Difficult decisions.

Today I feel kind of empty.  Empty feels a lot like sadness, only lighter.  Sadness weighs down my every fiber and threatens tears, emptiness feels a lot like sadness....or maybe I'm bored.  For the past year and a half, if I wasn't thinking about my mom being sick, my mother in law being sick or my dad being sick, I was thinking about my pregnancy and new baby or of a friendship that I had to end without explanation.  So, my mom got better, my mother in law is in remission, and my father died....suffice to say, I no longer have the stress of my father dying, or planning his funeral.  My baby is four months old and I haven't really stressed about her in a while since she is an easy baby and so great.  So the last thing that was constantly on my mind was the friend that I missed so much.  It hurt how much I missed her.  The pain of missing her was crushing.  Every song, t.v. show or drive would remind me of her.  Anyway, I decided to give her a call.  I decided that I did not want to regret not reaching out to her.  So I texted her (coward) and we met for breakfast.  The afternoon before our meeting, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest.  I started to panic and make scenarios in my head.  What if she said this, I would say that, and if she reacted like this well...I would just tell her how it is. There, that's it, I will just march up to her and tell her like it is.  Well it did not go that way at all.  The drive there reminded me of so many good memories I started to get excited to see her, like I used to.  When I saw her, the only thing I could do was reach out my arms and pull her towards me for a hug....I didn't realize that that might have been my closure hug, and not a new beginning hug.  We told each other what had happened in the past year and a half and in between told each other how much it hurt to miss each other and how we handled it with tears.  But when I left, when I gave her a hug goodbye, I felt nothing.  No missing her, no pull to see her again, just nothing.  The last thing I said to her when we "broke up", I stood beside her, not looking at her sitting and told her that I would have loved to give her a hug, but I just couldn't. I said that "I just can't,"  That is why I think that the hug I gave her when I saw her was my closure hug.  After that hug, I could hardly look her in the eye while we talked.  I was fidgety and distracted by my blessed baby.  When I left, I understood.  I needed closure.  I got my closure.  And whatever happens happens.  It is going to be weird for a while, not missing her.  I don't think I know how not to miss her.  But it won't hurt anymore, I'll miss the fun we used to have, but my life has changed, I have moved on, and I have to be a good role model for my daughter.  I am proud of myself and I wouldn't change a thing.

Not there anymore

I was going to write about something and I decided not to.  It is a touchy subject and it is still raw.  I wonder if I'll end up writing about it anyways.  I'm still struggling with the loss of my father. I haven't cried in.....a week.  I might cry today though.  I just can't believe that he was there and now no more.  He's not across the globe, or working away from home, he's literally not here anymore.  I was speaking to my father in law about windshield wipers.  He said that  "In the late 1950s, engine vacuum was applied to operate the first intermittent wipers, in which mode the wipers were powered by air rushing into the vacuum stored in a small canister, and stopped when the pressure difference between the outside air and the canister became too small to power the wipers. http://www.gizmag.com/mclaren-ultrasonic-windshield-wiper-washer/30205/"   Laughing at his explanation about going uphill in the rain and the wipers not functioning because the engine was taking too much energy, I immediately thought that I would ask my father if he.......oh, that's right.  I don't know if the pain showed on my face.  I felt a weight drop in my heart.  I cannot ask him about this, and then I thought, why didn't I ask him about this.  I feel like I should have asked him more questions. I feel like I should have listened better.  I felt like a bad daughter because I did not know about this.  I constantly think of him now.  I constantly think of how I wish he could see me now.  I want so desperately to see him with my daughter, to tell me stories of how similar or different my daughter and I are.  I wanted to see my daughter run and scream for 'grandma and grandpa', but now it's just grandma.  We still haven't gone through his things.  It's only been a month but its already been a month.

Split mind, split dreams

I noticed that the older I get I refer to my consciousness as two separate people.  The person in the front is acting on events going on in real time, meanwhile the person in my head is a spectator sitting on the couch with her popcorn or gnawing her nails raw while I maneuver through a harrowing experience or she'll be my cheerleader hi-fiving me when I do something unexpected like stand up to someone and sometimes she'll stare at me with her mouth agape shaking her head....sometimes even laughing (I can never tell if she's laughing at me or with me).  I can't remember when it started, but I often like to take a step back from the environment that I am in and "take it all in".  I do not physically remove myself.  I am not eavesdropping or snooping.  What I do, when the conversation slides away from me, I just look around at the way people are interacting with each other.  Sometimes I am curious as to how I fit in to this picture and I can even take a step back while I am having a conversation.  This is particularly difficult since my mind can take over.......kind of like in the movie The Host, where my mind is having a conversation with myself about the relationship I hold with the person I'm conversing with.  Before all of this, I would be hiding in my head trying to come up with the next intelligent question so that I can keep the conversation going.  I was never really good at it, I realized, because I was not listening. If I were listening I could have let the words guide me.    The only time that I cannot feel that second person is when instinct guides me. Perhaps it is her in the background taking the reins since I consciously don't know what to do but she my subconscious does.  It's like with my daughter.  I just know what to do.  I have a well of patience that I did not know I had.  If you told me I would willingly change diapers all day, I'd say you're crazy, but you know what, I have a hard time passing up a diaper change because I want it done right and right now.  So I mind as well do it myself. Ha ha. 

The point of this post was to talk about my double dream life as I call it.  Everyday I think about how I would just love to wake up, out of this bad dream where my daddy had died.   I want to wake up and see his truck park on the street at lunchtime so that we can have an hour together.  I want to visit my parents and not just my mom.   I want to plan a future with my dad.  But if I wake up from this bad dream does it mean that in my wakefulness I will lose the good dream also?  The good dream of having a baby.  Being a mom and my husband is a father.  The good dream that is taking her nap with a smile while she cuddles her elephant.  If I had to choose, I would choose her and I know that my father would understand.  When I play with her and make her smile and coo, I try to look at her like my father would have looked at me and I understand the love he had for me and I am grateful.

I was watching the movie Beautiful Creatures last night and there's a scene towards the end where they are in church and the pastor is telling his story.  It was about sacrifice.  

"Reverend Stephens: I don't want to preach today, instead I just wanna talk to you, about a word we don't hear much anymore. Sacrifice. It's not what I would call a modern word. People hear the word sacrifice, and they become afraid that something will be taken away from them or that they will have to give up something they couldn't live without. Sacrifice, to them, means loss in a world telling us we could have it all. But I believe true sacrifice is a victory. That's because it requires free will to give up something for someone you love, or something or someone you love more than yourself. I won't lie to you. It's a gamble. Sacrifice wont take away pain and loss, but it wins the battle against bitterness, the bitterness that dims the light on all of the true value in our lives.”

My father had a hard time dealing with the fact that he was dying.  He spent days wondering why him, what did he do to deserve it etc etc.  My mother said, one day, "who would you give it to, if not you then who?" and she proceeded to nominate tributes in his stead.  My father accepted that this was his fate and that he would not wish it on his enemy let alone someone he loved.  This is true sacrifice and just shows what a wonderful man he was up until the very end. 

Not crying today

Yesterday I decided that I was not going to cry.  That, in part, is why there was no post yesterday.  I always found it easier to write when I am sad.  I can write about anything sad, but when I am really happy, I find my writing is lacking.  I find that sad.  Well yesterday I hid the votive candle with my father's picture on it behind the baptism cards that my daughter received just  3 days after the funeral and told my father that I needed NOT to cry that day.   The wall of sorrow threatened to block me from my happiness but I pushed it away with more and more strength every hour.  Soon I was singing "Hound Dog" by Elvis Presley to my nephew and it did not hurt.  It did hurt but I got used to pushing it away, promising that I will shed tears another day, but not that day.  I think what helped was that I was not going to be alone with my daughter all day.  My husband would be home after work in the early afternoon, and we were going to visit my sister.  I did not want to fall into tears in front of them.  I do not want the comforting "there, theres" and I did not want to plan on where I would hide myself to sob.  Now I need to learn to keep my mind busy, to stop parking my butt on the couch and have FULL busy days and I don't just mean laundry and dishes.  Part of the reason that I wanted to stay home was to get my hands into some projects.  Well my only accomplished project is procrastination and what scares me is that I will never get a chance to try or finish a project.   ok, like I said, I do not know what to write when I'm happy.

Elvis Presley

Yesterday in my fit of tears I bought an Elvis Presley album on iTunes.   It feels so good to hear his voice, feel his words and cry at the memories.  Saying my dad loved Elvis is an understatement.  He knew all his songs, had a framed poster on the wall and cried when he got the news that Elvis had left this earth.  Elvis' voice reminds me of when my dad would sing his songs.  He would mimic the voice  so well that my untrained ear did not hear the difference, but then again I can sing like Whitney Huston......when he would sing, he would mostly have mom in his arms and would sing to her soul.  He looked straight into her eyes, held her close and just spent that moment with her.  I made it through a few songs.  I listened to the Wonder of You, the song he chose to dance with me on my wedding day.  I had never listened to the words..... 

"When no-one else can understand me

When everything I do is wrong

You give me hope and consolation

You give me strength to carry on

And you're always there to lend a hand

In everything I do

That's the wonder

The wonder of you

And when you smile the world is brighter

You touch my hand and I'm a king

Your kiss to me is worth a fortune

Your love for me is everything

I'll guess I'll never know the reason why

You love me as you do

That's the wonder

The wonder of you"

Now that I am a parent, I can understand what these words mean.  They mean the same for my husband, but towards a child it is natural.  This unconditional love, the immediate falling over heals for your child is so beautiful.  I expected to feel overjoyed when I saw her for the first time, but honestly, I was so tired I couldn't even process what I was feeling.  It was a buzz in my brain, but I was in complete awe that we made her and I carried her and she's here! But what I did notice was despite the fatigue, my husband and I did everything we could to make her comfortable.  She hardly cried at the hospital.  We took care of her.  That is unconditional love.  Getting up after a few hours sleep, feeding her through cracked bleeding nipples, changing gross, stinky diapers that not always contain the grossness, and changing the clothes that were attained by the grossness.  Unconditional love is ferocious, terrifying, and amazing.  But unconditional love hurts when the source is gone.  I know I love my father.  I know I would protect him should the time arise.  I never understood what unconditional love was.  I love my husband.  But I fell in love with him.  I learned to love him unconditionally.  But your parents, you just loved them at first sight.  My daughter loves me and I feel it when she looks to my soul when she's having her bottle and I am the only one in the universe. I feel it when she smiles at a silly face I made.  I feel it when she laughs at her father's faces.  I feel it when I miss my daddy.  I have never wanted to cry in his arms as much as I do now.  

Sometimes I wish I had something to blame it on like bad nutrition or smoking.  That way I can say "if only he quit smoking, or he listened to his doctor".  I don't even have the luxury of putting the blame elsewhere, because there is no blame to be thrown.  He had a brain tumour.  Simple.  It spread. Simple.  We have to give thanks for the little blessings (but don't say this to me because it will piss me off).  I had the chance to say goodbye, several times.  I had the chance to say I love you, for all the times I didn't.  I don't regret anything except for the times I said I would do something with him and never planned it.  But it is in the past, and I will not hold on to that.  I will be grateful for the time we did have, and we did have a great time.  I will be  happy that I got to cry in his arms.  I will be happy that I was there when he passed away.  I needed to be there when he passed away.  I don't know if I needed the proof, but I wish I could erase the last picture I have of him.  The picture of the shell that held his soul for 59 short years. I'm happy I was there for my mom.  But I am so very very sad. 

Spiralling

Today I'm spiralling.  I'm unable to produce this blog, as it is taking effort away from my grief.  The more I turn my back on my grief, the harder it will hit later.  I have a votive candle with my father's picture on it.  It is right under the television. Since I watch a lot of t.v. I am always glancing at it and that is when I realize that he is gone.  Each time I realize that he is gone, my breath hitches and that skipped breath makes its way to my heart.  Each time I realize that he is gone a new hitched breath attaches itself to the last.  Air is not heavy, but the meaning of that air is heavy.  It weighs my heart down until it cannot support the air anymore.  The only means of relief is to cry. No not true, a few tears are manageable. Just wipe away and smile.  What is coming, what happens when you ignore grief for a second, a minute, a day, is that it has to come out.  When it does it is ugly.  Full sob. Lie on your bed with a pillow in your face sob.  A sob that you wish was a scream but this pain is so, so private that I don't want to share it with anyone.

I never thought I would miss him THIS much.  I never thought it would feel like a piece of me is gone.  I never knew I had this piece, until it left.  I don't even know what it was shaped like, or what it was made of, it just disappeared when he died.  When he was dying, I didn't even feel it detach.  I think that is what hope does, it distracts you from your pain, until it can hide any more coins behind your ear.  Until the plain truth, that hope is an illusion, is so evident.  What's more annoying is that I am full of hope.  Wonderful right?  But where did hope lead us?  Last year, January 2013, my mother was hospitalized for her heart.  Fear paralysed my thoughts and all I could do was cry, cry at the thought of losing her, cry at the thought that my father would be alone, cry because I did not have a baby yet and she was going to die without meeting her grandchild.  Hope kicked in when she was given a defibrillator a new diet and lifestyle restrictions.  We grieved her old busy life and accepted a slower paced life.  New hope.  Oops was I standing on that carpet?  It just got ripped out from under me.  My mother in law in April of the same year was admitted for a rare disease.  A disease that only 20 people in Canada have!!! Ya, so she went through an onslaught of doctors poking and prodding her.  Her kidneys almost failed so dialysis for three months was her reality. Etc. Etc. Don't feel like going into all the details but just so you know, this year, she had cancer and was following Chemo! Bam! That felt like a stick in my bicycle spokes just as I was relishing the fresh air on my cheeks.  But right before the Cancer diagnosis, my father goes in the hospital for a brain toumor.  A fucking brain toumor! Really?  I'm running through the steps but you have to realize every step was agonizing.  Every phone call made us sick to our stomaches.  I didn't want to answer the phone for fear of more bad news. And it came.  He had to be operated.  We had to visit this man that no longer looked like himself.  We had to be strong, but I cannot, will not have a poker face so I cried.  The operation was a success, he went home.  Mom had to take care of him, he was weak, she was weak, he went back to the hospital.  The cancer spread, there was nothing to be done.  The other shoe dropped, he would die.  He died.  Everyone keeps saying that at least he got to see his grand baby.  I try to believe this is wonderful, for him.  I try to think that this is wonderful for mom.  I cannot see how wonderful this is for me or for her.  She will never meet him.  He won't pick her up after school as a surprise.  She will never fall asleep in his arms.

I can't continue.........

The weight of grief

Some days, like yesterday, grief is like a balloon filled with helium that is tied around your wrist.  You know it is there, you have to pull down the string so that you can enter a room, make sure it doesn't get caught when the door closes and it'll probably bump you in the head when you are driving in your car with the windows down or even get between you and the windshield so you have a hard time seeing.  But like a helium balloon, symbol of birthdays or parties, it can bring you joy.  A sad smile will spread on your lips and might even put a little sparkle in your eyes.  This joy is when you remember times spent with your loved one.  Looking through pictures can help this along too.  On these days you can think of what the person might say to you, for example, I was passing the weed eater and I was imagining what my father would say to me if he noticed I was leaning the machine on my hip.  He would have told me if I couldn't do the whole yard without leaning it on my hip, then to separate the yard over a few days. So I removed it from my hip, squared my shoulders and finished the back yard and front yard.  Thanks Dad.  I even read the instruction manual to find out how to get more whip out.  But then days like today, where I overslept, did not find the right breakfast to keep me going, days like today are brutal.  I have no focus and I'm always hungry.  It will not be a superhero productive day like yesterday.  Today the grief feels like a rock the size of a basketball in the pit of my stomach.  This rock has a string tied around it and on the other end is my collarbone.  This string is too short so it forces me to hunch over.  I try to imagine it like an elastic.  I know today I will not be able to remove the rock so the elastic allows me to hold my head up above the grief and see that the sun is shining and my daughter is smiling at me.  But I know, and I am going to agonize all day, that the elastic is going to snap and I will have my face buried in my pillow trying to cry the boulder out of my mouth so I can feel better tomorrow.