only 2 more days.
Before I start on this yearly purging of feelings let me make myself clear. I’m not doing this for attention; I’m doing this to get crap out of my system so that I can focus on the weekend ahead. You want to whine about my outlook on life being poor? Not my fault that you missed the point.
It’s been five years. Five years that I honestly didn’t think I’d make it through, and even now it feels like it happened not too long ago, sometimes a day, sometimes a week.
The 29th of January of 2007, was the end of one journey and the beginning of another.
I was there holding his hand when my father died.
He always called his ‘battle’ with cancer a journey, because he felt that it was God’s way of showing him what was most important in life. It was a journey for all of my siblings, but I felt that I bore the brunt of the reality. I spent most of my free time at home those days. I admit I spent a good bit of time on the computer or doing other things, but I was there when he needed water or someone to talk to. And maybe I’ve glorified my role some… but I felt that it was the most important job I have ever been given. I felt bad on the days that I knew he wasn’t feeling well but he still managed to fix me an omelet. And I still regret times like that, or times I was so absorbed in my world to pay him all the attention I should have.
But, I really wouldn’t have changed much of anything. I have great memories with him that I wouldn’t change. And some not so happy ones that still stick with me.
He taught me so much in those almost 5 years. He told me how to take a bad situation and make light of it. He taught me the value of being honest and not judging others too harshly. He taught me that one of the greatest joys you could have in life is waking up and being able to get out of bed. He taught me random strings of knowledge and we’d often talk about our opinions. Life was a joy, and you should always share this joy with others. You can always find some way to help, no matter what the circumstances. Everyone can talk, not many can listen.
I have a feeling that him and Grandpa Moser were about the same at the end. I think grandpa had a bit more kick to him.
It was hard watching him slowly decline over the years, but I’m glad he stuck around. Though things steadily got worse, he never faltered. Though you could see the pain in his eyes, he did all he can to reach his ‘goals on his checklist’. And you would feel the disappointment in his voice when he couldn’t make it to something important for you.
And it’s funny that I didn’t seem to feel that much of the angst that my siblings did. And… I feel bad for not being to understand initially. Maybe I was still numb from my other grandparents passing that year, or I was just fine with it, because it’s not like there was nothing I could do about it. This was also a lesson I learned, make do with what you can. Some people always have less. People always need the love and kindness of another. He showed total understanding, though a bit of sadness when I told him I was no longer a Christian. I still attended church for him.
The last few weeks at the hospice really sunk it in for me. I’d always worry that something would happen when I was home alone or that I would get a call that either he had been taken to a hospital or something had happened when he was in the hospital. But the hospice, as I had learned from my grandma on my mom’s side, is not a place you can just leave from. It’s a place to provide comfort for the dying and the family.
Dad had a saying, ‘I have my ticket home, all I need to do is cash it in’, and in the hospice things were pretty good for a while. But after his siblings and some other close family filed through, he slowly started to go. They put in a tube to pump out what food he didn’t digest, so that he could still eat. He pulled it out a few days later, they tried putting it in again and he immediately pulled it out. He spent most of his time dozing. One of the last days we had a small gathering with my mom and siblings. I knew he was listening. We were trying to be positive, sharing stories and listening to some Leonard Skynard on my brother’s phone. Dad talked a bit to us then, he told me that the Lord would always welcome me back.
I still hear these words when I’m in a church today.
The weather this week was bitter, cold, and dry. The sun shining did little when the wind blew so strongly.
One of the sweet old ladies told us midday one evening that things were shutting down, dad was spending as much time surrounded by his family as he could, but he was cashing in his ticket home. We hurried through an ice storm to get the dogs to a place to be boarded. I came back with my uncle and the old lady said that it would be any time.
I stuck to his side and held his hand, and I saw and felt the life leave him, I told him that I loved him. And for the first time the full weight sunk in and didn’t leave.
After the undertaker took him, we drove home and spent the night laughing and crying. As we were heading to bed, a good friend of mine told me to let him call me on Skype. I did.
He sung ‘Mad World’ by Gary Jules, and while I cried, I fell in love with this kind person.
What time I wasn’t numb I was angry and sad that I had been left with a mother I had become so distant from. I understood that she knew dad longer than all of us, but at the same time I felt ignored because I was one of the people that was spending the most time with him. Every time she would mutter the words ‘What would your father think’ I only hated and loathed her more.
I almost didn’t make it through the first year.
I struggled to finish high school, was diagnosed with depression (now possibly chronic), and attempted to attend online college and work.
It’s been five years… I can’t forget my father and one of my fears, no matter how irrational, is that I will. But, I have the love of the boy that sung to me that night, which doesn’t make it all better, but it certainly has helped me make it this far.
Because of my father’s love, and because of my love for this life I gained from knowing Casey, I’ve started to go to a more traditional community college.
I haven’t seen Casey in over a year and a half, but he stays by me as I stay by him.
Thanks for everything, Dad. I still miss you dearly and know that you’re out there someplace watching over me.