I'm. Sorry. For. Your. Loss

The worst 5 word combination I've ever heard.  I've used it before myself when offering condolences to others on the loss of a loved one, but never realized just how empty and pointless they are until this year.

I've debated for a long time whether or not to write about this.  On one hand, it's something I wish had never happened and wish would disappear all together. Writing about it will immortalize the story.  On the other hand, the purpose of my blog is to journal my feelings about the happenings of my life so that in the future I can look back and say "Oh yeah, I remember that!".  I've been so behind on my regular blogs because I find it difficult to write about anything else with this thing lurking around.  And so I have decided to go ahead and piece together the details of that time, my feelings and emotions, and anything else I can remember so that I can always look back and remember that it was and is just as horrible as I think it was.

In the last few years, I've spoken a lot of my Dad's illness and impending death.  On January 26, 2013, it happened.  He died.  My Dad died.  It's still surreal to say or even think.

While I was pregnant with Sophia, he started to get sick a lot.  There was just something off about his breathing.  During that time he was hospitalized with Pneumonia.  Shortly after I had her, he called to give me the news.  He said that he had a disease called Pulmonary Fibrosis which was incurable except to do a double lung transplant.  It took me  a long time to really come to terms with what this meant.  During that initial conversation, I was quiet and seemed to be accepting of what he was telling me.  In reality, it takes me a while to process news like that.  The same thing happened when I was told that my grandma had cancer.  Everyone thought I was unaffected but really, I just needed time to process.  After getting the details of the disease, I started my research as we all do... online.  3-5 years life expectancy after diagnosis.  3-5 years? How could that be?  There had to be something wrong.  He had to be an exception.

I think it's important to share just how close he and I were.  I believe with all of my heart and soul that he and I were as close as two human beings can possibly be.  This includes husbands and wives, parents and children, and any other combination you can think of.  I seriously worshiped this man and I knew everyday of my entire life that he worshipped me as well.  He and I thought alike, felt alike, laughed alike, and were hurt alike.  Since his passing, something has become very clear to me.  My Dad is my soul mate.

During the next 3 years, everything in my life changed.  Not only had I just become a mother, but I also was chained to constant worry and anxiety over my Dad.  There were countless times that we all thought "this is it".  Either he was hospitalized with Pneumonia or some new ailment had hit him.  And each time, we would get though it.  During those times, and even when things were going along normally, I would allow myself to consider the fact that he was going to die.  This thought tore me apart.  I felt like my body was turning inside out at the thought of it.  It couldn't happen.  It just couldn't happen.  I developed pretty serious anxiety issues.  I had crazy outbursts of screaming and throwing things.  The tiniest thing would totally set me off.  I would cry myself to sleep, cry in the shower, cry while I was driving, cry cry cry.  I became completely attached to my cell phone.  If it rang, I ran to it as quickly as possible in case it was him.  I NEVER ignored his calls or text, even if I was in the shower or eating dinner or whatever.  There was also the issue of Sophia.  I grew up not remembering my Grandfather (my Dad's dad).  Everyone always said how I was the love of his life, yet I had no memory of him.  It just didn't make sense to me that Sophia wouldn't get a chance to know the most important person in my life.  He felt the same way.  We made sure, as evidenced by our many trips to NC and daily Skype sessions, that she would know him and remember him.  Of course there is no way to know if she really will remember, but she does ask about him still, knows him in pictures, and occasionally recalls things that they did together or he would say to her.  Time will tell.

How it happened.

He had been in in-home hospice care for a while.  His breathing had become so terrible.  He couldn't do anything any more.  He was also very out of sorts and confused all the time.  A week or so before, the decision was made that his condition was worsening and he should take a trip to the hospice center for treatment. Perhaps there was an infection or something that could be cleared up.  Unfortunately, this was the same hospice center that my grandma was in when she died.  My dad said over and over that he did not want to die there.  He was terrified of going there.  My aunt and I shared some guilt over agreeing to let them take him knowing how scared he was.  None the less, he went.  Of course he was always in my prayers at night but for some reason, my prayers changed that week.  I prayed all that week for God to bring him peace.  I knew how scared and miserable he was and I just wanted him to have some peace.
For the first few days, he actually did seem to be improving and feeling better.  I still spoke to him multiple times a day just as I always did.  Friday night, January 25th, I spoke to him for what would be the last time.  He had been trying to get his computer hooked up so that he could Skype with Soph while he was there.  It had been a couple of weeks and she was asking about it.  I still don't know if there was actually an issue with the laptop or if he was just so disoriented that he couldn't get it together.  That night we spoke of trying to get a nurse to help him with it in the morning.  He was encouraged and told me to call him right when we got up the next morning.

During this time, there were 4 things that happened that I will never forget.

1)  Saturday morning, my aunt called me at around 7am.  She said that he had woken up very disoriented. He didn't recognize her and was screaming at her that she was trying to kill her.  The doctors had to sedate him so that he didn't hurt himself or someone else.  He fell asleep peacefully.  My aunt asked the nurses what was happening and they said he was dying.  As I heard her say these words, all I could think was that they were wrong, just like they always were.  This was just another time that we would all think "this is it".  I told Ken what she said and he started to cry a little.  We went about our morning routing as normal, minus the fact that we would typically be on Skype.  We ate our breakfast and Ken got up from the table to clean up.  As I sat there, looking at the spot on the table where the computer usually sat on Saturday mornings, it hit me.  He was asleep and would possibly not wake up.  I had possibly spoken to my dad for the last time.  I felt like all the blood rushed from my face and a ran to the kitchen to Ken.  I completely broke down sobbing and heaving.  He had to hold me up and was sobbing right along with me.  I screamed that it wasn't fair and why was this happening and no, it can't be.  This was the unimaginable moment that I had feared for 3 years.

2)  My Uncle Rudy had planned to go to NC to visit him that day anyway.  When he got there, he spoke to the medical staff to assess what was going on.  He called me to let me know what he had learned.  To distract me a little, Ken suggested that we begin decorating for Sophia's birthday party.  We were in the middle of it when my uncle called.  He said that they told him that it would be a miracle if my dad woke up at this point.  I asked him if he could put the phone to his hear so that I could try to talk to him.  We agreed that when I was done, I would hang up then call back to let them know I was done.  He put the phone to his ear, and once again I lost it.  I told him over and over how much I love him.  I told him I wasn't ready to let him go.  I begged him and pleaded with God to let him wake up just for a minute so that he could tell me goodbye.  I stood in Sophia's room looking into her mirror as I sobbed and yelled and begged.  I was unrecognizable.  Finally when I couldn't take any more, I hung up the phone and collapsed.

3)  After my "conversation" with him, I felt so guilty.  I should have been telling him that I would be ok.  He was not afraid of dying.  He was only afraid of what his death would do to me.  I should have told him that it was time to go and not to worry about me.  Later that evening, we decided to go out to dinner.  Before we left, I called my uncle again to see if I could let Sophia tell him goodnight.  He put the phone to his ear and she told him "Goodnight Grandpa.  I love you!"  Then I took the phone and told him what I should have said in the first place.  That I loved him, that I would be ok, that I knew just how much he loved me, and that I would never let Sophia forget him.  We went to dinner and I kept my phone in my hand the entire time.  At about 8:00 it rang.  I ran out of the restaurant to answer it.  "He passed away."  My uncle was sobbing.  I just stood there saying "Oh my god. Oh my god."  Once again, I needed time to process.  Everything was spinning and everything was quiet.  I went back inside to tell Ken. He had already paid the bill and was ready to go.  That night I didn't cry any more. I was stunned.  Even though I had been preparing myself for this for three years, I was completely shocked.

4)  I went to North Carolina on Tuesday for the service on Wednesday.  As we went into the church, the same church were he was baptized the previous summer, I couldn't believe what I was there for.  How could I possibly be at my dad's funeral. I didn't want anyone to look at me or talk to me except my aunt and uncles.  The Pastor had got to know my dad very well over the time he was sick and was able to share some very nice personal stories about him.  The whole time, my body was once again turning inside out and I literally wanted to stand up and run out of there as quickly as possible.  My Uncle Rudy had written a eulogy to deliver at the service.  I was and still am so grateful to him for having the courage to deliver it.  It was amazing.   It was everything I could have wanted to be said.  Most importantly to me, it confirmed that everyone else knew just how special our relationship was.  He started by saying that he and my dad had spoken of death and heaven a number of times.  They agreed that for my dad, heaven would be a sports bar.  At the bar he would a special TV for each of the people in his life that he loved and wanted to watch over.  He went one by one through all the different parts of the family but left out my aunt and myself.  He spoke of the generous, caring, loving, and humorous person that my dad was and how he was so thankful that his own family got to know him and experience him in their own lives.  Next, he talked about my aunt.  He said there is a special place in heaven waiting for her after everything she did for both my grandma and my dad in their final time on earth.  He expressed his gratitude to her and I couldn't agree more with everything he said.  Through out all of it he stopped several times to try to collect himself, as he could hardly speak through his tears at times.  Then he paused for what felt like several minutes but was probably only a few seconds and said, "That was the easy part."  I knew what was coming.  He said, "And then there was Jen."  He went on to talk about how I was his every joy.  That his life was about me.  He spoke of how incredibly proud of me he was.  He said that it seemed like every time he called him, he was telling him something new I had done to make him proud.  "Jen's graduating from college.  Jen's getting married.  Jen bought a house.  Jen's getting her master's.  Jen's going to be a teacher."  And then he said, "And then, Jen, you really did it.  You went and gave him Sophia."  She was the light of his life.  He thanked me for understanding the severity of the situation and doing everything I could to make sure they were close.

The next few days are sort of a blur.  Sophia's birthday was the following Saturday.  I had already made all the arrangements for her party and it never even crossed my mind to cancel it.  I would hate that, she would hate that, and he definitely would hate that.  I went through the motions and I know she had a great time.

I sit here today, on my 32nd birthday, wishing he would call me.  It's been nearly three months.  It feels more like 3 years and yet, it hasn't gotten any easier.  In many ways it's harder.  The grief is still there.  The shock is still there.  The gaping hole is still there.  Only now, I miss him.  I miss him everyday.  I think about him all the time.  I want to call him.  I want him to call me.  I want him to tell me something stupid.  I want to send him pictures of what we're having for dinner.  I just want him here.  There is no regret about not calling him enough or telling him that I love him enough.  That's the one and only benefit of knowing this was coming.  I made sure I would have no regrets.  But it's never enough.

My dad was one of a kind.  He was so incredibly generous and kind and loving and funny.  He went out of his way every single day of his life to make others feel special.  He made many mistakes.  During his final year, he opened up to me about the full impact his own father's death had on him.  Our experiences were very similar in that regard.  He told me his secrets and other very private matters.  Now that I have gone through the same thing, I can see how it could very easily have turned me toward a very bad place.  This world is worse off without him here.  Anyone that didn't know him, is short-changed and anyone who had the privilege of meeting him should consider themselves very lucky.

 There are certain things in my life that have solidified my faith.  First was when I was pregnant with Sophia.  I knew that there was no amount of science that could explain the miracle that is creating a life and a soul.  Next has been this experience.  Last year when we lost our baby, I thought it was the worst thing I could ever experience.  In retrospect I see that had I carried that baby to full-term, I would not have been able to spend time with my dad during his last year.  I'm obviously not saying I'm glad I lost that baby, I know he's waiting for me in heaven, but I can see a little piece of God's plan in that loss.  I also can see now that the timing of my pregnancy with Ellie is nothing short of another gift from God.  My dad got to know of her existence and even though he'll never get to hold her in the flesh, he's caring for her now until he passes her on to me.  It is said that God doesn't give you anything you can't handle.  If it were not for this baby growing inside me, I do not know how I could have handled it.  All the times in the last 3 months that I felt hopeless and panicked, I would be forced to think of this sweet life I'm growing and I would have to take care of myself.  I couldn't go to the place I wanted to go.  I have two little miracles to think of above myself.

He told me one time recently that I was his best friend from the moment I was born.  It was the same for me.  I'm told that in time it will get easier.  The loss I feel now is overwhelming. There is forever a piece of me missing.

"That's the trouble with soul mates, one's not much without the other." - What Dreams May Come