The Hardest Thing

You would ask me : what's that hardest thing you had to do, or go through.   You think  I'd answer something about childbirth or raising children. You'd think I would say something about a relationship that was broken or trying to find myself out of a dark place.  You'd think I would say something about school bullies or work bullies.  If you didn't, well I would think that.  No, the hardest thing I have to go through is remembering that my father has died.  He's dead, gone, not coming back.  I have to admit, going through every day without him is almost as if I never had a father.  Don't get me wrong; I am not disowning him.  Going though everyday without him is normal.  I wouldn't have to interact with him on a daily basis.  He wasn't my neighbour so I didn't see him every day.  I might make a phone call and visit on a biweekly or even monthly routine.  So every day without him is normal. What is not normal is pushing away the onslaught of memories past and memories never to become.  What is not normal is wanting to slam on the breaks on the highway because this onslaught is just too much and I want to curl up in the ditch and hope that the pain flies over my head.  But it won't fly over my head because the pain begins in the pit of my stomach and spreads like an ink well spilled over on a table cloth.  The black pain will fill my core looking like a Rorschach ink blot and spread around my heart until in soaks it through.  It will make my limbs heavy and my eyes fill with tears until I blink.  When I blink, I allow the pain to wash over me and I cry it out.  What is not normal is feeling all of this in a millisecond and putting it on the back burner for another time, because I am driving on the highway and I have people that depend on my to get to my destination in one piece.  Though I do get to my destination in one piece on the outside, my insides are broken.

I miss my friend

I miss my friend.  I miss her daily.  The nice weather reminds me of drives with the windows down and the music blaring.  This weather reminds me of cigarettes and Red Bull and the promise of booze and cigarettes around the pool.  I quit all those things, including my friend. It squeezes my heart, but I am able to wipe away the ache like I swipe the screen of my phone to move on to something else.  It is easy to wipe away the ache because I can no longer be her friend.

I miss my dad.  I don't think of him daily.  I go blank when I am alone with my thoughts.  I ache to be alone with my thoughts, and now that I am here, my babies are asleep, my husband is out and my mom is in her room, I have nothing to express.  I hide my pain under my new life.  I hide my pain because I have to move on, day by day, running my house and taking care of my family.  I hide my pain because I don't want pity (please don't play the Devil's Advocate, I know the game), I don't want to hear "there, there", I don't want to cry in front of my mom, I don't want to cry in her arms.  I tell myself that I am not sad because I had closure and I said goodbye.

I am very sad.  I am sad that I am not letting myself be sad.  I am having a hard time writing this because I don't want to be sad. I have to feed my newborn soon, I have to wake up refreshed for my oldest child. I don't want to be sad. I don't know how to live sad.  I've been mad, and dark and happy. I've never been sad.

Woe is she who's sadness is hidden;
She doesn't yet know she is drowning.
Her tears held back make her heart heavy,
And when she dives into her pain,
She will have to fight for a breath.

Something like that.

Whatever.

One year ago today

One year ago today, I was sitting in your hospital room.  I showed you a video of your first granddaughter cooing in her crib while she gazes in awe at the four lions turning slowly to Brahms lullaby above her head.  You were so tired that you could not open your eyes anymore, but I know you heard and imagined her in your head.  One year ago today, I looked at your body, no longer familiar to me as the muscular arms that once threw me up in the air, sent waves of pool water over my head and hugged me close to your heart, were now skinny and long as if the bones lengthened.  One year ago today I listened to your struggled breathing and hoped it would stop, for your sake, for our sake, for my sake, and then I nearly died myself when your breath hitched and I was sure it was the end.  One year ago today, I prayed that you would die when mom and I had fallen asleep.  One year ago today, you entered my dreams as a young man and let me know without saying a word that everything will be alright for us, for mom, for me. 

I am a mess.  Thank gosh I am a mess.  I havent had the time to cry or mourn you.  I havent given myself the time to mourn you.  I didn't allow myself to mourn you.  I tell myself that it is because I have accepted the grand plan.  If you hadn't died, mom would not be living with us, and I would not have had the help I needed at the end of my second pregnancy, and beginning of your second grand baby's life.  If you hadn't died, you would get to see how wonderful my girls are.  If you hadn't died,  if you hadn't, if you, if........

I miss you and I don't.  I fee like I don't know how to miss you.  If I miss someone I call them, or visit.  I miss you and I can't do either, so I just stop thinking about you.  I think of you in the past tense.  The future hasn't come so how can I miss you for then?  My present is full of life, of new beginnings, so how can I miss you now?

And now, I have to try to turn off my pain. Stop it up with responsibility and sleep.  I have two baby girls to take care of tomorrow.  Rock them to sleep tonight so that I may sleep soundly.

Love you

End of grief?

Lately I feel like I have forgotten that my father has died.  It is going on seven months now and I feel fine....ish.  Some fleeting moments I feel like I should be more sad, like I shouldn't be able to function.  I feel as though I am being a bad daughter for not hurting more.  Tears spring up and feel like the end of the world but they are gone and dried up within minutes.  No more hugging myself, crying into my pillow for hours.  People tell me it is because I am so busy with my baby and being pregnant that I have no time for grief.  If that is the case then I am storing it up somewhere and I am not looking forward to when the dam breaks.  It will be ugly.  I think it is because I had the time to tell my father everything.  There wasn't much to say since I don't really keep to myself but I had the time to muster up my courage and tell him I was going to miss him. (here come the tears)  It was only months that lead up to his death but he was able to go through the emotions of anger, resentment, fear, and acceptance.  Once he accepted his fate he started to assure that my mother was going to be ok and divvying up his personal belongings.  I think because there was time for this, I am able to accept it.  I'm not a person who could or would want to change the past.  I know I cannot, so I don't dwell.  The future is hard to imagine sometimes without my heart aching, knowing that he will not be there, but he walked me down the asile and he saw my first child.  He will not see me raise my child, but I feel like he doesn't need to because he raised me right and would have already known what kind of parent I would be.

 He was in my dream last night, helping mom pack up the apartment to move in with us. Jayne was in her crib crying for attention (not waa-waa, but hey look at me cry) and I told my father to go and get her but my mom distracted him with some object.  I believe my waking mind refuses to let my father go about his 'normal' life, should he have been alive, because I know that it is not possible.  I am trying to let my dreams be dreams and to see my father pick up Jayne at 10 months old would be well a dream.

I also have this beautiful baby that smiles all day.  She mimics tone and sounds, she's brave and well reckless.

Oh, and my mom is moving in.

John Travolta and Ellen DeGeneres

I just woke up from a nap with my darling daughter and dreamt about my dad.  He came into the apartment where we lived in laval, looking like he used to, strong, shaved head and busy.  He handed me a newspaper article and there was a picture of dad in between John Travolta and Ellen!  He said "Now you'll believe me."  Mémère was there telling me which page to turn as the picture was in the table of contents of the newspaper.  I looked to the wall near me and there was two pictures stuck in between the picture frame and the glass. Ones I had never seen before in real life but that look so familiar in my dream.  Mom and dad are dressed as cowboys.  The first picture on the right has mom looking down at something or at dad and her face hides dad's face; in the second they are smiling right at the camera.  Then I am standing with my dad and to his left is Simon Cowell with a huge smile.  During this dream I am trying to understand how my dad met Ellen and John Travolta (why do we say Ellen and not just John?).  So I asked him questions.  I can't remember the order as the dream is fading but the gist is I thought he was in a movie and then figured out that they went to a movie premier and got dressed up.  I don't know how he met John Travolta and Ellen though.  The actors of the film were coming out of the back of the room dressed in their movie costumes. It was like a sci-fi/cowboy flick.....like maybe a Spaceballs kind of movie (can't remember the director so funny).  The crowd booed the bad guys and shot  the aliens with their lasers aliens.  Through the whole dream I kept leaning on dad in a half hug and then I would be fifteen feet away from him.  There was no one between us but I never understood how I got so far from him each time then  zwoopp like I was on a conveyor belt a I would wind up back next to him, then the belt would send me away.

Weird.  I think I know what I did. As I can seem to figure out the name of the director I mixed up Spaceballs and shit, I forgot the cowboy movie he made......grrr.

First my dad now my dog.

I thought I was fine.  Monday night we put our dog to sleep.  I cried as I held her on my lap on our way to the vet.  So trustworthy, so unassuming.  She thought we were going on a road trip and she was invited.  I felt like I was betraying her.  My husband brought her in as I wept in the back seat with my seven month old smiling at me.  I watched our dog through the window as she willingly followed the technician to the back of the office.  Then my husband came out and we drove home silently.

I thought I was fine.  But everything I do reminds me that she is gone.  She is not following me everywhere I go.  There is no more barking to let me know that someone is passing in front of our house.  There is a truck parked in the front neighbours driveway and I didn't know in was there. She would have let me know.  No one asking for the door in the morning, no one greeting us at the door when we come home.  It is so easy now to pull the covers over my shoulders at night because she is no longer sleeping at our feet.

I thought I was fine.  I told myself that an animal is not like a human.  You don't plan a future with them. I didn't expect her to be there for my daughter's first day of school or wedding......but I guess I planned for her to be here today and tomorrow.

But she was there.  When my husband found her, he was living with his parents.  When I went to sleep over on the weekends, our dog would kick me in the back because her spot in bed was in my husband's arms.  I quickly let her know that when I was there his arms were mine and then she would spoon behind my knees.

We taught her to sit, give her paws and roll over.   We taught her to take treats slowly and not snap.  She taught me to appreciate every little thing that you are given.  Some weeks I wouldn't take her out for walks and when I did, she never threw the times I didn't in my face. She was just grateful that she was going out.

She went from dark black to grey.  You would swear that she was smiling.

I miss her more than I thought I would. After all, she's just a dog right.....wrong.

Now is Good

Last post I think I mentioned that I watched a Dakota Fanning movie called Now is Good.  A story of a  teen diagnosed with Leukemia who dies in the end.  Touching movie.  In other previous posts I have mentioned how shitty the idea of my father is watching over us makes me feel.  I felt that it was unjust for him to just be hovering and not being able to interact with us. Also as frustrating for us to feel him around and not knowing if he is stuck watching us or if he enjoys it.  I digress....read my past posts.  My point is that in the movie, Dakota's friend is pregnant and she is hopeful that she will meet the baby.  It is an unrealistic thought since she has weeks to live by then and the pregnant woman is at the beginning of her pregnancy.  Once she died, Dakota was able to meet the baby in a "dream".  Dream would be the only way I could explain it because the mother of the baby was there and Dakota was able to pick up the baby and interact with both people.  This sits better in my heart.  Maybe the times that we dream about someone who has passed is the only way that that person could interact with us.  Perhaps when we sleep and we do not remember our dreams is because our consciousness has left (the building) and is playing with our dear ones on another plane.  This makes me smile and hurt less.

Thats all I've got for today.