Where do we go when we die?
I feel so lost and deflated. I can't believe that two and half weeks ago, I lost my hero, my mentor, my best friend, I dare say, one of my soul mates. Where is all of that passion? Where is all of that joy? Where did he go? Dad can't just be gone like that...can he?
*poof*
Sad isn't even the word for it. Sometimes I wonder if there is even a point to living. On top of missing my father, I can't get the images of his suffering out of my head, or all of the things I wish I could have said, or questions of whether he heard the things I did say. And I'm worried about mom too. This is the worst pain I've ever felt.
As a small child, I used to lie awake at night and cry because I feared death. Not my own so much, but of those I loved the most. I used to worry about my grandparents dying, and my parents, I had a recurring dream of my twin brother being struck by a car. I can still recount that dream as vividly today as I could after waking in a terrible fright all those years ago. Every once in a while I am still haunted by that dream, though it has been years.
I think I even said to mom just a few months ago that I couldn't imagine losing my parents. I don't remember how the subject came up, but I can recall a small twitch of her very expressive mouth and a sad flicker in her eyes. Mom's never been openly expressive, but she's also never been able to hide when she's, (to use a term from the movie "Garden State"), "in it."
It kills me to know that mom knew dad was sick. For two years she knew. And he made her hide it from their children to protect us. I suppose now that it makes little difference. I don't think it would have changed the outcome. Dad would not have wanted us watching him like hawks and incessantly quizzing him about his health. He would not have visited the doctors more often or changed the way he did things. That just wasn't dad's way. Because he was stubborn, he is now gone. I can't blame him. He was true to himself, until that last minute. I have always admired his strength and conviction and strong opinions. Dad surely lived life on his terms and nobody else's. We just never guessed it would lead to his demise.
Placing blame or trying to figure out what went wrong, and when, and how, and what could have fixed it, is truly pointless. We can't turn back time or reincarnate dad, though if I could, I would in a heart beat.
The image of dad twisting the sheets and literally writhing in pain, is seared into my memory. His once bright and inquisitive eyes, dulled by suffering and medicine, barely able to stay open and focus... His beautiful strong leg a dead weight because of a pinched nerve, his skin pale and sallow, sweat beaded on his brow and dripping from his nose...the sore cracked lips coated in ointment that did little relieve the pain...the awful rose red inside his raw mouth, hinting at the atrocity in his throat...that hideous affliction which did not allow him to breathe without terrible pain much less swallow a little water or food. His muscles very quickly slackening and his strength draining to the point he could no longer lift himself...The terrible indignity of a bed pan...the frustrated jerks of his hands trying to tell us his needs because his voice had failed him...
It is not fair. It is so, so, so unfair. I can't believe he had to go through the awful gut-wrenching pain he did. I can't believe we had to watch it and there was nothing any of us could do. We didn't even know if he could hear us or understand what we were saying. We surely couldn't understand what he needed. He was hurting so terribly and he couldn't express what he needed. I ache so badly when I think of my dad. I don't want to ache. I want to feel joy for ever having known him, for carrying some of his DNA, for being the luckiest daughter in the whole world. I feel so robbed. I was meant to have another good 30 or even 40 years with him. Why? Why God? Why did you do this? Why did you take him? Why was it so terrible? Why did he have to suffer as nobody should ever have to suffer?
Sitting next to him, watching him stiffen against the onslaught of pain, watching him will himself to live another day, all I could do was beg him in my head to go. Please dad, we love you, for any wrongs we forgive you, please go...just go, be free of this pain. We don't want you to hurt anymore. Please. Dad, just go and know that you are loved as much as anyone has ever been loved. No daughter should ever have to will her dad to die.
I miss my dad so much.
*poof*
Sad isn't even the word for it. Sometimes I wonder if there is even a point to living. On top of missing my father, I can't get the images of his suffering out of my head, or all of the things I wish I could have said, or questions of whether he heard the things I did say. And I'm worried about mom too. This is the worst pain I've ever felt.
As a small child, I used to lie awake at night and cry because I feared death. Not my own so much, but of those I loved the most. I used to worry about my grandparents dying, and my parents, I had a recurring dream of my twin brother being struck by a car. I can still recount that dream as vividly today as I could after waking in a terrible fright all those years ago. Every once in a while I am still haunted by that dream, though it has been years.
I think I even said to mom just a few months ago that I couldn't imagine losing my parents. I don't remember how the subject came up, but I can recall a small twitch of her very expressive mouth and a sad flicker in her eyes. Mom's never been openly expressive, but she's also never been able to hide when she's, (to use a term from the movie "Garden State"), "in it."
It kills me to know that mom knew dad was sick. For two years she knew. And he made her hide it from their children to protect us. I suppose now that it makes little difference. I don't think it would have changed the outcome. Dad would not have wanted us watching him like hawks and incessantly quizzing him about his health. He would not have visited the doctors more often or changed the way he did things. That just wasn't dad's way. Because he was stubborn, he is now gone. I can't blame him. He was true to himself, until that last minute. I have always admired his strength and conviction and strong opinions. Dad surely lived life on his terms and nobody else's. We just never guessed it would lead to his demise.
Placing blame or trying to figure out what went wrong, and when, and how, and what could have fixed it, is truly pointless. We can't turn back time or reincarnate dad, though if I could, I would in a heart beat.
The image of dad twisting the sheets and literally writhing in pain, is seared into my memory. His once bright and inquisitive eyes, dulled by suffering and medicine, barely able to stay open and focus... His beautiful strong leg a dead weight because of a pinched nerve, his skin pale and sallow, sweat beaded on his brow and dripping from his nose...the sore cracked lips coated in ointment that did little relieve the pain...the awful rose red inside his raw mouth, hinting at the atrocity in his throat...that hideous affliction which did not allow him to breathe without terrible pain much less swallow a little water or food. His muscles very quickly slackening and his strength draining to the point he could no longer lift himself...The terrible indignity of a bed pan...the frustrated jerks of his hands trying to tell us his needs because his voice had failed him...
It is not fair. It is so, so, so unfair. I can't believe he had to go through the awful gut-wrenching pain he did. I can't believe we had to watch it and there was nothing any of us could do. We didn't even know if he could hear us or understand what we were saying. We surely couldn't understand what he needed. He was hurting so terribly and he couldn't express what he needed. I ache so badly when I think of my dad. I don't want to ache. I want to feel joy for ever having known him, for carrying some of his DNA, for being the luckiest daughter in the whole world. I feel so robbed. I was meant to have another good 30 or even 40 years with him. Why? Why God? Why did you do this? Why did you take him? Why was it so terrible? Why did he have to suffer as nobody should ever have to suffer?
Sitting next to him, watching him stiffen against the onslaught of pain, watching him will himself to live another day, all I could do was beg him in my head to go. Please dad, we love you, for any wrongs we forgive you, please go...just go, be free of this pain. We don't want you to hurt anymore. Please. Dad, just go and know that you are loved as much as anyone has ever been loved. No daughter should ever have to will her dad to die.
I miss my dad so much.