The can’t-spit-it-out-yet post

I’ve been drafting this post about my father’s burial and I just can’t seem to find the right words. It is like if I went to the Grand Canyon and described it as a big hole made by water. You don’t really see it or feel it with a description like that.

So, instead of writing the perfect post (which I will do some day because it was so amazing) I will tell you a story that someone told me about my dad.

In 1994, my brother had necrotizing fasciitis. He was extremely ill, hospitalized for quite a while, and closer to death than I care to think about. It was a scary time for our family.

Shortly after the first Christmas after his illness (and after my brother was much better), my dad ran into our neighbor and they were making small talk. My dad drove a 1979 Ford truck and was joking with the neighbor that he had hoped to receive a new truck for Christmas. My dad laughed and said that, actually, had received something much better. The neighbor questioned what that was.

“I got my son back” he said. “I got my son back.”

Home again

I’m home again, after a whirlwind tour to NoDak and back. I thought I was going for a week and ended up staying for three weeks. I knew dad was dying, but I just never thought it would go so quickly.

I’ve lots of stories to tell. Of how it turns out that I am stronger than I thought, of how proud I am of my brother – the one who usually pushes my buttons, of how The Girl was the brightest light not only to me, but to my dad, through all of this. Lots of stories, but they will take time, as there are also lots of tears.

Thanks to each of you who have sent your thoughts, prayers and/or kind wishes. They mean more than you know.

All I have to say for tonight is the refrain that stays with me all day and all night: I miss my dad.

He’s gone

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W. H. Auden

Dad died today, at home, with family present and holding my mother’s hand.

Things are still sucky …

If there has every been a time I wanted to post and couldn’t, this is it.

I’m using my mom’s computer, which is in the middle of everything. Getting a private thought down on an e-mail or post is almost impossible. I feel like a teenager writing “POS! POS!” Every time I try to write something.

The change in my dad in the last ten days has been astonishing. He went from sitting up, dressed, in a chair in the living room, to staying in bed 24/7, never dressing and barely conscious. Basically if he is awake he is in pain, so he is given pain relief which knocks him out.

It is horrible. I want to shout out about the unfairness of it all, but when would it ever be fair? Has anyone ever gotten sick where someone said “well, he/she deserved that.”

I’m having horrible thoughts which are just too shameful to write. Thoughts that confirm I am a much weaker person than I thought I was. Thoughts that maybe I will share once I get home.

I’ve already extended my ticket once, and now I am not sure what to do. I am scheduled to leave Sunday and I want desperately both to go and to stay.

This sucks. That’s just about all I can say right now. This totally and completely sucks.

A little good news …

I thought I would be able to sneak away and dash off a few lines, but the second I start The Girl comes and sits on my lap. We’ll see how well I can do this.

I thought I would say two positive things in the middle of so much sadness: The first is that although my dad’s body is failing fast, he’s mind is just the same. He’s still a smart ass, still cracking jokes. When you look in his eyes you see the same man who has been there for the last 40+ years of my life.

The second is that The Girl is totally unphased by everything. She has always been grandpa’s girl, and she still is. I thought maybe the fact that he looks a lot different than the last time we were here (less than a month ago) and that he is in bed all the time would make her a little scared, but she is not at all. She hops right up on the bed, talks to him for a few minutes, gives him hugs and kisses and hops down again. It both warms and breaks my heart.

So, that is all I am saying today. Tomorrow I may share the bad news, but today a little good news is needed.

Thanks again to everyone for your support.

Hospice

Hospice is coming tomorrow for the initial visit.

My father is going down-hill very, very quickly.

Send me all your positive energy, would you?