Hi guys! I hope you are all doing well. I had expected to write about my positivity progress and my meatless August adventures, but both were sidelined this past week.
It started on Saturday with a call from my mom, telling me that my dad was back in the hospital; his cancer was spreading, he could barely see, he was having trouble even recognizing my mom. The doctor's decided to discontinue his dialysis, and gave him about a week. That alone put me in a funk, but I knew my mom would be there with him. The next day, my mom packed her bags with plans to be there with him during his final days (side note: they've been separated for more than 40 years). While there, he couldn't see her, but he kept calling out her name. She held his hand as the doctor's gave him morphine for the pain. She hadn't been there long before he took his last breath. I am glad that he wasn't alone, but I was shook.
My dad was not perfect, his relationship with my mom was volatile. He was not a good husband. As a father, it's complicated. As I mentioned, he wasn't perfect, but he loved us and his door was always opened if we wanted to visit. We both loved Shakespeare, so much so, that he'd given me his complete works of Shakespeare as a gift, and nearly 30 years later, I still have it. My dad had troubles early in his life, he had his demons, and he brought those demons into his marriage, it was not good. Still, that wasn't all that he was... he was smart, always seeking knowledge. He was constantly enrolling in college classes, always seeking higher understanding which included theological studies. He was always seeking a higher power, and did not limit himself to the study of one religion. But as I said earlier, he had his demons, and sometimes those demons twisted his search for a higher power. I won't go into that here, except to say that it made things interesting.
As I grew up, I visited him more, even spent the summer with him once. He and my mom drove me to North Carolina when I decided I wanted to leave Buffalo. Remember, he and my mom are not a couple, and for many years it was hard for them to even be friends. However, he was willing to load my stuff in his car... me without a plan or a place to stay, and we headed to NC (Hurricane Fran has just passed through). They stayed with me for a couple of days, helped me find a place to stay and made sure I was settled in before they left. He really came through for me.
He was there at my wedding... he walked me halfway down the aisle to my mom, who walked me the rest of the way. He wanted to walk me the whole way, but it needed to be my mom, since she was there for all my sleepless nights, my first dates, my chicken pox, etc.
All that said, there was so much that wasn't said. When I moved away we rarely, if ever, spoke on the phone. No birthday calls, from either of us. Still, I loved him. The older I got, the more I understood that I only new a fraction of the man he was. Yes he was smart, yes, he was a talented musician, yes, he was a horrible husband, yes, he was mostly absent during my formative years, yes, he did the best he how to do. I wish that I had sat down with him more, learned his story. I know next to nothing about his parents, who died before I was born. I also don't know much about his childhood. All I really know is that he was my dad, and his death is tearing me up inside.
I haven't had much time to grieve, as so much as been going on around me. I feel like I'm grieving alone. My child is going through there own stuff right now, and my husband was just in a car accident, and all of my other family live in different States/Countries. In my home, it feels like any other Wednesday.
I feel like I'm alone... my mom's in another state, my sister is gone, my good friend Kay is gone, all of my NC friends are gone, Ollie has so much on their plate, that I'm balancing their stuff too. I just want to cry.
I'm going to stop here, I feel like I've rattled on enough for now. Peace to you all!