I've been wanting to write something for a while now. I've been holding a lot of my thoughts in or talking to them to certain people, but not others and thought this would be a good way to find healing, comfort and get my thoughts out there. I hope no one is hurt or offended by my comments on here. I'm just expressing my inner thoughts.
This spring has hit me like a freight train. I look back at the last 8-9 months of my life and I think "how is it almost June already?!" Where did the time go? My life has been in a tailspin for a while now and it has consumed me. I literally feel like I've lost months of my life.
Obviously, the biggest life changing event over the last 6 months has been my dad dying. It has devastated me. But even before he died, things at home were a challenge. I won't go into details, but my marriage was hanging on by a very thin thread and it was getting unbearable. I tried doing the "right" thing and I tried being the "good" person and doing all the things I thought I should have been doing. The problem was, it wasn't working and it was all wrong. The things I was dealing with aside from my dad dying were things that would have stressed any person, any marriage, anyone's sanity. So why did my dad have to die in the middle of all of that? Why did God let it all happen? Those are the questions that plague me daily.
The thing that eats me up inside is that I was mad at my dad at the time he died. I felt like he wasn't very supportive with the things that were going on at home. I know it wasn't his strong suit to step in and be emotionally supportive, but it was what I needed. And because he couldn't give me what I needed, I got mad at him. The last time I talked to him, I hung up on him and I never called him back when he called the week before he died because things were falling apart at home and there were things I had to deal with immediately. I figured I would talk to him on my birthday. He never got the chance to wish me a happy birthday.
My new normal started the afternoon of December 14th. I thought losing my grandpa on my birthday 2 years before had a huge emotional impact on my life, but it was nothing compared to what happened this year on my birthday. At 3:20pm, my brother's girlfriend called to tell me my dad was in the emergency room and was being intubated. I was so confused. I had no idea what she was talking about and needed to let it all sink in. I called Shane to meet me at home and told him we needed to get up north. That's when he told me there was a surprise party planned for me that night. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered at this point except my dad.
As I was driving home, my brother's girlfriend called to say my dad had coded and they didn't have a pulse. I was on the freeway, sobbing, literally freaking out. She called back 20 minutes later to say they got his pulse back but we needed to get up there ASAP. We packed quickly, gave our sister in law the keys and instructions for the pets and headed up north. It was 2 hours of somberness. I had no idea if he was going to be ok, or how serious this was or what. I thought we may need to stay up there for a few days, but would be home and everything would be fine.
When we got to the hospital at 6:45pm, my brother and his girlfriend were waiting outside for us. Anyone who knows me, knows my brother and I do not have a very good relationship. We've barely spoken for years, but on this cold bitter winter night, all he could do was be my big brother. We got out of the car and he started talking and I couldn't comprehend it all. I just needed him to tell me what was going on. He was irritated with me, but said "Dana, he's not going to make it through the night". My heart sank and a piece of me died in that moment. I literally thought I was going to pee my pants and throw up. My knees buckled and I couldn't find the strength to stand. Shane helped me up and hugged me and then my brother grabbed me and held me as tight as he could. He understood the pain of the words he had to tell me. He hated that he had to say them, but he understood because he heard them hours before. He was trying to be strong for me because he knew I wouldn't be able to. They took me in and he told me the details of what had happened.
Cancer. Plain and simple. And my dad never knew.
We went upstairs to the ICU to see him. He was never conscious after they intubated him and he coded. I sobbed for hours. I couldn't breathe. I didn't know if he could hear me when I said how sorry I was and how much I loved him. He was my daddy. And I was losing him way too soon, and on my birthday, 2 years after his dad died on my birthday. At 9:30pm, he went to join Grandpa with God.
The weeks that followed were a blur. I was in shock. I couldn't believe this had happened again. The guilt was burying me alive. All I could do was cry. Cry for all the things I should have done. Cry for the things that I shouldn't have done. Cry. Cry. Cry. I didn't understand. In my dad's final moments I had to comfort my grandma and tell her that God wasn't punishing her by taking one of her children before her. I had to remind this woman of great faith that our god is not a punishing god. All the while, I am feeling like I'm being punished for the arguments we had before he died. I'm feeling like my punishment was him dying on my birthday.
Then my grief was put on hold. The problems in my marriage were taking a front seat to my grief and I wasn't able to focus on processing through my grief. The 2 months that followed, I had to step up and be strong. I had to take care of things and was running on auto pilot for 2 1/2 months. The last 2 1/2 months were the start of being able to heal. Even though there were still struggles in my marriage, I could start focusing on healing.
I know they say everyone's grief is unique, but to me, it was very personal. I had the added grief of dealing with my birthday and the guilt that plagued me. I still struggle with both of these things today. My grief is different from that of my family. I'm 100 miles away. I've always been 100 miles away. My grieving process is more about emotions than it is about getting things in order or organizing belongings. Sometimes I think if I could have helped get things in order or organize belongings, I would have felt like I was helping. I was there when he died, but his absence wasn't tangible to me when I returned home. I was grieving from afar and sometimes, I felt left out. I felt like an outcast. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be this upset and I shouldn't have been this devastated because he wasn't a daily part of my life. Who was I to be upset when I only saw him a few times a year? It wasn't my right to be so devastated. (for the record, it wasn't anything anyone said or did that made me feel this way. It was just the different situation I faced than the rest of the family)
At the same time, I felt paralyzed by my guilt. I could sit in a room with people I knew and feel like I was screaming and no one could hear me. I felt like "here I am and nobody cares". The funeral was over. Life goes on. What's her problem? I still feel this way. I can't forget what happened. It profoundly changed me. I am healing, but it is a slow process. Very slow. And when I feel like people expect me to be back to normal, I have to remember that the normal I knew before isn't the normal I know now. I have a new normal.
For right now, My New Normal is a daily struggle to get out of bed every morning. It's resisting the urge to cry at my desk or all day long for that matter. It's praying that God reveals His plan for me in all of this. It's trying to enjoy the little things without feeling overwhelmed. It's crying at reminders of Father's Day. It's realizing I'm 35 years old and my life isn't where I thought it was or where I wanted it to be and I don't know if it ever will. It's knowing each day, my husband and I need to TRY to make our marriage work. It's turning to God in all this darkness and finding that glimmer of hope to keep me going one. more. day.
Last Thursday was the last day of my GriefShare group (I highly recommend it. www.griefshare.org). The topic was on Heaven. The vision that gets me through each day is knowing that someday, my dad and I will be together again, but there will be no more pain. There will be no more hurt. There won't be any fighting or guilt. I will finally feel the love he had for me, but was never able to express. He will wrap his arms around me and tell me it's all ok and that we are with God now where none of that other stuff matters. And then he will take me to the table where we will take on Gramps in a wicked game of cribbage.
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