January 2nd is quickly approaching. January 2nd is not the last day I spoke to my mother, that day was January 24th, the day I said goodbye, the 2nd was the last day she was able to speak back. On January 3rd she slipped into a coma. On January 3rd I realized just how much more I needed to say, just how much more I needed her to tell me. You don't realize how many questions you have for a person until they are no longer able to answer them.
So here is my little assignment for you. That question you've been meaning to ask but never got around to, ASK. That dish you want to learn to cook, that top secret ingredient, LEARN IT, GET IT. The advice you need but have been to embarrassed to talk about or too proud, ASK. LEARN. REMEMBER.
Don't put it off til tomorrow. We just aren't promised a tomorrow. Pick up the phone, get in your car and go visit. Just do it today.
Here are a few of the things I want to know but never will:
I wish I knew their whole love story. I know some things, how they met, a few of their funny date stories, but I don't know enough. I don't know how they got engaged. I don't know when they knew they were in love. I know some little things and some big things, but now I wish I knew everything.
I want to know things about me (I don't have a baby book) things like, did I take a noonie? When did I take my first steps, was I a happy baby? What age was I potty trained? How the heck do you potty train your child??
My mom use to make this chili that was supposedly really good, I would not know, I do not eat chili. But no one knows her recipe, it was her secret. And even though I don't eat it, I wish I had it, so when I cooked it for my family it would be from her.
My dad made me awesome biscuits, pretty much every day. Pioneer biscuit mix, sugar, and milk. I know the ingredients, but no matter how many times I make them they never taste as good as his. I wish I could stand on the side of him and watch, instead of sit in the living room and wait.
I wish I knew my mom's favorite book, my dad's favorite brand of bacon. I wish I knew them better. I'll never get to know more from them than I do now because I never asked.
So, do it today, ask your questions, learn, remember. Today! You may not get a tomorrow.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Selfish.
How selfish of me to want you here. To want you to live in pain physically and emotionally so that I would not have to had suffer the loss of you. So that I would not have to know the pain of your death.
I find myself thinking "I want my mom" more than thinking "I want my dad." It is not because I loved my mom more, or miss her mom. I loved my parents equally, I miss them just the same. But, I have had more time to cope with my dad's death than with my mom, and not just the 2 months 3 weeks in between.
I had feared my dad's death for a very very long time. When I was 10 he had his 1st heart attack, 16 for his 2nd, his 3rd was 3 weeks before his 4th, the one that took him from us. No one expected him to live til 80, but we certainly hoped it would be a lot longer than 59. I use to watch him breathe. He would fall asleep on the couch and I would literally stand over him and watch him breathe in and out. If he was taking a nap in his room, and I was about to leave, I would wake him up just to tell him "bye," I am certain he loved that. But I was always so scared. Except after his 3rd. After that one, I thought, "ok, he's patched up" we will have more time. I never imagined that "more time" would only be 3 weeks. But living in fear of my dad's death left me with less time to even contemplate my mom's. Of course, she wasn't the healthiest either. But diabetes is not a disease that takes your life quickly, and I thought I had years to prepare. But I didn't, and now she is gone.
I guess what I am saying is that while I miss them both the same, it's been easier for me to accept and process my dad's death. While I still find myself having a hard time convincing myself that my mom is really not here.
When I think about how hard it is for me without him, how much I still ache for him, I cannot imagine how she would feel. If she were here today, one year without the love of her life I cannot imagine what her life would be like. How selfish of me to wish that kind of pain on her.
I find myself thinking "I want my mom" more than thinking "I want my dad." It is not because I loved my mom more, or miss her mom. I loved my parents equally, I miss them just the same. But, I have had more time to cope with my dad's death than with my mom, and not just the 2 months 3 weeks in between.
I had feared my dad's death for a very very long time. When I was 10 he had his 1st heart attack, 16 for his 2nd, his 3rd was 3 weeks before his 4th, the one that took him from us. No one expected him to live til 80, but we certainly hoped it would be a lot longer than 59. I use to watch him breathe. He would fall asleep on the couch and I would literally stand over him and watch him breathe in and out. If he was taking a nap in his room, and I was about to leave, I would wake him up just to tell him "bye," I am certain he loved that. But I was always so scared. Except after his 3rd. After that one, I thought, "ok, he's patched up" we will have more time. I never imagined that "more time" would only be 3 weeks. But living in fear of my dad's death left me with less time to even contemplate my mom's. Of course, she wasn't the healthiest either. But diabetes is not a disease that takes your life quickly, and I thought I had years to prepare. But I didn't, and now she is gone.
I guess what I am saying is that while I miss them both the same, it's been easier for me to accept and process my dad's death. While I still find myself having a hard time convincing myself that my mom is really not here.
When I think about how hard it is for me without him, how much I still ache for him, I cannot imagine how she would feel. If she were here today, one year without the love of her life I cannot imagine what her life would be like. How selfish of me to wish that kind of pain on her.
Friday, December 9, 2011
November.
Another November has come and gone, and to be quite honest, it could not have left fast enough. For a little breakdown of how the month went, not only did I have to deal with the anniversary of my father's death, but my fur baby, Lucky, our black lab got really sick and we had to put him down. My husband was offshore for that. Thanksgiving came next, our first without Mom. Then it ended with both my babies sick, he was offshore for that too. But, I put my cape on, sucked it up and dealt with it all, thankful that I only had to deal with coughs and ear aches, I know some moms out there have it far worse than I do.
A little about Lucky, we got Lucky in May of 2008, 4 months after we got married, my husband thought that it was time that I lived at our house when he was offshore instead of going to my parents because I was too afraid to be by myself. Lucky, was a good dog, and a VERY spoiled dog. Which made losing him even harder. We felt like we did everything right, only to lose him before he was even 4 years old. Lucky was not only our dog, he was our baby, and for 2 years he was our only baby. There was a period of time when we weren't getting pregnant that I was convinced he would be our only baby for a long time. Now that he is gone it is like a piece of our family is missing. My heart is broken for him, and I miss him so much. I know though, that "all dogs go to heaven" and I know without a doubt that my dad had a tennis ball waiting for him when he got there.
People tell me that anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are the hardest. But, to be quite honest I haven't found them to be any different from a regular day. Maybe that is because I haven't gotten "there" yet, to the place where it feels easier. See, in my world everyday is hard, every day hurts. I can't say that I don't feel sad every day, I do. I feel happy every day too, but that has everything to do with my girls, my husband and the people I surround myself with. It has nothing to do with it being easier. Some days are still harder than others, but every day is hard. Every day there is something that reminds me of them not being here. I want so badly for them to be here, sharing my life with me. I want to see the look in there eyes when Carlee smiles at them, when Izabella says "Maw Maw" or "Paw Paw." I want them.
The anniversary of my daddy's death felt just like it did the day before and the day after. It hurt. It was hard to believe that it had been a year. My heart has kept beating for one whole year since his stopped. I dont understand how one year can go by so quickly.
Then there was Thanksgiving. I had to convince one brother to go to my Grandma's, and I really do understand why it was hard for him to go, there was this huge hole where they should have been. But he went and I was so proud of him. So, for the first time since my mom's funeral, all 4 of us were in the same place. It was nice, and hard at the same time. I could see in my mind the chair my mom would have been in holding Carlee, trying to convince Bella & Amanda to sit on her, my dad playing with the older kids outside. Then I would blink and just like that they were gone. And I know without a doubt that no matter how hard it was for the 4 of us, there were two people who had an even harder day. My grandmothers.
My mom's mom: There are moments when we are all together and I will look at her and just know that she is thinking of the daughter that she had to say goodbye to. And I pray that I never have to know that pain. She is a lot like my mom though, she keeps it bottled up. Always wanting to make sure everyone else is ok. I think I get that from them. I try to be strong for everyone around me, when in reality it feels like I have to wrap my arms around myself to keep from falling apart.
My dad's mom: She cries 90% of the time she sees me, which makes me cry in return. It's hard to know what she is thinking. She is a woman who has been through a lot in her life. Which made her strong. She is my weakness. She is the person who makes me breakdown, makes everything I feel come to the surface.
So, it's been a year 1 month and 6 days since he left me, and my heart is still so crushed. Which only makes me wonder how hard it would be for her if she were still here...
P.S. I fully intend on staying in bed all of November 2012.
A little about Lucky, we got Lucky in May of 2008, 4 months after we got married, my husband thought that it was time that I lived at our house when he was offshore instead of going to my parents because I was too afraid to be by myself. Lucky, was a good dog, and a VERY spoiled dog. Which made losing him even harder. We felt like we did everything right, only to lose him before he was even 4 years old. Lucky was not only our dog, he was our baby, and for 2 years he was our only baby. There was a period of time when we weren't getting pregnant that I was convinced he would be our only baby for a long time. Now that he is gone it is like a piece of our family is missing. My heart is broken for him, and I miss him so much. I know though, that "all dogs go to heaven" and I know without a doubt that my dad had a tennis ball waiting for him when he got there.
People tell me that anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are the hardest. But, to be quite honest I haven't found them to be any different from a regular day. Maybe that is because I haven't gotten "there" yet, to the place where it feels easier. See, in my world everyday is hard, every day hurts. I can't say that I don't feel sad every day, I do. I feel happy every day too, but that has everything to do with my girls, my husband and the people I surround myself with. It has nothing to do with it being easier. Some days are still harder than others, but every day is hard. Every day there is something that reminds me of them not being here. I want so badly for them to be here, sharing my life with me. I want to see the look in there eyes when Carlee smiles at them, when Izabella says "Maw Maw" or "Paw Paw." I want them.
The anniversary of my daddy's death felt just like it did the day before and the day after. It hurt. It was hard to believe that it had been a year. My heart has kept beating for one whole year since his stopped. I dont understand how one year can go by so quickly.
Then there was Thanksgiving. I had to convince one brother to go to my Grandma's, and I really do understand why it was hard for him to go, there was this huge hole where they should have been. But he went and I was so proud of him. So, for the first time since my mom's funeral, all 4 of us were in the same place. It was nice, and hard at the same time. I could see in my mind the chair my mom would have been in holding Carlee, trying to convince Bella & Amanda to sit on her, my dad playing with the older kids outside. Then I would blink and just like that they were gone. And I know without a doubt that no matter how hard it was for the 4 of us, there were two people who had an even harder day. My grandmothers.
My mom's mom: There are moments when we are all together and I will look at her and just know that she is thinking of the daughter that she had to say goodbye to. And I pray that I never have to know that pain. She is a lot like my mom though, she keeps it bottled up. Always wanting to make sure everyone else is ok. I think I get that from them. I try to be strong for everyone around me, when in reality it feels like I have to wrap my arms around myself to keep from falling apart.
My dad's mom: She cries 90% of the time she sees me, which makes me cry in return. It's hard to know what she is thinking. She is a woman who has been through a lot in her life. Which made her strong. She is my weakness. She is the person who makes me breakdown, makes everything I feel come to the surface.
So, it's been a year 1 month and 6 days since he left me, and my heart is still so crushed. Which only makes me wonder how hard it would be for her if she were still here...
P.S. I fully intend on staying in bed all of November 2012.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Guilt.
“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.” CoCo Chanel
Sadness, anger, guilt. I feel these 3 things on a daily basis. Some days I feel more sad than angry, some days more angry than sad. All days I feel the same level of guilt.
I feel guilty because sometimes I laugh and smile and feel completely happy. Sometimes I think, "wow, my life is perfect." Then I immediately feel guilty because how can I feel those things when they aren't here. How can I be happy without them?
After my dad passed away, I would have given anything to see my mom smile, to hear her laugh, for her to be happy again. And now, here I am without the both of them and I feel guilty for smiling, for laughing, for being happy.
I feel guilty because I can't remember the last time I said "I love you" to my dad. I always said it when I left him, but I don't remember it.
I feel guilty because I couldn't save them. Trust me, I know that I am not a doctor, not even close. What I mean by that is that my parents have never been the most healthy people. My dad had his first of 4 heart attacks when he was only 45. My mom was an insulin dependent diabetic. I feel guilty because I should have tried harder to get them to take better care of themselves. I was the only daughter, I lived with them the longest of their children. I should have tried harder. I should have been able to make a difference.
Most of my guilt lies with my mother. I have never said this out loud, I have never written it down, but I have thought it nearly every day since January 24, 2011. I feel guilty because I feel as though gave up on her. I mind knows that the decision we made that day was the right one for her, the logical one. My heart screams at me, screams that maybe with more time, she would have woken up. Science sides with my mind. Now, I have always been a girl who believes "Que Sera Sera," "whatever will be, will be" and in my heart that day I hoped and prayed that she would just wake up. I begged her to. I begged her not to make me say goodbye. I prayed that the doctors were wrong. I feel like I gave up on her, and for that I feel guilty.
Since that day I have worried that her family, her sisters and brother, her mom, her friends, blame us. I have been afraid that they think we made the wrong choice. I pray that they don't. But that fear is there.
The nightmares don't help. I did my mom's hair and makeup for the funeral. I didn't really want to, but I felt like I had to, for me, and for her. It wasn't the first time I had done this, I also did my great grandmother's hair for her funeral and I cut my daddy's hair for his. But doing my mom's was the hardest one. I wanted to get it right, make it perfect. I have never had nightmares about my maw or dad, but I do about my mom. It's usually the same, her waking up and yelling at me because her lipstick is the wrong color, those times I usually wake up smiling, because my mom rarely wore makeup, but loved her lipstick. Other times I wake up in tears, because she opens her eyes and asks me "why?"
Now, the logical me, the part of me who can reason, knows that we did the right thing, knows that my mom was no longer there. And all of me knows without a doubt that my mom is where she wants to be. I know that she would not have wanted to be in a coma, kept alive by machines when she could be with her love in a more beautiful place than we see on earth.
But the guilt is still there. And the thing about guilt is that it eats away at you, breaks you down. I do not know how to get passed it. People say that the sadness, the hurt gets easier. But will the guilt? Will it go away?
Saturday, October 1, 2011
October.
October
For as long as I can remember October has been one of my favorite months. October means Gumbo, Halloween, fall. I've always loved October, I have always looked forward to October. This year is different, this year all I feel is dread.
October 2010, the last month my father was alive. My last memories of my dad are in October. The last place I went with my dad was the Gumbo Festival (my favorite weekend of the year) as he held Izabella I watched in awe at how proud he was to show her off. That same weekend was also the last time I spent the night at my parents with both of them there. He woke up with Bella so that I could get some sleep. October 30, 2010, the last time I sat on my daddy's swing with him while he finally got Bella to sleep, we watched the traffic go by and gossiped like 2 little old ladies. The last time he kissed my cheek and told me to be careful, the last time I felt his arms around me, the last time I heard his voice.
October 31, 2010, the Saints vs Steelers game, I didn't talk to him that day but for the life of me I cannot remember why I didn't call him first thing Monday morning. The morning that changed my life. I could have heard his voice again. I could have heard "I love you" one more time... Why didn't I call?
I dread October for all the "lasts" it holds. I dread October because it will bring November. I hate November. I hate November for all the "firsts" it held last year and will hold again this year.
I hate November for breaking my heart.
I know that I need to focus on the good and happy firsts November will bring, but my heart is still so broken. I am trying to learn how to do that. How to focus on the good, the happy. I know that is what they would want for me.
But for now, I just want to sleep through November. Wake me up when its over. (Although I know the months that follow will not be any easier.)
For as long as I can remember October has been one of my favorite months. October means Gumbo, Halloween, fall. I've always loved October, I have always looked forward to October. This year is different, this year all I feel is dread.
October 2010, the last month my father was alive. My last memories of my dad are in October. The last place I went with my dad was the Gumbo Festival (my favorite weekend of the year) as he held Izabella I watched in awe at how proud he was to show her off. That same weekend was also the last time I spent the night at my parents with both of them there. He woke up with Bella so that I could get some sleep. October 30, 2010, the last time I sat on my daddy's swing with him while he finally got Bella to sleep, we watched the traffic go by and gossiped like 2 little old ladies. The last time he kissed my cheek and told me to be careful, the last time I felt his arms around me, the last time I heard his voice.
October 31, 2010, the Saints vs Steelers game, I didn't talk to him that day but for the life of me I cannot remember why I didn't call him first thing Monday morning. The morning that changed my life. I could have heard his voice again. I could have heard "I love you" one more time... Why didn't I call?
I dread October for all the "lasts" it holds. I dread October because it will bring November. I hate November. I hate November for all the "firsts" it held last year and will hold again this year.
I hate November for breaking my heart.
I know that I need to focus on the good and happy firsts November will bring, but my heart is still so broken. I am trying to learn how to do that. How to focus on the good, the happy. I know that is what they would want for me.
But for now, I just want to sleep through November. Wake me up when its over. (Although I know the months that follow will not be any easier.)
Monday, September 26, 2011
Carlee Marie
I have been avoiding writing this post, one, because I haven't been able to find the words to accurately explain how I am feeling, and two, because I know it will be an extremely personal post. You can't write about the birth of your child without it being personal. So, here goes...
Carlee Marie entered this world on August 23, 2011 at 8:12am. She weighed 7 pounds 14 ounces and was 20 1/2 inches. She is absolutely perfect. Seeing her, holding her, kissing her for the first time, life made sense. The first moments of her life were happening so fast I had no time to think of anything other than the perfect little girl I had been blessed with.
It wasn't until an hour or so later when I felt the "bitter" to this bittersweet day. Seeing my in-laws hold their new granddaughter for the first time I felt a piece of my heart break again. Watching my husband watch his parents hold his little girl with such pride in his eyes reminded me that I will never have that moment. I will never see Carlee is my mom and dad's arms. She will never hear their voices.
I guess to fully give you a glimpse into my head, my heart, I have to take you back a few months, well, about 9. The first few months or so of my pregnancy were a blur, I don't think it really hit me that I was going to have another baby until I started to feel her move around. There was just so much going on, so much I had to process. And part of me was too afraid to really embrace the pregnancy, I was terrified that this baby was just someone else that I would lose. There was a moment, around the time we found out we were having a girl, when I thought that I would find some sort of peace when Carlee would be born. I truly believed that I would feel better, happier, that I would be healed. That moment has yet to happen. The birth of my daughter has not made the death of my parents any easier.
Please, do not misunderstand what I am saying. I absolutely adore and am completely in love with my sweet baby girl. I just expected, or at least hoped that having her here would heal me. Would make me "ok" again. She fills my life with a thousand times more joy. I have 2 beautiful little girls who give me a reason to smile, to laugh, to dance, to play. Even on the hardest days, its impossible not to smile the moment I see their faces.
However, with the joy comes the heartache. Because it is impossible for me to not wish they were here to witness it all. Every milestone one of my girls' reaches is also a reminder of the heartbreak I have experienced. Izabella learns a new word, or does something cute or funny, and I immediately want to pick up the phone to call and share it with my parents. Carlee is crying and I can't calm her, and I want my mother's advice.
Those things will never change, I realize that now. I just have to learn to live with the sorrow that will always be in my heart. I have to learn to let the joy, the happiness I feel not be overtaken by the sorrow, the sadness. One day...
(Carlee is now a month old and weighs 10 pounds 8 ounces and is 22 1/4 inches! Izabella better watch out, her baby sister may not be her "little" sister for long! She is doing well, and is a happy baby, except from the hours of 7-10pm, silly colic! Bella loves her sister and often wants to hug and kiss her without us asking her to. I live a truly blessed life.)
However, with the joy comes the heartache. Because it is impossible for me to not wish they were here to witness it all. Every milestone one of my girls' reaches is also a reminder of the heartbreak I have experienced. Izabella learns a new word, or does something cute or funny, and I immediately want to pick up the phone to call and share it with my parents. Carlee is crying and I can't calm her, and I want my mother's advice.
Those things will never change, I realize that now. I just have to learn to live with the sorrow that will always be in my heart. I have to learn to let the joy, the happiness I feel not be overtaken by the sorrow, the sadness. One day...
(Carlee is now a month old and weighs 10 pounds 8 ounces and is 22 1/4 inches! Izabella better watch out, her baby sister may not be her "little" sister for long! She is doing well, and is a happy baby, except from the hours of 7-10pm, silly colic! Bella loves her sister and often wants to hug and kiss her without us asking her to. I live a truly blessed life.)
God gave me you...
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Their Love Story. 37 Years later...
On August 17, 1974 my mother and father stood before God, their family and friends and promised to love, honor and obey. They took those vows seriously. 37 years later they are no longer here with us, however, their legacy, their love story lives on. They left behind 3 sons and a daughter, all with families of their own. 8 (soon to be 9) grandchildren who loved and adored them. They live on through all of us, we are their story.
They never spent one of their 37 anniversaries apart. Even last year, when my mom had open house at THS, my dad sat in the back of her classroom, waiting to take his wife out to dinner. They loved and cared for each other more than their own selves. I am proud to be a part of their story, I am proud to be their daughter.
Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I know you are celebrating in a more beautiful place than I can imagine, and dancing to more beautiful music than I have ever heard. I love you both and miss you more than anything.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
one week.
In exactly one week my world will change once again, but this time it's an amazing change. One week from today (if not before) my husband and I will be welcoming our second daughter into the world. I am a crazy mix of emotions right now! From terrified, to thrilled, to overwhelmed. I am trying to sort through all of the crazy things I am feeling!
I know it will be a bittersweet day for me, and I am sure for some of my family. Bitter because it will be another event that reminds me of what I have lost. It will be a reminder that they aren't here. Sweet because my family will be complete, the gift that my father sent to me, will finally be in my arms. I would be lying if I said that I am not terrified. Will I be strong enough? My daughters birth will be the true indicator of how I am actually coping. It will be the first big event that my parents are not here to see. Of course, I know that they are watching. But, let's face it, it is just not the same as if they were here to hold my hand, hold my daughter.
I could never explain what Carlee means to me, she isn't even here yet and she has changed my world, changed the way I view the world. She has shown me that life really does go on. She has given me hope when I have felt completely hopeless. She has been my light at the end of a long dark tunnel. And I am pretty sure she has been that for other members of my family. Carlee's birth will be the first really positive big event in a lot of our lives. She is such a special baby, I hope one day she truly understands that.
--Carlee Marie, she is named after my dad, Carl, and Zeb's two grandmothers whose middle names were both Marie. (Yes, I have had to explain that.) I cannot wait to meet her. I cannot wait to hold her. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life taking care of her and her big sister. I pray that I can have the impact on my daughters' lives that my parents had on mine. Izabella and Carlee truly saved my life. I have gotten out of bed every morning for the last 9 1/2 months for them, to make their lives the absolute best that I can. I hope I am doing a good job of that.
[Sometimes the thought of my parents never getting to meet Carlee is so overwhelming, I begin to panic. Then I take a deep breath and remind myself that they are with her now. Somewhere in heaven they are sitting on a swing watching the traffic go by, they are holding her and kissing her. They are telling her all about her Mom, her Dad and her big sister. They are getting her ready to meet us. They've been with her this whole time, taking care of her until she is here with us. They are teaching her everything that they would if they were still here. When I begin to panic about them not being here to welcome her, I remind myself that they are the ones sending her to me, that she will leave their arms as they place her in mine. Maybe this isn't the way your heaven works, but it is the way mine does. Believing this keeps me sane.]
I know it will be a bittersweet day for me, and I am sure for some of my family. Bitter because it will be another event that reminds me of what I have lost. It will be a reminder that they aren't here. Sweet because my family will be complete, the gift that my father sent to me, will finally be in my arms. I would be lying if I said that I am not terrified. Will I be strong enough? My daughters birth will be the true indicator of how I am actually coping. It will be the first big event that my parents are not here to see. Of course, I know that they are watching. But, let's face it, it is just not the same as if they were here to hold my hand, hold my daughter.
I could never explain what Carlee means to me, she isn't even here yet and she has changed my world, changed the way I view the world. She has shown me that life really does go on. She has given me hope when I have felt completely hopeless. She has been my light at the end of a long dark tunnel. And I am pretty sure she has been that for other members of my family. Carlee's birth will be the first really positive big event in a lot of our lives. She is such a special baby, I hope one day she truly understands that.
--Carlee Marie, she is named after my dad, Carl, and Zeb's two grandmothers whose middle names were both Marie. (Yes, I have had to explain that.) I cannot wait to meet her. I cannot wait to hold her. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life taking care of her and her big sister. I pray that I can have the impact on my daughters' lives that my parents had on mine. Izabella and Carlee truly saved my life. I have gotten out of bed every morning for the last 9 1/2 months for them, to make their lives the absolute best that I can. I hope I am doing a good job of that.
[Sometimes the thought of my parents never getting to meet Carlee is so overwhelming, I begin to panic. Then I take a deep breath and remind myself that they are with her now. Somewhere in heaven they are sitting on a swing watching the traffic go by, they are holding her and kissing her. They are telling her all about her Mom, her Dad and her big sister. They are getting her ready to meet us. They've been with her this whole time, taking care of her until she is here with us. They are teaching her everything that they would if they were still here. When I begin to panic about them not being here to welcome her, I remind myself that they are the ones sending her to me, that she will leave their arms as they place her in mine. Maybe this isn't the way your heaven works, but it is the way mine does. Believing this keeps me sane.]
Monday, August 15, 2011
not fair.
"It's not fair," those were the words of my then 6 year old cousin when she came up to me and hugged me at my father's wake. Those were the words I have thought to myself over and over again over the last 9 months. The difference between her saying it and me saying it, is that I know better. She is 7 now, she doesn't understand the way life works. She only knows she loved her Uncle and her Aunt and now they are gone, she doesn't know though, how blessed I was to have them for as long as I did. And sitting here writing this, I am trying to remind myself of just that.
When I was just a little girl 2 of my uncles died too. I remember their funerals, I remember not understanding. I understand now.
My parents were there when I started kindergarten, when I had my first broken heart, when I graduated high school. My dad walked me down the aisle the day I said "I do." My mom held my hand while I was in labor with Izabella. They were there for all of my life's "big moments." I am blessed and lucky for that. I know that without a doubt, because I have seen how much it hurts when your parents aren't able to be there.
I have watched my sister-in-law, Alyssa's, brother "give her away" at her wedding because her father passed away when she was still just a teenager. I have seen my cousins go through most of their "big moments" without their dads there to see. Kyle was just a baby when his dad passed away, and his older sister and brother were really just kids. Angie was so young when her dad passed, but the memories she does have she holds very close to her heart. Her older sister and brother were just young adults, just teenagers. That is what is not fair. Grandchildren born who never had the opportunity to meet their Paw Paws. Daughters whose fathers never got to "give them away." Sons whose dads never got to teach them to play ball or how to drive.
I am heartbroken to no longer have my parents. But I cannot deny how blessed I am to have had them for as long as I did.
In some ways maybe I don't know what true heartbreak is. I have watched both of my grandmothers bury their children. And I stood in a cemetery and watched my cousin bury the baby she carried within her body, the baby she loved, and felt move, but never got to hear cry. I do not know that pain. And I pray that I never have to.
I don't know their kind of pain, I just know my pain. I know the pain of having your whole world turned upside down in a matter of months.
The 26 year old me knows that death is a part of life. That I am lucky, blessed and fortunate to have had my parents for as long as I did. But the 6 year old me wants to cry, kick and scream, "It's NOT fair."
I miss them, I want them back. The heartache feels like it will never go away.
When I was just a little girl 2 of my uncles died too. I remember their funerals, I remember not understanding. I understand now.
My parents were there when I started kindergarten, when I had my first broken heart, when I graduated high school. My dad walked me down the aisle the day I said "I do." My mom held my hand while I was in labor with Izabella. They were there for all of my life's "big moments." I am blessed and lucky for that. I know that without a doubt, because I have seen how much it hurts when your parents aren't able to be there.
I have watched my sister-in-law, Alyssa's, brother "give her away" at her wedding because her father passed away when she was still just a teenager. I have seen my cousins go through most of their "big moments" without their dads there to see. Kyle was just a baby when his dad passed away, and his older sister and brother were really just kids. Angie was so young when her dad passed, but the memories she does have she holds very close to her heart. Her older sister and brother were just young adults, just teenagers. That is what is not fair. Grandchildren born who never had the opportunity to meet their Paw Paws. Daughters whose fathers never got to "give them away." Sons whose dads never got to teach them to play ball or how to drive.
I am heartbroken to no longer have my parents. But I cannot deny how blessed I am to have had them for as long as I did.
In some ways maybe I don't know what true heartbreak is. I have watched both of my grandmothers bury their children. And I stood in a cemetery and watched my cousin bury the baby she carried within her body, the baby she loved, and felt move, but never got to hear cry. I do not know that pain. And I pray that I never have to.
I don't know their kind of pain, I just know my pain. I know the pain of having your whole world turned upside down in a matter of months.
The 26 year old me knows that death is a part of life. That I am lucky, blessed and fortunate to have had my parents for as long as I did. But the 6 year old me wants to cry, kick and scream, "It's NOT fair."
I miss them, I want them back. The heartache feels like it will never go away.
Friday, July 22, 2011
wants and needs.
Today I have been thinking a lot about the difference between wants and needs. If there is really a difference at all.
All day I have found myself thinking "I need them," then, like I parent correcting a child, I remind myself that I do not "need" them, I "want" them. (You do not "need" that video game, you "want" it.)
But I wonder if in some cases there is really isn't a difference. No, I do not need my parents to physically survive, I want them. But what about emotionally? Emotionally I feel as though I need them. I know that I will technically survive without them. But, in what condition? Will I be a better person? A stronger person? Or, will I come out irreversible broken? That outcome has yet to be seen.
What has got me thinking about this today while yesterday seemed to be a good day?
For the last 3 days I have been in a lot of physical pain, normal at this stage of pregnancy. My doctor's advice is to stay off of my feet as much as possible. Not exactly easy to do with a 18 month old. A very active 18 month old. And of course, I hate having a messy house. So, all day I have been thinking, "I need them." Not because I would expect them to be here cleaning my house and taking care of my child. But because the only thing I can think of that would make me feel better is laying on my parents' couch watching a movie with my mom, while my dad and Izabella are outside swinging watching the traffic go by...
All day I have found myself thinking "I need them," then, like I parent correcting a child, I remind myself that I do not "need" them, I "want" them. (You do not "need" that video game, you "want" it.)
But I wonder if in some cases there is really isn't a difference. No, I do not need my parents to physically survive, I want them. But what about emotionally? Emotionally I feel as though I need them. I know that I will technically survive without them. But, in what condition? Will I be a better person? A stronger person? Or, will I come out irreversible broken? That outcome has yet to be seen.
What has got me thinking about this today while yesterday seemed to be a good day?
For the last 3 days I have been in a lot of physical pain, normal at this stage of pregnancy. My doctor's advice is to stay off of my feet as much as possible. Not exactly easy to do with a 18 month old. A very active 18 month old. And of course, I hate having a messy house. So, all day I have been thinking, "I need them." Not because I would expect them to be here cleaning my house and taking care of my child. But because the only thing I can think of that would make me feel better is laying on my parents' couch watching a movie with my mom, while my dad and Izabella are outside swinging watching the traffic go by...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Moving Forward...
When my mom was in a coma I wrote to her in a journal everyday. I had hoped that when she woke up she would be able to read it, read about what she had been through, what we were going through without her. I still write in the journal, to her, every now and then, however I cannot bring myself to read what I wrote to her in those 21 days.
I do not need to read about what happened in those 3 weeks. I relive those days, and the 2 months before, in my head every day. I go over every single detail, searching for something that could have changed the outcome. My mind knows that I need to accept that what happened cannot be undone, my heart just won't accept it.
I do not know how to stop wishing they would come back. I still need them. There are days that I still pick up the phone to call them, and my heart breaks all over again when I remember that they can't pick up. I need my Mother's advice, my Father's reassurance. I need their love. It's really that simple.
I've been trying really hard to figure out how to move forward with my life. Not move on, not forget them, but to take their memories, their love and all that they had taught me and move forward. I have realized that it's all about baby steps. It's the little steps along the way that will get you to where you need to be.
Here is what I have figured out so far... You LIVE. Life doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. There is no pause button that you can press and resume when you are ready. Life goes on.
There are still people here with me who love me, who need me. So, I get out of bed every day when I hear this little voice come on the monitor. I put a smile on my face, and we play, sing, dance, laugh. I read to her and teach her things. I comfort her when she is sad, reassure her when she is scared. We cuddle and I steal kisses. In those sweet moments, life is perfect. In those moments, I realize that everything my parents taught me, remained with me when they left, that a piece of them lives on in me, in my brothers, and in their grandchildren.
Of course, there are sad days, sad moments in every day. But I fight through them, determined to come out in one piece, determined to be the strong person I was raised to be. I know that this journey will have many steps, some forward, some backwards. Some happy moments, some sad, some bittersweet. But, it is a journey that I have to take, it is my life, my reality, and no matter how hard, I have to accept it, to learn to live with it.
I miss their voices, and I know what I can do to hear them. Pressing "play" on the DVD player once my wedding video is in has proven to be harder than I thought. Baby steps. I'll keep taking these "baby steps" until I get "there."
(As I am typing this at the kitchen counter, Bella is watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in the living room. I've had to stop writing 4 times in 30 minutes though, because when she pokes at me and puts her arms up for me to pick her up, I just can't resist. She wants to cuddle on the sofa with Mommy, and if there was one lesson my parents taught me, it's that you always put your children first.)
I do not need to read about what happened in those 3 weeks. I relive those days, and the 2 months before, in my head every day. I go over every single detail, searching for something that could have changed the outcome. My mind knows that I need to accept that what happened cannot be undone, my heart just won't accept it.
I do not know how to stop wishing they would come back. I still need them. There are days that I still pick up the phone to call them, and my heart breaks all over again when I remember that they can't pick up. I need my Mother's advice, my Father's reassurance. I need their love. It's really that simple.
I've been trying really hard to figure out how to move forward with my life. Not move on, not forget them, but to take their memories, their love and all that they had taught me and move forward. I have realized that it's all about baby steps. It's the little steps along the way that will get you to where you need to be.
Here is what I have figured out so far... You LIVE. Life doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. There is no pause button that you can press and resume when you are ready. Life goes on.
There are still people here with me who love me, who need me. So, I get out of bed every day when I hear this little voice come on the monitor. I put a smile on my face, and we play, sing, dance, laugh. I read to her and teach her things. I comfort her when she is sad, reassure her when she is scared. We cuddle and I steal kisses. In those sweet moments, life is perfect. In those moments, I realize that everything my parents taught me, remained with me when they left, that a piece of them lives on in me, in my brothers, and in their grandchildren.
Of course, there are sad days, sad moments in every day. But I fight through them, determined to come out in one piece, determined to be the strong person I was raised to be. I know that this journey will have many steps, some forward, some backwards. Some happy moments, some sad, some bittersweet. But, it is a journey that I have to take, it is my life, my reality, and no matter how hard, I have to accept it, to learn to live with it.
I miss their voices, and I know what I can do to hear them. Pressing "play" on the DVD player once my wedding video is in has proven to be harder than I thought. Baby steps. I'll keep taking these "baby steps" until I get "there."
(As I am typing this at the kitchen counter, Bella is watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in the living room. I've had to stop writing 4 times in 30 minutes though, because when she pokes at me and puts her arms up for me to pick her up, I just can't resist. She wants to cuddle on the sofa with Mommy, and if there was one lesson my parents taught me, it's that you always put your children first.)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
My Mom.
January 2, 2011.
Zeb and I were on our way home from the Saints game, we had just ordered our food at Popeyes when Shane called and told me to get to the hospital, something was wrong with Mom. So, that is were we headed. The next few hours were very frustrating for all of us, for many reasons.
When I got to her side there were a couple of nurses trying to start an IV and draw blood, they were not very successful. I watched as the poked and poked my mom with needle after needle, even in her thumb. The tears in her eyes broke my heart. She was on this oxygen mask, not sure what its called, but it prevented her from talking. Her oxygen levels were very low and they didn't know why. I stayed with her til she told me to go home. I had a doctors appointment the next day to confirm my pregnancy, I told her I would see her right after. I kissed my mommy's cheek, told her I loved her and left.
January 3, 2011, the day our world turned upside down, again. Zeb and I were waiting for the doctor when we were called, I don't even remember by who, and told to get to the hospital right away, they were putting Mom on life support. I don't know the exact events of that morning, when I got there, she was intubated. I wouldn't be able to see her until the moved her to ICU. We had no idea of what was going on.
Shane and I waited in the little room where the doctors talk to the families, I hate those rooms. I remember the conversation we had like it was yesterday...
Shane: Em, this is really bad, Mom wants to be with Dad.
Me: No, God is not that cruel, he won't take her from us.
The next couple of hours are a blur. I don't remember who I talked to or what I heard, but this is what I know... My mom was in a coma from complications from the FLU. Yes, the flu. I remember breathing a sigh of relief, it was just the flu. We just had to be patient, wait for her body to fight off the flu, then she would wake up. I had hope and was so optimistic...
Then a week goes by, she still isn't awake and they cant give us any definite answers as to why. We knew that it could be for a few reasons, one of which was that her brain had suffered a low oxygen brain injury, one was that it was from the flu. I could not see her the first 8 days. The flu is contagious, and not safe for a woman in her first tri-mester. So, I sat in the ICU lobby and watched as our family went in and out, searching their faces for some sign of hope.
I wanted to be with my mom, I wanted to hold her hand and talk to her. When her doctors finally gave me the "okay" I really had a moment of "she will wake up as soon as she hears my voice." Wishful thinking. Every single day for the next 2 weeks I talked to my mom, I told her about my due date, about how sick I was feeling, about all the new things Izabella was learning. I talked to her about Izabella's birthday party, I told her she had to be there. For 2 weeks I talked to my mom every day, and prayed she could here me.
At the end of the 2nd week, beginning of the 3rd, something incredible happened, my mom opened her eyes! We had hope again. She was not focusing on anything, but still it was a sign of improvement, at least to us. But, after a few days, we all had to admit to ourselves that while her eyes were opening, she just wasn't there. We still had no definite answers, and my hope was fading fast.
21 days after my mom slipped into a coma, 2 months and 21 days after we said goodbye to our father, my brothers and I along with our spouses and grandmother gathered into one of those little rooms, with the same doctor who had told us our dad had no brain activity, and were once again given bad news. She wasn't improving, she should have been, he now believed that she was in a coma because of a low oxygen brain injury, he did not believe she would ever wake up. We had a choice to make, leave her on life support and transfer her to a long term care facility, or let her go.
It was never really our decision to make. We knew what our mom would have wanted, or rather what she would not have wanted.
January 24, 2011, 10:15pm, my mother joined my father in heaven and my heart was irreversibly crushed.
I was the only daughter, so my aunt and I picked out what my mom would be buried wearing, and I was able to do her hair and makeup. She was so beautiful. I gave her eulogy, and I watched as hundreds and hundreds of people cried and said goodbye to a woman who had touched their life, the woman who gave me life. I watched them close my moms casket, knowing I would never get to see her again, completely numb. I remained that way for quite some time, unable to process what I had just went through. There are many days that I still feel that way. I had promised to take care of her, and I have never felt more like a failure.
My family has not been all together since the day we laid our Mom to rest. I am not sure when we will be, I am not sure what it will be like, what we will be like. I do know that our parents taught us to love one another, and that we do.
Zeb and I were on our way home from the Saints game, we had just ordered our food at Popeyes when Shane called and told me to get to the hospital, something was wrong with Mom. So, that is were we headed. The next few hours were very frustrating for all of us, for many reasons.
When I got to her side there were a couple of nurses trying to start an IV and draw blood, they were not very successful. I watched as the poked and poked my mom with needle after needle, even in her thumb. The tears in her eyes broke my heart. She was on this oxygen mask, not sure what its called, but it prevented her from talking. Her oxygen levels were very low and they didn't know why. I stayed with her til she told me to go home. I had a doctors appointment the next day to confirm my pregnancy, I told her I would see her right after. I kissed my mommy's cheek, told her I loved her and left.
January 3, 2011, the day our world turned upside down, again. Zeb and I were waiting for the doctor when we were called, I don't even remember by who, and told to get to the hospital right away, they were putting Mom on life support. I don't know the exact events of that morning, when I got there, she was intubated. I wouldn't be able to see her until the moved her to ICU. We had no idea of what was going on.
Shane and I waited in the little room where the doctors talk to the families, I hate those rooms. I remember the conversation we had like it was yesterday...
Shane: Em, this is really bad, Mom wants to be with Dad.
Me: No, God is not that cruel, he won't take her from us.
The next couple of hours are a blur. I don't remember who I talked to or what I heard, but this is what I know... My mom was in a coma from complications from the FLU. Yes, the flu. I remember breathing a sigh of relief, it was just the flu. We just had to be patient, wait for her body to fight off the flu, then she would wake up. I had hope and was so optimistic...
Then a week goes by, she still isn't awake and they cant give us any definite answers as to why. We knew that it could be for a few reasons, one of which was that her brain had suffered a low oxygen brain injury, one was that it was from the flu. I could not see her the first 8 days. The flu is contagious, and not safe for a woman in her first tri-mester. So, I sat in the ICU lobby and watched as our family went in and out, searching their faces for some sign of hope.
I wanted to be with my mom, I wanted to hold her hand and talk to her. When her doctors finally gave me the "okay" I really had a moment of "she will wake up as soon as she hears my voice." Wishful thinking. Every single day for the next 2 weeks I talked to my mom, I told her about my due date, about how sick I was feeling, about all the new things Izabella was learning. I talked to her about Izabella's birthday party, I told her she had to be there. For 2 weeks I talked to my mom every day, and prayed she could here me.
At the end of the 2nd week, beginning of the 3rd, something incredible happened, my mom opened her eyes! We had hope again. She was not focusing on anything, but still it was a sign of improvement, at least to us. But, after a few days, we all had to admit to ourselves that while her eyes were opening, she just wasn't there. We still had no definite answers, and my hope was fading fast.
21 days after my mom slipped into a coma, 2 months and 21 days after we said goodbye to our father, my brothers and I along with our spouses and grandmother gathered into one of those little rooms, with the same doctor who had told us our dad had no brain activity, and were once again given bad news. She wasn't improving, she should have been, he now believed that she was in a coma because of a low oxygen brain injury, he did not believe she would ever wake up. We had a choice to make, leave her on life support and transfer her to a long term care facility, or let her go.
It was never really our decision to make. We knew what our mom would have wanted, or rather what she would not have wanted.
January 24, 2011, 10:15pm, my mother joined my father in heaven and my heart was irreversibly crushed.
I was the only daughter, so my aunt and I picked out what my mom would be buried wearing, and I was able to do her hair and makeup. She was so beautiful. I gave her eulogy, and I watched as hundreds and hundreds of people cried and said goodbye to a woman who had touched their life, the woman who gave me life. I watched them close my moms casket, knowing I would never get to see her again, completely numb. I remained that way for quite some time, unable to process what I had just went through. There are many days that I still feel that way. I had promised to take care of her, and I have never felt more like a failure.
My family has not been all together since the day we laid our Mom to rest. I am not sure when we will be, I am not sure what it will be like, what we will be like. I do know that our parents taught us to love one another, and that we do.
All because two people fell in love...
Monday, June 27, 2011
My Gift.
I honestly can't tell you much about the day I found our we were expecting our second child. It was December 26, 2010, I dont remember that morning, I dont even remember going buy the tests. I know that I had a "feeling" no other reason to think that I was pregnant though. So, I took the first test, it was one of those 1 line=not pregnant, 2 lines=pregnant. There was a faint second line, so I took 2 more, the lines werent darker though, so I just went out and bought the Pregnant/not pregnant tests. After a total of 5 pregnancy tests, I admitted to myself that gagging on that egg, cheese and bacon sandwich was for a reason.
Zeb was offshore, and I couldnt call, so I emailed him asking him to call ASAP, and I waited. But, I had to tell someone, I called my mom and when I told her, hearing the fear in my voice (TWO babies under TWO, yikes), she replied "It's your gift from your dad, he wants you to have something happy to look forward to." She could not have imagined how right she would end up being.
When Zeb finally called me, he was over the moon happy, I was too. Sure, it was scary and it would be an adjustment, but this baby was our "gift," my mommy said so...
Zeb was offshore, and I couldnt call, so I emailed him asking him to call ASAP, and I waited. But, I had to tell someone, I called my mom and when I told her, hearing the fear in my voice (TWO babies under TWO, yikes), she replied "It's your gift from your dad, he wants you to have something happy to look forward to." She could not have imagined how right she would end up being.
When Zeb finally called me, he was over the moon happy, I was too. Sure, it was scary and it would be an adjustment, but this baby was our "gift," my mommy said so...
Friday, June 17, 2011
My Dad.
November 1, 2010.
It was a day that started out like a lot of my days did then. My husband, Zeb, was at a class for work about an hour away, my daughter, Izabella, then 9 months old was playing in the living room while I straightened up the house. I had just gotten off the phone with my Mom, she was at school, I called to tell her hello, and to talk a little about the Saints vs Steelers game Zeb and I had went to the night before. I left my phone on my bed and went to check on Bella. By the time I got back to my phone I had a missed call from my sister-in-law, Alyssa. Before I could call her back my oldest brother, Shane, was calling, for the brief second before I answered I thought he was calling to talk about the game.
That phone call, the words that came next, changed my life. "You need to get to the hospital, it's Dad, it's bad." My dad had his 3rd heart attack only 3 weeks before, Shane had called me then too, but this call was different. He couldn't tell me if Dad was alive or not, he honestly didn't know. I don't remember more of that conversation, if there was more. I remember falling to my knees and begging God not to do this.
My phone started ringing again, it was Alyssa, she was hysterical. I later learned it was because she had been the one who found him, she stopped by with her 2 boys to surprise Paw Paw with a visit. Her surprise visit gave us 2 extra days with my father. She is our angel, though I doubt she will ever believe that. I begged her to tell me if my dad was alive, she couldn't answer either, she just didn't know.
The next hour was a blur. I know my in-laws managed to drive me to the hospital, and that someone, maybe me, got in touch with my husband. I received 2 phone calls on the way there, one from Shane telling me that my dad was gone. The other from Shane's aunt-in-law, I cant really remember who, telling me he wasn't! They had found a heartbeat and he had a blood pressure, we had hope.
In the hours that followed time seemed to stand still. Waiting, that was all we could do. Wait and pray. Pray and beg. I did a lot of begging in those first several hours. Begged God for more time with my father, begged God to give my daughter more time with her grandfather. I held my mothers hand, I remember thinking, "Please God, she wont survive without him."
Then the doctors came out and we all crowded into a small room, where they explained that while it wasn't good, his heart was stable for now. But, because no one knew how long his brain had been without oxygen, we had to wait for the results of his EEG to give us more information. That would not take place til the next day.
We weren't able to see him for a few more hours, when we were I begged him to fight, we all did.
The next day Shane pulled me into the Chapel in the ICU lobby. He told me that our Dad had no brain activity. He told me that he would not wake up. I don't remember much of what he said after that. He then told our youngest brother Carl, followed by Steven. I cant imagine how hard it was for him to get those words out. He explained to the 3 of us that our Mom wanted our blessing before taking our Dad off of life support. We spent the rest of the day there, with our dad during visiting hours, with each other when we couldn't be with our dad.
They did a repeat of the EEG the next morning and it showed the same thing, no brain activity. We began to say our goodbyes. It had been decided at some point that I would not stay once he was taken off of the machines, so I said goodbye to my father, I promised him I would take care of my mom, we all did, I asked him to watch over my daughter and I promised him that she would always know how much he loved her, how incredible he was. I gave him one last kiss and walked out of his room and waited.
My mom came out shortly after, I honestly don't know why, if she needed a few minutes, if my brothers thought it was best, or if she thought she would have more time to go back in. She asked to hold Izabella, I placed her granddaughter in her arms. Shane came out only a few minutes later and wrapped his arms around my mom. I only heard the words "hes gone." I had never known what heartbreak looked like until I saw my Mother's face the moment her first born told her that her husband was gone.
November 3, 2010, around noon, maybe a little after, my Daddy got his wings. It had been 3 days since I last heard his voice, and it already felt like a lifetime...
I cannot tell you much about the wake and funeral. I was in a daze. We all were. I knew it would be a long time before any of us were able to breathe again.
Thanksgiving was the next time our family would be together, the first time we would be without our dad for a holiday. It wasn't easy, Christmas came next, it was even harder. I remember watching my mom in those 2 months following my dads death, wishing I could take her pain her away.
Then came the day after Christmas, a bright spot in what seemed like an endless night...
It was a day that started out like a lot of my days did then. My husband, Zeb, was at a class for work about an hour away, my daughter, Izabella, then 9 months old was playing in the living room while I straightened up the house. I had just gotten off the phone with my Mom, she was at school, I called to tell her hello, and to talk a little about the Saints vs Steelers game Zeb and I had went to the night before. I left my phone on my bed and went to check on Bella. By the time I got back to my phone I had a missed call from my sister-in-law, Alyssa. Before I could call her back my oldest brother, Shane, was calling, for the brief second before I answered I thought he was calling to talk about the game.
That phone call, the words that came next, changed my life. "You need to get to the hospital, it's Dad, it's bad." My dad had his 3rd heart attack only 3 weeks before, Shane had called me then too, but this call was different. He couldn't tell me if Dad was alive or not, he honestly didn't know. I don't remember more of that conversation, if there was more. I remember falling to my knees and begging God not to do this.
My phone started ringing again, it was Alyssa, she was hysterical. I later learned it was because she had been the one who found him, she stopped by with her 2 boys to surprise Paw Paw with a visit. Her surprise visit gave us 2 extra days with my father. She is our angel, though I doubt she will ever believe that. I begged her to tell me if my dad was alive, she couldn't answer either, she just didn't know.
The next hour was a blur. I know my in-laws managed to drive me to the hospital, and that someone, maybe me, got in touch with my husband. I received 2 phone calls on the way there, one from Shane telling me that my dad was gone. The other from Shane's aunt-in-law, I cant really remember who, telling me he wasn't! They had found a heartbeat and he had a blood pressure, we had hope.
In the hours that followed time seemed to stand still. Waiting, that was all we could do. Wait and pray. Pray and beg. I did a lot of begging in those first several hours. Begged God for more time with my father, begged God to give my daughter more time with her grandfather. I held my mothers hand, I remember thinking, "Please God, she wont survive without him."
Then the doctors came out and we all crowded into a small room, where they explained that while it wasn't good, his heart was stable for now. But, because no one knew how long his brain had been without oxygen, we had to wait for the results of his EEG to give us more information. That would not take place til the next day.
We weren't able to see him for a few more hours, when we were I begged him to fight, we all did.
The next day Shane pulled me into the Chapel in the ICU lobby. He told me that our Dad had no brain activity. He told me that he would not wake up. I don't remember much of what he said after that. He then told our youngest brother Carl, followed by Steven. I cant imagine how hard it was for him to get those words out. He explained to the 3 of us that our Mom wanted our blessing before taking our Dad off of life support. We spent the rest of the day there, with our dad during visiting hours, with each other when we couldn't be with our dad.
They did a repeat of the EEG the next morning and it showed the same thing, no brain activity. We began to say our goodbyes. It had been decided at some point that I would not stay once he was taken off of the machines, so I said goodbye to my father, I promised him I would take care of my mom, we all did, I asked him to watch over my daughter and I promised him that she would always know how much he loved her, how incredible he was. I gave him one last kiss and walked out of his room and waited.
My mom came out shortly after, I honestly don't know why, if she needed a few minutes, if my brothers thought it was best, or if she thought she would have more time to go back in. She asked to hold Izabella, I placed her granddaughter in her arms. Shane came out only a few minutes later and wrapped his arms around my mom. I only heard the words "hes gone." I had never known what heartbreak looked like until I saw my Mother's face the moment her first born told her that her husband was gone.
November 3, 2010, around noon, maybe a little after, my Daddy got his wings. It had been 3 days since I last heard his voice, and it already felt like a lifetime...
I cannot tell you much about the wake and funeral. I was in a daze. We all were. I knew it would be a long time before any of us were able to breathe again.
Thanksgiving was the next time our family would be together, the first time we would be without our dad for a holiday. It wasn't easy, Christmas came next, it was even harder. I remember watching my mom in those 2 months following my dads death, wishing I could take her pain her away.
Then came the day after Christmas, a bright spot in what seemed like an endless night...
My Story.
There are said to be 5 stages of grief... denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But, did you know they were developed for the dying, not for the ones left behind? That's what I am, one of those who have been left behind.
I have spent the last 7 months trying to cope with the death of my father, and I have spent the last 5 months trying to cope with the death of my mother. I do not believe that there is any wrong way to grieve, I am certain we all do it differently. I am also certain that I feel like I am drowning in a sea of emotions, confusion, frustration and questions... This is my way of trying to fight back to the top. My way of trying to breathe...
I am not sure what I am hoping to get from this, other than getting my feelings out there, sharing them with someone other than myself. I hope that maybe along the way my experiences may even help someone else. At the very least I hope it helps my family and friends to understand a little more of what I am going through, how I am doing, I know the generic answer of "I'm OK" is a little vague.
There are a few things you should know first, to help you understand... I am not going through this alone, I have an amazing support system made up of incredible people. But, that doesn't always help. Although some days I find myself considerably sad and depressed, it always fades when I see my beautiful daughter, or feel the one I have yet to meet kick me. And lastly, my story is shared with 3 other people, although our versions of those 3 months may vary a little, we all go through things a little differently, they are still the only 3 people on this earth who experienced the 2 biggest heartbreaks of their lives at exactly the same time as I did. I can't tell you how my brothers are coping, what they go through on a daily basis, the 4 of us do not communicate our emotions very well. I guess you can say its a common fault we share. I don't know if they will read this, I hope that if they do it helps them, even if it is just in a small way.
My story, starts the way a lot of stories do, with a phone call...
It was November 1, 2010, my oldest brother Shane was calling, for the brief second before I answered, I thought he was calling to talk about the game. That phone call changed my life. He was breathless, "you need to get to the hospital, its dad, its bad." I asked if he was alive, he couldn't answer me, he honestly didn't know. I cant remember more of that conversation, I don't know if there is more. I just know that 2 days later he was gone.
On December 26, 2010, I took a test, the kind you don't have to study for. I had no real reason to believe I was pregnant, no reason not to either, it was positive, my mom was the 1st person I told, even before my husband. It was a good day.
On January 2, 2011, another phone call, they were rushing my mom to the hospital, they didn't know what was wrong. The next day she went into a coma. 21 days later, she was gone.
(That is only a brief run down of the events of those 3 months, I will go into detail of each of them, if you care to continue, thank you, if you don't thanks for making it this far!)
I have no way of going back to being the person I was on October 31, 2010, and yet I still am not sure of the person I am now.
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal." --From a Headstone in Ireland
I have spent the last 7 months trying to cope with the death of my father, and I have spent the last 5 months trying to cope with the death of my mother. I do not believe that there is any wrong way to grieve, I am certain we all do it differently. I am also certain that I feel like I am drowning in a sea of emotions, confusion, frustration and questions... This is my way of trying to fight back to the top. My way of trying to breathe...
I am not sure what I am hoping to get from this, other than getting my feelings out there, sharing them with someone other than myself. I hope that maybe along the way my experiences may even help someone else. At the very least I hope it helps my family and friends to understand a little more of what I am going through, how I am doing, I know the generic answer of "I'm OK" is a little vague.
There are a few things you should know first, to help you understand... I am not going through this alone, I have an amazing support system made up of incredible people. But, that doesn't always help. Although some days I find myself considerably sad and depressed, it always fades when I see my beautiful daughter, or feel the one I have yet to meet kick me. And lastly, my story is shared with 3 other people, although our versions of those 3 months may vary a little, we all go through things a little differently, they are still the only 3 people on this earth who experienced the 2 biggest heartbreaks of their lives at exactly the same time as I did. I can't tell you how my brothers are coping, what they go through on a daily basis, the 4 of us do not communicate our emotions very well. I guess you can say its a common fault we share. I don't know if they will read this, I hope that if they do it helps them, even if it is just in a small way.
My story, starts the way a lot of stories do, with a phone call...
It was November 1, 2010, my oldest brother Shane was calling, for the brief second before I answered, I thought he was calling to talk about the game. That phone call changed my life. He was breathless, "you need to get to the hospital, its dad, its bad." I asked if he was alive, he couldn't answer me, he honestly didn't know. I cant remember more of that conversation, I don't know if there is more. I just know that 2 days later he was gone.
On December 26, 2010, I took a test, the kind you don't have to study for. I had no real reason to believe I was pregnant, no reason not to either, it was positive, my mom was the 1st person I told, even before my husband. It was a good day.
On January 2, 2011, another phone call, they were rushing my mom to the hospital, they didn't know what was wrong. The next day she went into a coma. 21 days later, she was gone.
(That is only a brief run down of the events of those 3 months, I will go into detail of each of them, if you care to continue, thank you, if you don't thanks for making it this far!)
I have no way of going back to being the person I was on October 31, 2010, and yet I still am not sure of the person I am now.
"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal." --From a Headstone in Ireland
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)