HI Folks,
Well...tomorrow is the day. My Dad has been gone 31 years. It makes the week of Christmas especially hard for my brother and me while everyone around us is partying it up...our minds are elsewhere.
So I thought I'd write a letter to my Dad, even though I can't really send it. I believe in mediums and psychics, though I certainly don't live my life or make my decisions based upon their words. I do because I remember my Dad always telling us to look for signs, because, if he ever died we'd find them and it would be him trying to contact us. I've had too many signs and close calls in the last 31 years NOT to believe it. I respect those who don't, but I certainly believe. So I believe he will see it...just not in the conventional way.
Dear Dad,
I can't even imagine what you, a young father of only 47 years old, must have been thinking on this day, the day before you died, 31 years ago. I've been thinking about it alot. You had your heart attack in July, right between my birthday and yours and were in the hospital, then out, then we drove back to Montana for school to start. You were really sick in the car on the way home-so I drove. All of 16 and driving from MA to MT, with Bob in the passenger seat and you in the back resting. Still, you encouraged me, calmed me when I got scared driving all that way and reminded us to note the H (for hospital) signs along the way in case we needed to get you to one. Thankfully, we didn't.
I can only imagine you, knowing you needed surgery that may or may not save your life...having the tape you made us during that time is precious and I'm still not trusting enough to give it to someone to convert to CD. I'm going to try and get the courage to do that this year so we have it forever. I imagine you wanting us to know many things, because you knew you wouldn't be here to tell us, teach us, love us. Since I'm the same age you were I look at Little K and Little Mista (though they're not my kids, just the closest kids to me that I love) and think that my heart would be breaking, knowing I probably wouldn't see them grow up.
So, as an adult, my heart breaks for you as a person and a parent. As a kid, my heart just breaks, missing you.
Back in 1980 there were no quadruple bypasses (which you needed) or barely any triples...those were really new. Today those are both routine and folks are saved every day from what they learned from patients like you. Uncle Dick was saved because of this technology, I'm just sad it came too late for you.
You spent this day, Dec. 20, 1980 trying to recover from the surgery and live. I'm not sure what do we came to see you there, I can't remember whether it was this date or a day or 2 earlier...I just know my last memory-you were hooked up to tubes, couldn't talk really and saw me and cried.
I knew that was different than the Dad I knew always being strong for us and telling us "I'll be home soon and we'll go Xmas shopping. Your old Dad will be ok."
Then the call came-I remember Mom handed me the phone and it was Uncle Dick on the phone, from the hospital. "Your Dad didn't make it." Life was changed forever.
You taught me to be open, caring, loving. You told me the most important thing in life was to love and you loved Bob and me with everything. We felt it and we will never forget it. You said you wanted us to be healthy, happy and successful. You told us you wished your son would never go to war and he didn't.
Well, I've committed myself to be healthy since you left and Bob has gotten on the bandwagon too. We are happy but we certainly could be more successful (as anyone would say). So we've done what you wished for us and we will keep doing it.
I hope you're proud of us but I think you are. I hope, with all my heart, you can see us and know and see what we do. Whenever I see a dragonfly I know it's you. There was a HUGE one on our garage this summer, huge...and I knew that was one of the signs you taught us about. You also said we'd see birds and, at our house, there's a nest in our little tree, one in our bird house and one in our Japanese maple-we're surrounded each year and again I know it's you.
So my Xmas wish is the same as every other year since 1980-and I know it won't come true but I'm not willing to NOT make that wish.
One more day, that's all I want. A little girl's wish-even though I'm not so little anymore.
Love and miss you, Daddy.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
December is here!
Hi to anyone still reading!
The most wonderful time of the year? For most...honestly not for me.
December 5 today and, well, I've gotten shopping 99% done (just have to regroup this week, see what I have, mail what needs to be sent, etc...) and I just finished making my holiday cookies. It's really nice to be able to stand for that long (rolling out cookie dough, cutting cookies and baking them) without having to sit down. You just do not know how much your life is affected by chronic pain until it's over. And, I'm thankful mine is over-I know many people have no cure, I wish they did.
So, my Dad's passing anniversary is December 21 and, frankly, I've been thinking about it a lot. I know...I should be thinking about holiday cards (have them, just finishing up addressing/sending), decorating (done, except tree which will come after our staff party at our house this weekend)...but it's hard.
I guess it's harder this year because I'm the same age as my Dad when he passed and I cannot even fathom what he must have been thinking. I mean, he was facing death and I cannot think of that without crying. I am ONLY 47 and my Dad was ONLY 47. Back then this age felt so far away, I was only 16...and now that I'm here I still feel young and still feel that I have so much to learn and do and give.
I try and imagine how he must have felt knowing he would be leaving behind my brother and me, how young we were...how much he still probably wanted to teach us, see us accomplish: HS graduations, weddings. He has missed so much of our lives.
As you all know I couldn't have kids, but I do have 2 kids in my life I love beyond reason...Little Mista (age 10) and Little K (aged 15) and while they're not exactly the same age my brother and I were (we were 16 and 13), it's close...too close for me not to think about it.
I think of all the times I wished my Dad was here to advise me, listen to me...all the times a girl needs her Dad's shoulder to cry on that I missed. I think about all the things my brother would have gone through much easier if my Dad was here. I listen to folks say they are going shopping with their Dad or to a ballgame or that Dad is coming over to help paint or fix something...and I'm envious, sometimes even jealous. I miss him so much.
Everyone tells you that you will get 'over' it but you don't. And, I don't think it matters how old your parent is when they pass-I mean, obviously my Dad was really young and we were young when we lost him but many folks get their Dad in their lives until they themselves are in their 60's (with parents in the 80's or 90's) and I think that's wonderful...but I doubt it hurts any less. Maybe it's easier to understand and grasp because, well, if someone passes in the 80's or 90's you can say, "They led a long, wonderful life." Well, I can't say that about my Dad.
I feel like I have so many things left I want to see, experience, do, learn and impart to Little K and Little Mista. I would really like to be like Jackie and Joan (two clients and sisters in law) be heading out to dinner and a movie with Karen when we're in our 70's...I want to move back to SoCal with my husband and buy a little house near the beach and enjoy my home State, which I was taken away from way too young and that I miss very much. I want to go back to being the beach bum I am at heart.
So, I find myself counting the days right now...16 more days. If I only had 16 more days what would I do? Stress about shopping and planning and getting the holiday perfect? Or worrying about the credit card bill for it all? Was that what my Dad was doing? No. I try and remember, it's hard, but I remember him spending time with us. He made us a cassette tape of advice and when he was heading to the hospital (he ultimately had a procedure that didn't work and that's why he passed) he said, "Don't worry, your old Dad will be fine and when I get back we'll go Xmas shopping."
I remember I was going to HS and working at McD's evenings and weekends and I remember everyone asking me how he was doing. (He was in the hospital for a week or so I think...it's hard to remember) I remember the anxiety of worrying about him and hoping and praying and making deals with G-d for him to be alright. Maybe some of those feelings come back every year...now as I think about it, I think they definitely do.
We never got to go shopping. So, to be honest, no...Christmas is not my favorite holiday or time of the year and that's why. And, no, you don't get over it. I never say that to people you might notice because I know you don't and you won't and you shouldn't.
That is your Dad and as any little girl knows (no matter how old you are)...he's the very first prince in your life.
Well, I'm lucky because I did find another special prince in my life-my husband and I wish every day the two of them could have met. They would have been instant besties. And sometimes when Hubs is talking about technology and computers and math...I think, he should really be having this convo with my Dad not me! I think of how my Dad would have helped my husband through his first semester of teaching, I can almost hear him giving tips and them figuring out homework assignments together...they both would have loved it. But, it wasn't in the cards.
So, I would just like Dec. 21 to come...and go. It's funny, it's the day with the LEAST amount of daylight in the entire year and, in this house, it certainly feels that way so it's ironic, don't you think?
And, starting Dec. 22, I live my life, not only for me but in honor of my Dad. He didn't get to live past that day in his 47th year so I want to do somethings, maybe outside my box, that he would love and enjoy and be proud of me for doing. I've already tried to do that but I'm going to double my efforts because I intend to live to be a very, old lady...I'm thinking somewhere in the 107-111 area...because, on that tape of advice, my Dad said he really wanted us to live long, healthy lives-and I have every intention of doing just that.
(Oh and maybe that's another clue for all of you why I push you all so hard-because I never want your families to feel that missing feeling that I have...missing my Dad.)
Alright then...up and onto Dec. 21 and beyond...
Love you Dad.
The most wonderful time of the year? For most...honestly not for me.
December 5 today and, well, I've gotten shopping 99% done (just have to regroup this week, see what I have, mail what needs to be sent, etc...) and I just finished making my holiday cookies. It's really nice to be able to stand for that long (rolling out cookie dough, cutting cookies and baking them) without having to sit down. You just do not know how much your life is affected by chronic pain until it's over. And, I'm thankful mine is over-I know many people have no cure, I wish they did.
So, my Dad's passing anniversary is December 21 and, frankly, I've been thinking about it a lot. I know...I should be thinking about holiday cards (have them, just finishing up addressing/sending), decorating (done, except tree which will come after our staff party at our house this weekend)...but it's hard.
I guess it's harder this year because I'm the same age as my Dad when he passed and I cannot even fathom what he must have been thinking. I mean, he was facing death and I cannot think of that without crying. I am ONLY 47 and my Dad was ONLY 47. Back then this age felt so far away, I was only 16...and now that I'm here I still feel young and still feel that I have so much to learn and do and give.
I try and imagine how he must have felt knowing he would be leaving behind my brother and me, how young we were...how much he still probably wanted to teach us, see us accomplish: HS graduations, weddings. He has missed so much of our lives.
As you all know I couldn't have kids, but I do have 2 kids in my life I love beyond reason...Little Mista (age 10) and Little K (aged 15) and while they're not exactly the same age my brother and I were (we were 16 and 13), it's close...too close for me not to think about it.
I think of all the times I wished my Dad was here to advise me, listen to me...all the times a girl needs her Dad's shoulder to cry on that I missed. I think about all the things my brother would have gone through much easier if my Dad was here. I listen to folks say they are going shopping with their Dad or to a ballgame or that Dad is coming over to help paint or fix something...and I'm envious, sometimes even jealous. I miss him so much.
Everyone tells you that you will get 'over' it but you don't. And, I don't think it matters how old your parent is when they pass-I mean, obviously my Dad was really young and we were young when we lost him but many folks get their Dad in their lives until they themselves are in their 60's (with parents in the 80's or 90's) and I think that's wonderful...but I doubt it hurts any less. Maybe it's easier to understand and grasp because, well, if someone passes in the 80's or 90's you can say, "They led a long, wonderful life." Well, I can't say that about my Dad.
I feel like I have so many things left I want to see, experience, do, learn and impart to Little K and Little Mista. I would really like to be like Jackie and Joan (two clients and sisters in law) be heading out to dinner and a movie with Karen when we're in our 70's...I want to move back to SoCal with my husband and buy a little house near the beach and enjoy my home State, which I was taken away from way too young and that I miss very much. I want to go back to being the beach bum I am at heart.
So, I find myself counting the days right now...16 more days. If I only had 16 more days what would I do? Stress about shopping and planning and getting the holiday perfect? Or worrying about the credit card bill for it all? Was that what my Dad was doing? No. I try and remember, it's hard, but I remember him spending time with us. He made us a cassette tape of advice and when he was heading to the hospital (he ultimately had a procedure that didn't work and that's why he passed) he said, "Don't worry, your old Dad will be fine and when I get back we'll go Xmas shopping."
I remember I was going to HS and working at McD's evenings and weekends and I remember everyone asking me how he was doing. (He was in the hospital for a week or so I think...it's hard to remember) I remember the anxiety of worrying about him and hoping and praying and making deals with G-d for him to be alright. Maybe some of those feelings come back every year...now as I think about it, I think they definitely do.
We never got to go shopping. So, to be honest, no...Christmas is not my favorite holiday or time of the year and that's why. And, no, you don't get over it. I never say that to people you might notice because I know you don't and you won't and you shouldn't.
That is your Dad and as any little girl knows (no matter how old you are)...he's the very first prince in your life.
Well, I'm lucky because I did find another special prince in my life-my husband and I wish every day the two of them could have met. They would have been instant besties. And sometimes when Hubs is talking about technology and computers and math...I think, he should really be having this convo with my Dad not me! I think of how my Dad would have helped my husband through his first semester of teaching, I can almost hear him giving tips and them figuring out homework assignments together...they both would have loved it. But, it wasn't in the cards.
So, I would just like Dec. 21 to come...and go. It's funny, it's the day with the LEAST amount of daylight in the entire year and, in this house, it certainly feels that way so it's ironic, don't you think?
And, starting Dec. 22, I live my life, not only for me but in honor of my Dad. He didn't get to live past that day in his 47th year so I want to do somethings, maybe outside my box, that he would love and enjoy and be proud of me for doing. I've already tried to do that but I'm going to double my efforts because I intend to live to be a very, old lady...I'm thinking somewhere in the 107-111 area...because, on that tape of advice, my Dad said he really wanted us to live long, healthy lives-and I have every intention of doing just that.
(Oh and maybe that's another clue for all of you why I push you all so hard-because I never want your families to feel that missing feeling that I have...missing my Dad.)
Alright then...up and onto Dec. 21 and beyond...
Love you Dad.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
