with the parent sized hole in your heart and life. Guess I'll be keeping my therapist busy considering of the unique spin our infertility also casts on my grief.
Oh and to add insult to injury, a relative sent me a care package, which is sweet but included in it was several baby items with the Longhorn emblem on it. Nothing else screams sensitivity quite like that.
Y'all, I have a pill box. Like the kind that is long and has the days of the week printed on top the divided slots, but it's ok because mine is pink and that makes me feel like maybe I'm not 90 years old. Anyway, thanks to the above reasons my body hates me, I've been seeing my family doctor once a month. After talking about how I've been since losing my Dad, he added a second anti-depressant to my pillbox and referred me to a therapist. My first appointment is next week. Which makes me anxious because I'm scared to death he'll listen to me and then decide to lock me in a looney bin. Just kidding, kinda.
I knew I was taking my Dad's death hard but I thought it was just normal grief. But the tears were so frequent, the rage so frightening and the hopelessness so scary that I guessed it might be something more. Guess it's not normal to wake up every day and feel like the joy has been sucked out of the world. I want to grieve but I don't want to feel so dark all the time, some laughter mixed in with the tears would be so nice. I want to be able to think about my Dad without all the images from his time on hospice clouding my mind. I want to not feel so responsible for his death and have some sense of peace about his decision to stop chemo. Which I know is a moot point because he wasn't responding to chemo anyway but it's how I feel.
But, I've been told by friends who have lost a parent that a lot of that never truly goes away. You never really stop processing and trying to understand what losing a parent really is or does to you. You never stop missing them or grieving, you just learn to live with the new normal that is your life. You learn to live with the parent sized hole in your heart and life. Guess I'll be keeping my therapist busy considering of the unique spin our infertility also casts on my grief.
Oh and to add insult to injury, a relative sent me a care package, which is sweet but included in it was several baby items with the Longhorn emblem on it. Nothing else screams sensitivity quite like that.
January 8, 2012
dear dad
Starting the new year without you was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It was the last year of your life, the last year you and I shared and will ever share again. I cried a little after the clock struck midnight and throughout the day on January 1st. Only, then, I cried for multiple reasons- because your wedding anniversary with Mom is coming up, little brother's birthday and well, mine too. I was already blah about turning 29, this just makes it all that much more worse. C is taking me out of town to celebrate, we're going to Nashville. I'm excited but I'm sure I'll be wishing you were with us every moment. You loved country music and I think that's why I picked that particular destination.
I know you probably hear me talking to you all the time. It's very relieving to talk to you, even if you can't respond. I like feeling you with me everywhere too, I just feel so very loved by you. It's weird because I literally get this warm feeling in my heart and I just *know* it's you. You're with me and I love that so much. I'm going to enjoy taking you along on my journey and knowing you are up there praying for me, guiding me and looking out for me is amazing. But, still, I long for a hug, to hear you laugh and to just be around the man who fathered me and shaped me into who I am.
I've learned to make my grief into a faucet of sorts. I turn it off a lot and when I barely turn it on, it gushes and gushes out. Like tonight, I opened it without meaning to and cried and cried. Watched the slide show of you and cried some more. Of course, now I can't sleep but my sleep habits suck these days anyway. One of the main thoughts that is on repeat in my mind is that I just want to run to you and curl up next to you while you comfort me, while you explain this to me in a way that doesn't completely break my heart. I just want to be with you, with my Daddy, the strong protector you always were to me. I miss you.
In my daily talks with you, I spend a lot of time reminiscing about everything. Laughing and smiling at the memories, which everyone keeps telling me to cherish. And I do, so much and they're wonderful. But they don't compare to the actual man. Never will.
love & miss you
I know you probably hear me talking to you all the time. It's very relieving to talk to you, even if you can't respond. I like feeling you with me everywhere too, I just feel so very loved by you. It's weird because I literally get this warm feeling in my heart and I just *know* it's you. You're with me and I love that so much. I'm going to enjoy taking you along on my journey and knowing you are up there praying for me, guiding me and looking out for me is amazing. But, still, I long for a hug, to hear you laugh and to just be around the man who fathered me and shaped me into who I am.
I've learned to make my grief into a faucet of sorts. I turn it off a lot and when I barely turn it on, it gushes and gushes out. Like tonight, I opened it without meaning to and cried and cried. Watched the slide show of you and cried some more. Of course, now I can't sleep but my sleep habits suck these days anyway. One of the main thoughts that is on repeat in my mind is that I just want to run to you and curl up next to you while you comfort me, while you explain this to me in a way that doesn't completely break my heart. I just want to be with you, with my Daddy, the strong protector you always were to me. I miss you.
In my daily talks with you, I spend a lot of time reminiscing about everything. Laughing and smiling at the memories, which everyone keeps telling me to cherish. And I do, so much and they're wonderful. But they don't compare to the actual man. Never will.
love & miss you
November 19, 2011
Dear Dad,
It's often late at night that this ball of anxiety and nervousness takes up residence in my chest, I almost can't breathe from the pressure. Then it turns into restlessness, which causes me to drive mindlessly around until I feel ok enough to maybe sleep. I hate leaving you but sometimes, I just have to get out of here. I know you understand, you are the same way. Getting the hell out of dodge is sometimes the best solution to a problem. It's also at night that I try to imagine your funeral and what it will be like. Will anyone attend? Will anyone send flowers? How will all of us make it through? So many questions and not a single answer that makes me feel better.
Your decline is astonishing because I think we had actually convinced ourselves that you aren't dying. You've outlived the two week prediction by the hospice we fired but as we come upon the month prediction from your oncologist, I freak out a little. It seems like it might be accurate and that scares the fuck out of me. I'm sitting here right now listening to your oxygen machine, hearing it's intake and outtake makes me want to throw up because it reminds me of your time in the ICU after your stroke. I'm glad it helps you but I dread the day it doesn't. The house is full of medical equipment: a wheelchair, an oxygen tank on wheels, a nebulizer, a suction machine...visible reminders of the truth we so desperately want to ignore.
The past couple of days have been a sharp decline. You stare blankly a lot and rarely respond to us unless you nod for more pain medicine. You're too weak to cough up normal saliva and can barely sip water. I hate it. I hate it for you because I can see it in your eyes that you aren't ready for any of this, you don't want to leave us. You hate that this is what your life is like now, that this is how you are dying. I see it and I wish I could make it all better for you. I promise that Heaven will be amazing, you won't hurt or be sad. I hear it's paradise and that you feel nothing but peace, joy, and love. I know you will be thrilled to be with Grandpa again and your uncle and your own grandparents too. I know you'll be able to run and play baseball again, hear Elvis give a concert, and float on a cloud. Believe it or not, that is actually comforting to me.
But, I also know that you will miss us. Because we will be missing you so incredibly much too. I also know that your love for us won't stop because neither will our love for you. I know we'll see you again one day and that you'll have the biggest grin to greet us when we get to Heaven. I just wish you didn't have to go yet. I wish that you could stay and continue loving us here. I'd give anything for that, anything.
I just have one request, when you get to Heaven, can you ask God to send C and me a baby?
Your decline is astonishing because I think we had actually convinced ourselves that you aren't dying. You've outlived the two week prediction by the hospice we fired but as we come upon the month prediction from your oncologist, I freak out a little. It seems like it might be accurate and that scares the fuck out of me. I'm sitting here right now listening to your oxygen machine, hearing it's intake and outtake makes me want to throw up because it reminds me of your time in the ICU after your stroke. I'm glad it helps you but I dread the day it doesn't. The house is full of medical equipment: a wheelchair, an oxygen tank on wheels, a nebulizer, a suction machine...visible reminders of the truth we so desperately want to ignore.
The past couple of days have been a sharp decline. You stare blankly a lot and rarely respond to us unless you nod for more pain medicine. You're too weak to cough up normal saliva and can barely sip water. I hate it. I hate it for you because I can see it in your eyes that you aren't ready for any of this, you don't want to leave us. You hate that this is what your life is like now, that this is how you are dying. I see it and I wish I could make it all better for you. I promise that Heaven will be amazing, you won't hurt or be sad. I hear it's paradise and that you feel nothing but peace, joy, and love. I know you will be thrilled to be with Grandpa again and your uncle and your own grandparents too. I know you'll be able to run and play baseball again, hear Elvis give a concert, and float on a cloud. Believe it or not, that is actually comforting to me.
But, I also know that you will miss us. Because we will be missing you so incredibly much too. I also know that your love for us won't stop because neither will our love for you. I know we'll see you again one day and that you'll have the biggest grin to greet us when we get to Heaven. I just wish you didn't have to go yet. I wish that you could stay and continue loving us here. I'd give anything for that, anything.
I just have one request, when you get to Heaven, can you ask God to send C and me a baby?
November 7, 2011
Dear Dad
Dear Dad,
I still can't believe you're dying, it just makes no sense to me. There's little doubt looking at you that something is going on, you are 106 lbs and often bundled up because you are always cold but I still have a hard time understanding that this is it. I despise the hospice nurses, although Abel isn't too bad. He always shakes your hand and is so nice to you. Nurse Mary is a down right bitch and I look forward to being able to tell her to fuck off. You hate her too and basically ignore her when she's here, being all loud and rude. Right now I am sitting across from you in the living room as you doze. I keep stealing glances at you to ensure you are still breathing and I feel my heart lurch when you take too long.
We celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday and seeing you so happy made me so happy. You didn't eat much but you still tried. Grandma made her famous stuffing that you adore and Aunt B made your favorite banana cream pudding. Your six sisters fawned all over you and annoyed the hell out of me, as usual. You got tired fast and we made everyone leave so you could nap. None of us mentioned that we were doing this now, just in case you leave us soon. In fact, all mention of your funeral has stopped. We were talking about it a lot but now none of us want to talk about it anymore. C and I went to the funeral home you said you preferred and got a quote. I almost threw up walking in and just wanted to get the hell out of there. Did you know funerals cost around $9,000? I didn't either. You are so worth every penny, I am just thankful that I can dip into our IVF fund to do this for you. Thankful and a tad panicked because holy cow that is a shit ton of money. But, you know, I'd spend triple that just to keep you here.
I wish I could change all this, keep you healthy and safe and here. I want so badly to see that grin on your face when I tell you C and I are going to have a baby. I want so badly to see you cuddle my child and spoil him or her rotten. I want to so badly to dance with you one more time to our song, "Amanda" by Waylon Jennings. I wish I had taken you to Alaska and Cancun, like you wanted. Or even to Luckenbach like I said I would. I'm sorry that I never did, life got in the way, which I know is a piss poor excuse, no matter how true it is.
Do you know that I think you are so handsome? Do you know that you are the true heart of our family? Do you know just how grateful I am to have your sense of adventure and your love of travel? I even have your crude sense of humor and bluntness that borders on rudeness. I love when people tell me how much like you I am. Do you know just how damn proud I am to be your daughter?
love you...more than I can explain
A
I still can't believe you're dying, it just makes no sense to me. There's little doubt looking at you that something is going on, you are 106 lbs and often bundled up because you are always cold but I still have a hard time understanding that this is it. I despise the hospice nurses, although Abel isn't too bad. He always shakes your hand and is so nice to you. Nurse Mary is a down right bitch and I look forward to being able to tell her to fuck off. You hate her too and basically ignore her when she's here, being all loud and rude. Right now I am sitting across from you in the living room as you doze. I keep stealing glances at you to ensure you are still breathing and I feel my heart lurch when you take too long.
We celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday and seeing you so happy made me so happy. You didn't eat much but you still tried. Grandma made her famous stuffing that you adore and Aunt B made your favorite banana cream pudding. Your six sisters fawned all over you and annoyed the hell out of me, as usual. You got tired fast and we made everyone leave so you could nap. None of us mentioned that we were doing this now, just in case you leave us soon. In fact, all mention of your funeral has stopped. We were talking about it a lot but now none of us want to talk about it anymore. C and I went to the funeral home you said you preferred and got a quote. I almost threw up walking in and just wanted to get the hell out of there. Did you know funerals cost around $9,000? I didn't either. You are so worth every penny, I am just thankful that I can dip into our IVF fund to do this for you. Thankful and a tad panicked because holy cow that is a shit ton of money. But, you know, I'd spend triple that just to keep you here.
I wish I could change all this, keep you healthy and safe and here. I want so badly to see that grin on your face when I tell you C and I are going to have a baby. I want so badly to see you cuddle my child and spoil him or her rotten. I want to so badly to dance with you one more time to our song, "Amanda" by Waylon Jennings. I wish I had taken you to Alaska and Cancun, like you wanted. Or even to Luckenbach like I said I would. I'm sorry that I never did, life got in the way, which I know is a piss poor excuse, no matter how true it is.
Do you know that I think you are so handsome? Do you know that you are the true heart of our family? Do you know just how grateful I am to have your sense of adventure and your love of travel? I even have your crude sense of humor and bluntness that borders on rudeness. I love when people tell me how much like you I am. Do you know just how damn proud I am to be your daughter?
love you...more than I can explain
A
November 3, 2011
dying isn't pretty
Dear Dad,
Ten days have passed since they told us your prognosis, cold hard words that felt like a punch to my gut. At first it seemed like you were going to pass soon but then you rallied and had an awesome few days. But, the last couple of days have been harder and you are weaker, eating less and you don't talk anymore. You sit quietly and watch tv or stare at us or off into the distance. Mainly, you enjoy to sit outside and take it all in. You told me that you like to watch the butterflies and the wind in the trees. You also really enjoy looking at the moon. It makes me sad to watch you stare off like this. I wonder what you are thinking and feeling, are you scared? Do you realize what is happening as you slow down more and more?
I read online the stages of death and you show some of them but not the ones you should be showing. It's like your body is ready but you aren't. Which is typical of you, you always do things in your own way and in your own time. I feel like I have so much to say to you but just can't find the words. I tried to tell you and ended up bawling my eyes out. You hugged me, rubbed my back and told me that it's ok, you're not going anywhere for a long time. You comforted me as I told you that I was scared and going to miss you so much. I had to come back inside the house because I didn't want to upset you. I keep telling you that I love you and hearing you respond is music to my ears.
We're all here, all twelve of us, well, C comes and goes because he's working in AR but for the most part, we're here. Soaking you up and taking lots of pictures. We forget sometimes what is really going on but then we remember and it's hard. We have to help you walk and I know that makes you sad but we really don't mind. We all scramble to help you, to fetch your favorite foods or surprise you with gifts. Anything to make you smile because you rarely do so these days. It's odd to look at you and know you are dying, that death is so close to you, to us. I can't seem to wrap my mind around it, I literally can't picture a future without you in it. You have always been a very proud man and so full of life. To see it ending like this for you, pisses me off. Dying from cancer is ugly, you can't really eat because the tumors in your stomach are pushing against everything so you are only 119lbs. You wear diapers now and take a lot of pain medicine. This isn't how it should be. I am so sorry, Dad. I am so sorry.
I have so many questions and concerns these days about you. But the main ones are: Do you know how much I will miss you? Do you know just how wonderful you have been to us? You are the greatest man I have ever known and I love you more than you can ever know.
love,
your favorite daughter (don't worry, I won't rub that in too much with T)
Ten days have passed since they told us your prognosis, cold hard words that felt like a punch to my gut. At first it seemed like you were going to pass soon but then you rallied and had an awesome few days. But, the last couple of days have been harder and you are weaker, eating less and you don't talk anymore. You sit quietly and watch tv or stare at us or off into the distance. Mainly, you enjoy to sit outside and take it all in. You told me that you like to watch the butterflies and the wind in the trees. You also really enjoy looking at the moon. It makes me sad to watch you stare off like this. I wonder what you are thinking and feeling, are you scared? Do you realize what is happening as you slow down more and more?
I read online the stages of death and you show some of them but not the ones you should be showing. It's like your body is ready but you aren't. Which is typical of you, you always do things in your own way and in your own time. I feel like I have so much to say to you but just can't find the words. I tried to tell you and ended up bawling my eyes out. You hugged me, rubbed my back and told me that it's ok, you're not going anywhere for a long time. You comforted me as I told you that I was scared and going to miss you so much. I had to come back inside the house because I didn't want to upset you. I keep telling you that I love you and hearing you respond is music to my ears.
We're all here, all twelve of us, well, C comes and goes because he's working in AR but for the most part, we're here. Soaking you up and taking lots of pictures. We forget sometimes what is really going on but then we remember and it's hard. We have to help you walk and I know that makes you sad but we really don't mind. We all scramble to help you, to fetch your favorite foods or surprise you with gifts. Anything to make you smile because you rarely do so these days. It's odd to look at you and know you are dying, that death is so close to you, to us. I can't seem to wrap my mind around it, I literally can't picture a future without you in it. You have always been a very proud man and so full of life. To see it ending like this for you, pisses me off. Dying from cancer is ugly, you can't really eat because the tumors in your stomach are pushing against everything so you are only 119lbs. You wear diapers now and take a lot of pain medicine. This isn't how it should be. I am so sorry, Dad. I am so sorry.
I have so many questions and concerns these days about you. But the main ones are: Do you know how much I will miss you? Do you know just how wonderful you have been to us? You are the greatest man I have ever known and I love you more than you can ever know.
love,
your favorite daughter (don't worry, I won't rub that in too much with T)
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