I gotta stop staying up so late...
...all I do is think. And when I think too much it's never good. I start to remember, and then look up old emails and relive and reopen wounds. Although, I suppose a death in the family can't really be considered a wound that can heal, really, but rather, more a wound from which one can only suffer less pain as times plods along, but never really disappear altogether.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this to friends via email April 1, 2004:
"Hello to all my friends...
Things in my life are a might worse than just a few days ago, and light-years from where things were just a year ago. We brought my dad home from the hospital on Saturday, March 27 to begin hospice care--where you basically keep a dying person (someone with 6 months or less to live) comfortable and without pain until their time comes. It seemed like we might have a little while left with him, but just yesterday, the 31st, we had a visit from the hospice care nurse and social worker, who told us my dad has from just a few days to a week left, and then he'll be gone--forever.
I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling just yet, but it's not good, and it's not going to get better for awhile. I really wish he could go with a little more dignity, instead of just wasting away in bed at home, waiting for the cancer to suck the last breath from his body. It's been rather traumatic watching the strongest and most sincere person in my life melt away into a thin shadow of skin and bones, unaware of who comes and goes beside him.
There were dreams I didn’t know I had until I realized he wouldn’t be there to experience them with me. I didn’t know how much I wanted him to be at my graduation, until I realized he’d be long buried by the time my name would be called. I didn’t know how much I wanted him to give me away at my wedding, until I realized he would only be there in spirit, last knowing me only as his little girl. I didn’t know I wanted him to hold and kiss my future children, until I realized my kids will never know their grampa. My future husband will never have a father-son chat with my dad to “take care of his little girl.” My kids won’t get to hear stories about how my dad used to go hunting, what things were like for him growing up, or how he met my mom and traveled the world.
He’ll never call me “kiddo”, or “sport”, or “punkin”, ever again. We’ll never take another vacation just to ride a steam train ever again. He’ll never go off-roading with the Dirt Devils, or play poker with his buddies ever again. No more trips to Moab, no more trips to Mesquite, no more weekend matinees ever again.
My mom won’t get to enjoy her retirement with the only man she’s ever loved. She met him at 16 years old while working on his army base, and married him soon after. I can’t even imagine what she feels, especially after being married to him for over 30 years… All I can do is hold her when she cries.
Take care that your parents are frequently examined medically and get checked more frequently as they age. My father was diagnosed with cancer last fall, around October, and now, in April, he will likely be gone just a couple months before his 62nd birthday on June 21st. We found the cancer at an advanced stage. He had lung cancer, yet he never smoked. It had metastasized (spread) to his spine and brain by time he was diagnosed. The back pain he experienced for months before his diagnosis was a symptom of the cancer in his spine. Pain is among some of the last symptoms many cancer victims experience, and like my father is right now, many find themselves dying when the cancer spread to vital areas or organs.
Take care of yourselves and your families now and in the coming years, and tell them you love them often, everyday even. I love all of you, and in the next few weeks and months of my life, I may need you more than ever. Thank you all for being there for me and letting me know you care. It really means a lot to know I have friends who really care about me. Thank you all very much…
Take care,
Laura Lesher"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the very least, though... I got some really great responses from some very good friends, I'm not going to include names in case people don't appreciate their emails to me being broadcasted:
--"Man, im sooooo sorry to hear your situation. i dont know what i'd do if i was in your situation. im so proud of u for going thru all of this, for sharing all this with us, allowing us to help you. WHENEVER u need anyone to talk to, to hang out with, just give me a call. i wish you the best (or breast? lol, sorry just trying to lighten the mood). laura, honestly, whenever u feel the need to go out and hang out with friends, sing karaoke and stuff or whatever, just gimme a call, ***** and i'll arrange something. i'll call the ***** up, since i'm the *****, they'll listen to me and we'll go watch a movie, go to hooters, go to a strip club, or go watch ***** work on the corner---- ANYTHING! it sucks being alone when u need people to be around you, and i'm there for u. sometimes, it helps just being around people just to help easy the pain for a couple of hours, ya know? as for your dad, tell him i wish him the best. im pretty sure he doesnt know me, but i know him. i've personally never met him, but i remember what a great guy he was... lending his tools so we can use on photasia. he has to be a great guy, to raise such a wonderful (although kinda dirrrrty.. hehe) like you. im 1000% sure he's proud to be your dad. just know that your dad is going to a better place, a place that will end all of his pain and suffering. losing your dad is tough and we, your csuf family, will be here to help u through all of this. call me ANYTIME!!!!"
~~From a close friend, moreso now than even then, actually... he knows me pretty well, I'd have to say. Sympathy with a little personal humor never hurts. Laughing, even in sadness, is quite therapeutic... it's what kept me from going completely numb then
--"I am so sorry to hear about how hard everything has been lately. Stay strong. I know that you and your family have suffered some difficult months. It's not quite the same but I went through this with my grampa and his lung cancer too. It was very hard for me because I have always known my grampa as a strong-willed, independent person who had very simple, subtle ways to show he cared, and I know that you see your dad in the same way. Also my dad is 66 now and he has been having to get a lot of checkups lately with his heart, and just recently found out that he has diabetes. I just went with him today for an EKG. I don't think he is taking it as seriously as my mom, brother and I am, but you are right- it is extremely important for our parents to get checked out now that they is older.
I remember when I first told you about how my grampa passed away and you said so many things that really helped me out and helped me come to terms with everything. So if there is anything that I can do for you, you name it. Take care of yourself, little Eric, and the rest of the family (and Scooter ;-) ), and I will see you/talk to you soon.
Love *****"
~~Still a very close friend of mine whose friendship I treasure... she's a really great person and I love her very much
--"I know that these past few months have been quite a journey for you, with the many obstacles that you had to face, and many times not knowing how to overcome those challenges. I just wanted to let you know that you're always in my thoughts, and I know that things, as they all do, get better.
Trust me.
They say "time heals all wounds," but unfortunately sometimes in life we have to watch the time as each grain of sand slowly passes to the other side. You've come this far-and I know that it wasn't easy-but don't you ever give up. Hang in there, and, if there's ever anything on your mind, you know that you have friends like me to be there, for you. Good times and
bad, for good or worse, that's why we're here. That's why you guys were there for me when I needed you the most.
I had just spoken to ***** over the phone and she told me some unfortunate news regarding your father, and how he has been administered hospice care. I don't mean to be "prying" as it may seem like such, but as it is, I just can't sit here and not voice my concerns and wishes for you and your family's well-being.
Again, you and your family are in my thoughts, and please keep me updated on your father's condition.
Always,
-*****
PS - I owe you a Dr. Pepper :)"
~~Truly a gem of a guy... you just do not find friends like him just anywhere. I'm so happy
I can still call him a very close friend of mine after so many years... love him, too! :o)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am blessed.
I have an exceptional family, even if it is a little broken still, we've been able to mend the break for the most part since my dad left, and I think we've made some great progress and being a family--dad-less or not.
I am even lucky enough to have exceptional friends on top of my pretty-darn-good-no-matter-how-much-I-complain family... On top of the wonderful emails listed above (that's just some of them), I received so many more hugs, comforting and inspirirational words, and shoulders to cry on... and I still do, in those very few instances when I actually let people know I'm slipping back into the blackness. I'm so very thankful for the very very wonderful group of friends I have. So very thankful.
Most of the time... I say nothing, but everything reminds me. There's a reason I cry so hard in movies where people's fayhers die, or are sick... those kind of scenes serve as a giant movie-screen size reminder of all that blackness from before. The Notebook was EXTREMELY painful to watch, that was just a little while after it all happened. And even just recently, watching CLICK! with some good friends of mine... I was sobbing at the end with all the badness going on on the screen. It's funny to see me all in a puddle of myself crying, I'm sure, because it looks so melodramatic, but if you only knew what watching those kind of scenes do to my insides, you'd understand.
Although, I'd still kinda' hope you'd laugh--because it's still funny... I dunno. Laughing's a good thing, it's good for you. That's why I try to do it so often. :o)
P.S. - I think I might post a couple of other things in a bit... we'll see. Hrm...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this to friends via email April 1, 2004:
"Hello to all my friends...
Things in my life are a might worse than just a few days ago, and light-years from where things were just a year ago. We brought my dad home from the hospital on Saturday, March 27 to begin hospice care--where you basically keep a dying person (someone with 6 months or less to live) comfortable and without pain until their time comes. It seemed like we might have a little while left with him, but just yesterday, the 31st, we had a visit from the hospice care nurse and social worker, who told us my dad has from just a few days to a week left, and then he'll be gone--forever.
I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling just yet, but it's not good, and it's not going to get better for awhile. I really wish he could go with a little more dignity, instead of just wasting away in bed at home, waiting for the cancer to suck the last breath from his body. It's been rather traumatic watching the strongest and most sincere person in my life melt away into a thin shadow of skin and bones, unaware of who comes and goes beside him.
There were dreams I didn’t know I had until I realized he wouldn’t be there to experience them with me. I didn’t know how much I wanted him to be at my graduation, until I realized he’d be long buried by the time my name would be called. I didn’t know how much I wanted him to give me away at my wedding, until I realized he would only be there in spirit, last knowing me only as his little girl. I didn’t know I wanted him to hold and kiss my future children, until I realized my kids will never know their grampa. My future husband will never have a father-son chat with my dad to “take care of his little girl.” My kids won’t get to hear stories about how my dad used to go hunting, what things were like for him growing up, or how he met my mom and traveled the world.
He’ll never call me “kiddo”, or “sport”, or “punkin”, ever again. We’ll never take another vacation just to ride a steam train ever again. He’ll never go off-roading with the Dirt Devils, or play poker with his buddies ever again. No more trips to Moab, no more trips to Mesquite, no more weekend matinees ever again.
My mom won’t get to enjoy her retirement with the only man she’s ever loved. She met him at 16 years old while working on his army base, and married him soon after. I can’t even imagine what she feels, especially after being married to him for over 30 years… All I can do is hold her when she cries.
Take care that your parents are frequently examined medically and get checked more frequently as they age. My father was diagnosed with cancer last fall, around October, and now, in April, he will likely be gone just a couple months before his 62nd birthday on June 21st. We found the cancer at an advanced stage. He had lung cancer, yet he never smoked. It had metastasized (spread) to his spine and brain by time he was diagnosed. The back pain he experienced for months before his diagnosis was a symptom of the cancer in his spine. Pain is among some of the last symptoms many cancer victims experience, and like my father is right now, many find themselves dying when the cancer spread to vital areas or organs.
Take care of yourselves and your families now and in the coming years, and tell them you love them often, everyday even. I love all of you, and in the next few weeks and months of my life, I may need you more than ever. Thank you all for being there for me and letting me know you care. It really means a lot to know I have friends who really care about me. Thank you all very much…
Take care,
Laura Lesher"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the very least, though... I got some really great responses from some very good friends, I'm not going to include names in case people don't appreciate their emails to me being broadcasted:
--"Man, im sooooo sorry to hear your situation. i dont know what i'd do if i was in your situation. im so proud of u for going thru all of this, for sharing all this with us, allowing us to help you. WHENEVER u need anyone to talk to, to hang out with, just give me a call. i wish you the best (or breast? lol, sorry just trying to lighten the mood). laura, honestly, whenever u feel the need to go out and hang out with friends, sing karaoke and stuff or whatever, just gimme a call, ***** and i'll arrange something. i'll call the ***** up, since i'm the *****, they'll listen to me and we'll go watch a movie, go to hooters, go to a strip club, or go watch ***** work on the corner---- ANYTHING! it sucks being alone when u need people to be around you, and i'm there for u. sometimes, it helps just being around people just to help easy the pain for a couple of hours, ya know? as for your dad, tell him i wish him the best. im pretty sure he doesnt know me, but i know him. i've personally never met him, but i remember what a great guy he was... lending his tools so we can use on photasia. he has to be a great guy, to raise such a wonderful (although kinda dirrrrty.. hehe) like you. im 1000% sure he's proud to be your dad. just know that your dad is going to a better place, a place that will end all of his pain and suffering. losing your dad is tough and we, your csuf family, will be here to help u through all of this. call me ANYTIME!!!!"
~~From a close friend, moreso now than even then, actually... he knows me pretty well, I'd have to say. Sympathy with a little personal humor never hurts. Laughing, even in sadness, is quite therapeutic... it's what kept me from going completely numb then
--"I am so sorry to hear about how hard everything has been lately. Stay strong. I know that you and your family have suffered some difficult months. It's not quite the same but I went through this with my grampa and his lung cancer too. It was very hard for me because I have always known my grampa as a strong-willed, independent person who had very simple, subtle ways to show he cared, and I know that you see your dad in the same way. Also my dad is 66 now and he has been having to get a lot of checkups lately with his heart, and just recently found out that he has diabetes. I just went with him today for an EKG. I don't think he is taking it as seriously as my mom, brother and I am, but you are right- it is extremely important for our parents to get checked out now that they is older.
I remember when I first told you about how my grampa passed away and you said so many things that really helped me out and helped me come to terms with everything. So if there is anything that I can do for you, you name it. Take care of yourself, little Eric, and the rest of the family (and Scooter ;-) ), and I will see you/talk to you soon.
Love *****"
~~Still a very close friend of mine whose friendship I treasure... she's a really great person and I love her very much
--"I know that these past few months have been quite a journey for you, with the many obstacles that you had to face, and many times not knowing how to overcome those challenges. I just wanted to let you know that you're always in my thoughts, and I know that things, as they all do, get better.
Trust me.
They say "time heals all wounds," but unfortunately sometimes in life we have to watch the time as each grain of sand slowly passes to the other side. You've come this far-and I know that it wasn't easy-but don't you ever give up. Hang in there, and, if there's ever anything on your mind, you know that you have friends like me to be there, for you. Good times and
bad, for good or worse, that's why we're here. That's why you guys were there for me when I needed you the most.
I had just spoken to ***** over the phone and she told me some unfortunate news regarding your father, and how he has been administered hospice care. I don't mean to be "prying" as it may seem like such, but as it is, I just can't sit here and not voice my concerns and wishes for you and your family's well-being.
Again, you and your family are in my thoughts, and please keep me updated on your father's condition.
Always,
-*****
PS - I owe you a Dr. Pepper :)"
~~Truly a gem of a guy... you just do not find friends like him just anywhere. I'm so happy
I can still call him a very close friend of mine after so many years... love him, too! :o)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am blessed.
I have an exceptional family, even if it is a little broken still, we've been able to mend the break for the most part since my dad left, and I think we've made some great progress and being a family--dad-less or not.
I am even lucky enough to have exceptional friends on top of my pretty-darn-good-no-matter-how-much-I-complain family... On top of the wonderful emails listed above (that's just some of them), I received so many more hugs, comforting and inspirirational words, and shoulders to cry on... and I still do, in those very few instances when I actually let people know I'm slipping back into the blackness. I'm so very thankful for the very very wonderful group of friends I have. So very thankful.
Most of the time... I say nothing, but everything reminds me. There's a reason I cry so hard in movies where people's fayhers die, or are sick... those kind of scenes serve as a giant movie-screen size reminder of all that blackness from before. The Notebook was EXTREMELY painful to watch, that was just a little while after it all happened. And even just recently, watching CLICK! with some good friends of mine... I was sobbing at the end with all the badness going on on the screen. It's funny to see me all in a puddle of myself crying, I'm sure, because it looks so melodramatic, but if you only knew what watching those kind of scenes do to my insides, you'd understand.
Although, I'd still kinda' hope you'd laugh--because it's still funny... I dunno. Laughing's a good thing, it's good for you. That's why I try to do it so often. :o)
P.S. - I think I might post a couple of other things in a bit... we'll see. Hrm...