Saturday, December 17, 2005 (Tearful goodbye)

Tearful goodbye

The last two months have been hell. I won't sugar coat it, I can't. I've literally been watching my father die. I remember as a child thinking someday I'd have to go through this. And I also remember starting to cry when I thought about it, so I'd quickly banish the thought. Well, here it is. That horrible thing I knew was coming, but also knew I wasn't ready for. And I have this horrible image left of how he was before he passed. I don't want that. I wouldn't have wanted to not be there, but to witness that, it was so terrible. He was in a coma, slipped into it last night, so he wasn't feeling any pain. The rest of us were all feeling more than enough. It was high time that he finally was pain-free. But I want to remember who he was, before he got sick, before his hair fell out from the chemo, before he gave up. And that's who I will remember. I'll remember the man who, at 72 years old, would come to my house and load up my broken lawn mower, take it back to his house, fix it, and then return it (and would remind me that it would run better if I actually put gas in it). I'll remember the father who was there whenever my car broke down. The daddy who told stories about me that embarrassed me, but didn't really embarrass me. He called me Squeek, or Squeeker, when I was a baby, and it stuck. I'm 35 and I still get called Squeek. I'm gonna remember his sense of humor. Just last week he was trying to figure out a way to rig up a small clear plastic hose, similar to his catheter hose, and make it squirt water, so he could fool a friend into thinking the catheter was leaking and he was getting peed on. Even in his doped up stupor he was a prankster. He could barely describe what he wanted to do, but when I figured out what he was saying and told him it was gross he got a big smile on his face. Today, at my parents house, my ex-husband and one of my ex-boyfriends were there, not for me, but for my dad. They loved him, because of the wonderful person he was.

It's been a long day. It's been hard. I knew it was coming, but I was hoping it would be after Christmas. I don't know why. I supposed it's better this way, because he's no longer in pain. My mom can sleep, without having to listen for him, in case he needs something. The hospice people are coming to remove all the stuff, the hospital bed and the wheelchair that was never used. The waiting is over, which sounds cold and heartless, but it's not meant to. Life has been on hold. We have all been spending as much free time with him as we can, knowing that time is short. It's time to mourn, and then I'll be able to flip the switch back to 'on'. I've not been me for some time now. Sort of a shadow of me. I drift in and out of 'me-ness', but that's about it. So, I'll evolve into a different form of me, and move forward. I don't have my daddy anymore, and it's so surreal. It just doesn't seem possible. I'm sorta in denial, or something similar, I suppose. It's not Mom and Dad anymore. It's Mom now. And I have to be strong for her.