Category Archives: Death

And today there was a little sun.

Dad, Death, , , , , , ,

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I spoke with a bereavement (better known as grief) counselor today.  Her name was Jaquelyn, and she was very kind.  When I first heard her voice I thought I was talking to someone in their early 20’s — and she could have been for all I know.  That I guess doesn’t matter.

Her words were wise beyond how young she sounded and for the first time in the past three weeks I felt a little lighter, my chest wasn’t as heavy, and I didn’t feel like every time I thought about my father and opened my mouth at the same time that I would sob.

We talked about a lot of things that led of to my father’s death.  Things that happened to me and how that has affected me since June of 2015.  As we talked about them Jaquelyn brought to my attention that these were all classified as losses of some sort – some small, some large, but they were losses.

We then talked about the last conversation I had with my dad.  He wasn’t happy where he was.  He said that the place was killing him when the reality was he was dying right before our eyes.  Dementia had begun and he wasn’t our dad anymore.  That was such a hard pill to swallow. I had asked my father what I could do to help him as he was so unhappy and he simply said “Please love me.”  and my eyes got wet and brimmed with tears and I said “Oh Dad, of course I love you, we all love you.” He then looked at me with his blue blue eyes and said “Please really love me”.  I once again said, “Dad we just love you so much.”

He then paused and tilted his head to one side like he always did when he didn’t believe what I was telling him and he said “Am I your dad?”  That took me aback, and I said “Of course you are my Dad, you’ve been my dad for 52 years!” and then he just looked at me and gave me a half smile.  It was time to go and so I kissed him and hugged him and never saw him again.

I wasn’t there when he died.  But I am told he had a gentle and peaceful passing.  “Not a wrinkle in his face” I had heard several times. I didn’t have the opportunity of seeing him right after he died and I will regret that to my own dying day, I wish I had seen him.

I had no closure.

The next morning around the same time that he had died that morning before I woke up with a start.  Someone was standing by the side of my bed.  I thought at first it was my mom, as I had said to her if she needed me to come get me I didn’t care what time.

But no, it was my Dad.  He was just standing there. No flowing robes, no angels, no music, nothing ethereal at all – it was just him in a pair of Khaki shorts and one of his normal button of summer shirts.  The only thing I noticed was he looked very healthy, and his arms were smooth.  There were no bruises, his skin wasn’t mottled.  There were no scabs, scars, no marring.  Just smooth and healthy.  I said to him in disbelief “Dad! What is going on?  Why are you here?”  And he just said:

“I’m fine, I’m really fine.”

I had a tough time catching my breath, but I managed, “How did you get here?  What are you doing here?  Dad!?”  and he once again just said very serenely “I’m fine, I am really fine.”  I jumped up to hug him, and to kiss him, and to just be near him and as I went to hug him I hugged the air, he was gone in an instant.

I made three giant steps to where my mom was sleeping and said very excitedly “Oh God, Mom, did Dad come see you, he was just here, I saw him.”  And then I recounted my experience and marveling over his arms and face that were so smooth.  We both were really leaning to having seen him – I truly felt his presence.

Anyhow, I am relaying this to this bereavement counselor and she says to me, “It sounds like your father had a very peaceful passing, and maybe he came to see you to tell you that he was fine, and he knew you loved him after all.”

I thought about this for a moment and then felt my chest relax, my neck relax, the bile in the back of my throat subside, my breathing relax, my back relax.  And I didn’t feel like sobbing.

The idea that my father died thinking he wasn’t loved was just too much for my mind, body, and spirit to handle and hearing her say that he probably knew was truly what I needed to hear.  And I am going to cleave to that every time I feel horrible, I am going to remember her words.

So for today I felt a little bit of sun peak through that veil of mourning, depression, and grief.

It’s been three weeks, actually 22 days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When your dad dies and things are complicated

Dad, Death, ,

iloveyoudadanditscomplicated

It’s no secret that my father was a complex and complicated man. The guy struggled throughout his entire life thinking he wasn’t accepted or loved when the reality was he was incredibly loved — if he would allow it.

That’s the thing – he didn’t allow many to love him on their terms.  And the reason I know that is I’m just like him in that respect and it’s been a struggle of mine for the past 52 years. I want people to love me on my terms, but that’s not the way the world works.  People love, and often they love differently than yourself.

People love how they know how to love.  Some people are of few words and show their love through their deeds or in small ways that aren’t obvious.  Other people express their love through their words and what they say or what they do – and it’s obvious, while there are still others who are loud and proud and demonstrate their love for the world and those around them very loudly — and then there are those who say nary a word but love deeply because it’s just how they are.

My dad in his later years would say “I love you” and I loved hearing that from my old man.  But he never said he was proud of me and goddammit I sure tried to gain his acceptance and approval my entire life.

So when he died for me it was complicated.  He didn’t die angry with me and that was a huge relief because I was on his shit list a lot — I was the first born, the most like him, very vocal and pushed back a lot.  Just ask my mom – my middle name was  “I was a handful”.  I knew when he died he loved me, fiercely.  I was his #1 kid, and with that comes a deep impact that no other kids coming after we first borns will ever experience.

We are the first for our parents to love, be angry at, make mistakes with, watch leave the nest, and fuck up.  It just goes with the territory.

My worry and something that still haunts me is if he knew I loved him. And Jesus Christ I did love that guy to the moon and back.  I just hope wherever he is up there somewhere that he can feel the love I have for him, his spirit and his memory.

I will never forget him or that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been 14 days and 2 weeks.

Death, , ,

The past 14 days have been a blur of sorts. Everyone has returned to work, and their lives. The obituary is done. Dad has been cremated. Mom is busy cleaning and putting the house back together. I still continue to dream.

Last nights dream was I was the only one in the house who had a clue that dad was dead. Everyone was flitting about as if he wasn’t. I was standing there trying to yell in my dream hey dad what are you doing here you’re dead. And I was panicked because nobody was acknowledging  what I was saying.

I don’t want to dream about him anymore for a while. It’s way too upsetting. I’ve been having panic attacks, not sleeping well, i’m feeling anxiety, and angst. Cripes, i’m feeling anxious just writing about this.

I see him everywhere.

Death, ,

I was at the doctors office today which is located in our local hospital – and I could’ve sworn I saw my father three different times walking off the elevator.

It still doesn’t seem real. I know it’s real. I have forgotten what he sounds like and that is just heart wrenching.

When I look at the date I can’t believe it’s been 12 days since he died. I made a promise that I would write in this journal every day and I haven’t kept his promise and I feel horrible. But some days I just can’t make it type for my brain think of the words because all I do is cry.