Today is the anniversary of the day my dad left us. It has been two years. I wonder if it will always be such a prominent memory? Or if it will fade? Will I forever find that I live in a nightmare from January 21 until March 10?
My dad was a jolly human. He had a passion for life and a huge, charismatic personality that drew people to him. Those cute little memes and quotes that say, "surround yourself with people who feel like sunshine." That was my dad. He was bolstered by people. You could watch him come to life when surrounded with people. It fed his soul. He was always a "the more the merrier" sort of person. To the point that sometimes we would be annoyed at how we could never just have a family gathering. To him everyone was family and no one should ever be without this.
I've pulled him off his pedestal on occasion this year to exam some of the ugly behavior. But seriously, why do I want to come to grips with that side of him now? He's dead. I have the right to remember and cherish and damn the haters. but my brain says that if I look at some of this shtuff honestly, maybe I can move past some of the crippling emotional stuntedness in my own life. The stuff that makes me choose the wrong guy every time. the stuff that makes me doubt myself on a basic level of human existence. Pedestals are dangerous places. And I know that.
But I also remember this day, after the one night that no one stayed with him. The night he was alone. I wonder how alone and frightened he was. I wonder if he just needed that one soul in the room with him to hang on. I wonder if that would have been better? no. I know that since the 2nd of March when we chose hospice, until the 10th when he left, was hell. Utter. Literal. hell. hell to know his pain. Hell because he was hovering between life and death. Hell of morphine induced sleep. Hell.
I ofter wonder if there had been another way. But there wasn't one that we saw. And the suffering blessedly ended on this day. March 10. 2020.
Rest in peace my sweet Daddy. I know you are rejoicing with your savior.
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| This is the last day Dad was ever home. We did not know then that a vicious microbe was consuming his brain and stealing his life. |
First, I'm sorry for your loss; yet, I hear (and know) the level of pain and suffering that comes with watching a loved one hover between life and death. Thus, there is also some relief that settles until the memories return. I'm with you. It's easier and better the remember the good with just a smattering of the not-so-perfect that we all are.
ReplyDeleteThis is hard. I don't think the pain from losing a parent ever goes away. It just finds a permanent spot in one corner of your heart and makes its home there.
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