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.

I Miss You

There was a tractor on my street today, one with a shovel on an arm, it was not being used, maybe the driver was stopping in for lunch or something.   It made me think of when you would stop by when I was home on vacation.  It made me think that this year, this year you would have rearranged your work schedule just so you could have stopped by to see your grand baby.  Why couldn't we have had this summer to enjoy your visits.  Just one last summer.

I keep thinking of the last thing I told you on the phone.  After that last thing, I was ready for you to go.  I said "I'm going to miss you Dad," and you said "I'm going to miss you too".  The last thing that you said to me was, "your mother wanted me to tell you that I am proud of you, but you already know that."  I didn't know that in so many words.  I just knew.  But even though I was ready for you to go, I was never ready to miss you.  I feel like I am caving in.  I feel like I am imploding.  I feel like I can't breathe.  I feel like I will never be able to watch a movie in which someone dies.  I just finished a movie with Dakota Fanning, who has Leukemia.  Her father breaks down and tells her not to go, that he wants her to take him with her.  I watched the movie to the end, knowing that I would cry.  I needed to cry. I haven't cried in a while, but now I feel like I will never stop.

I want to see him again. I need to hug him again.  God I miss him.

New meanings

I'm listening to Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" and a line that I have sung so many times holds a new revelation.  She says "we can dance until we die," - I've sung it, I've felt it with my husband.  Wanting to lie in each other's arms "until we die".  Now I realize, unless the girl in the song is lucky enough (yes I said lucky) to die at the same time as her love, she and he will never feel the pain of losing someone, of being alone all of a sudden every day, until she dies.  The revelation every day that my father is gone is crushing. Every day something reminds me of him.  I cannot believe that I used to think of him this much when he was alive but he now haunts every waking moment.  I don't depend on him, but I need him.  I miss him so, and the simple remedy of just going over to see him and my mom is gone.  Now when I miss him, I cry.

I look in the mirror,
My cheeks are stained with tears,
My eyes are red and puffy,
My lips are shut tight and my chin quivers,
The adult I am looking at wants to stop crying.
She goes away and I am staring at a little girl,
Eyes welling with tears,
She holds her breath,
One blink is all it takes to start crying again.
The little girl weeps with her mouth open,
She runs to her room
Throws herself on her bed and cries into her pillow.
I want my daddy.

Holding Back

Every day, every hour, maybe even every minute, I hold back.  I hold back the pain, the tears the devastation.  Every day, every hour, maybe even every minute I think of something else.  The baby is a constant distraction, my husband, the guilt of a mother not having done this and not having done that.  Every day, every hour and maybe even every minute there is something else to do, breakfast lunch and supper for the baby, for myself, supper for the husband, laundry, cleaning oh a walk....did I go outside today?  Every day, every hour and every minute I ignore my grief.  I wall it up with some grout and brick.  Every day I make a new wall.  The space gets smaller and smaller.  I'm so tired from building walls.  It gets harder to breathe in this small space.  It gets harder to hide from my thoughts pouring out of my broken heart.  Oh GOD! My daddy, my dear daddy is gone.  Tears escape from my eyes.  I wipe them up and look somewhere else for a distraction, but the walls are so close there is no where to look.  I leave the inside of my head and search for a distraction admits reality.  Ah my baby girl, what a smile, Grandpa would have loved to make you smile. Damn!   Quick my husband is coming in, I don't want him to see me cry.  There is nothing he can do about it anyway.  It's not like he can take away the pain of losing my father.  Damn! Why did I have to think it!  I'm a mess and I don't feel like it will get better.  I will just be the master of holding it back.  What scares me is that I don't know when I will lose it.  I can feel when I start to get tired of building my walls.  A day or two after I realize that, thats when I lose it.  The only thing that can save me is an ugly cry.  Fists balled up, face in my pillow gripping the sides and a silent wail escaping my open mouth.  Then the walls crumble, I clean up and prepare my grout and brick for when I will be building my walls again.  My aunt told me that it is not something a person ever gets over.  She lost her daddy 20 years ago.  She was crying on the phone with me as she was trying to comfort me.  I don't want to deal with this for the next 20 years.  The only way I could stop dealing with this would be to erase the memory of his death, but then I'd be looking for him.  Would this be frustrating or a false hope?  Now it is just to definite, no wiggle room.  He's dead, gone, I will not be seeing him again.  Or if I erase the memory of him altogether......I never want to do that but  for he sake of arguing, I would have to erase all those  lives that interconnected with his, including my husband's and my daughter's.  No, I have to deal with this pain.  This pain is the deepest, most devastating pain I have ever known.  How is it possible to feel so empty with longing yet so full of love for the one you've lost.  I must have been so very loved by him if it hurts this much.  I must have loved him so much more than I ever thought possible, for it to hurt this much.  I never want to feel this pain again.  That is a selfish sentiment. Because if I never feel this pain again, then my loved ones would have lost me first, and I would never wish this pain on them.  Moments like this is when I realize just how strong I really am.  For me to decide to shoulder the pain of losing others instead of them losing me, helps me understand that I CAN survive the death of my father.  He would want me to stop crying for him, thinking that he doesn't deserve all these tears.  But he does deserve every last tear that will fall from my eyes.  I just want him to hug me and to tell me to get over it.  I just want my daddy.

The Cemetery

This cool July morning, after breakfast, I fastened my baby into her carriage and went for a walk. Destination: the cemetery.  I find the cemetery both quenches my curious nature and helps me get some quiet time.  I didn't always like cemeteries.  I remember feeling so very uncomfortable.  A fear that the ghosts, or zombies or whatever, the dead would rise and.....well I didn't really think of what they would do, for all I know they might have invited me to a tea party....haha....  I think now what I might have been feeling is the weight of the sadness, not understanding exactly what death and the cemetery was for.  I used to walk in the middle of the rows of the tombs to go visit Grandpa with my mom and I would have to walk where I estimated the coffin would end. The first time I was comfortable in the cemetery was one summer a long while ago, my best friend and I walked over 5 km visiting my old neighbourhood.  We walked through the cemetery and I had her visit my grandfather's tomb.  We sat on the ground in front of it and shared a sandwich. It felt like he was there while I spoke of him and of the memories I had with him.  Since then I love cemeteries.  Today, I walk through the cemetery looking for the oldest date I can find.  Today was 1900. A family of four, last name Martin, all died within months of each other. So sad, the two children died first, then the father and finally the mother, but so curious.  In large cemeteries like Mount Royal, you can see 10 to 20 tombs with the same dates and you can get a picture of the time and what happened. Well when I got home I called the church to inquire if they had information. Unfortunately they do not keep records on the reason of death.....bummer, so I jumped on the internet and figured that around that time there was a smallpox epidemic in Montreal..... I think that was it.  Curiosity, satisfied, I strolled some more and found a second part to the cemetery, that I didn't know existed, and sat down under the trees next to the little river, stream...small water way and lay the baby on a blanket and watched her watch the leaves in the trees.  So nice. Then I had a thought.  I thought that maybe I went to the cemetery to find my dad.  My mom has his urn in their office...her office, and though mom likes to force moments (why don't you touch the urn) it just isn't dad.  I feel like I've been neglected a mourning place. A place where I could lean against the tomb stone and just talk.  Even though I know he would not be there, it would be somewhere to go to, to leave flowers or tears.  I didn't feel closer to him there....I felt like I was honouring those who didn't get any visitors, and myself.  I gave myself time to relax, to try to empty my mind (I'm going to need practice) and to enjoy my baby away from the house.