Oh, I Miss You Now

I remember listening to this song on the drive home for Christmas last year, and crying because it was so sad. Just to even think of what it would be like to lose. What it would feel like without. How it would hurt to miss.

Oy

Crazy week. Cuckoo crazy. I'd write it all out here, but it always makes me a little nutz to read posts where people list off all the stuff they've accomplished. Especially if I've accomplished nothing.

I finished packing and loading the van. That's all that really matters. It's been hard, the last while, and every day seems to get harder. How does a person pack for their first ever Christmas without their Daddy? I'll tell you how. They put it off till the last possible minute and then wildly throw everything together in a big rush.

Tonight I am doing what my Gramma Newson calls "eating and eating". And some drinking and drinking. (Not that kind of drinking. Just regular drinking.) I'm hoping if I eat and drink tons tonight I won't be too hungry or thirsty tomorrow. If I weren't driving I wouldn't worry about not being allowed to eat or drink till after my dentist thing, but I always get so hungry when I'm driving, don't you?

And speaking of dental things, it's tomorrow at 2:45. Pray I don't die. (I really shouldn't have googled. When will I learn?) Hopefully it will go well, and in a few days I'll be feeling fab minus eight teeth. Either way, by this time tomorrow it will all be over but the crying.

So I'll talk to all of you once some of the drugs wear off. Peace out.

(Wait. What if I die? I can't have "peace out" be the last thing I write on my blog. Yes, I am that morbid. And that paranoid.)

Love you all.

On My Mind

Yeah. I can't do it. At least not all of it. I can't think of anything tonight.

Except, this Spring when Dad was in University Hospital, I took Ben and Sam to visit him. When we left Dad stood in his window so we could wave at him from the parking lot. And when we drove away he was still standing there.

I picture him standing there so small in one of so many windows... Getting smaller as we drove away, and then out of sight. It was excruciating to leave him there that day.

I miss him.

Twelve Days

Well people, it's that time of year again. Time for Becky's Twelve Days of Christmas. Only, I'm thinking I might pass on it this year. For two reasons:

1. I'm not sure I can come up with twelve favorite things for twelve days in a row. If you hadn't noticed during NaBloPoMo, I tend to end up with a large quantity of depressing posts when I have to post every day.
2. I have dental surgery booked on the 18th, and I'm thinking that I won't feel much like posting after having eight teeth removed. (Four wisdom, two baby, and two impacted adult teeth. Sounds fun, yes?)

I still have till tomorrow to decide though, so we'll see. I just looked through last year's list and came across this post, so now I'm crying. A year ago today at around this time, Mom and Dad would have been getting ready to go home to Saskatoon after popping in for a visit on their way home from Seattle...

I think I'll spend some more time agonizing over my upcoming dentist's visit. It's going to be a cake-walk compared to... Other stuff.

Blah. I hate how whiny and depressed I've been lately. It's depressing.

Story Time with Sam

We got a new book order yesterday. Don't you just LOVE book orders? I do. LOVE.

Anyways, I always try to let the kids each pick the book that they'd like to get. Ben got a Hotwheels pack of three books and Sam got the book that he is going to "read" for all of you in this video. So everyone gather around, sitting criss-cross apple sauce, hands to yourself, and listening ears on. Once upon a time...

I just know that Aunty is going to be SO proud when she sees this.

Right There

This is the slide show that we played at Dad's funeral. I've been meaning to post it over on his blog, but there were some things on it that needed to be fixed and honestly, it's very hard to look through pictures of him.

Today though, I looked at all kinds of pictures and videos. I can't believe that they are the only way I get to see him now. I miss him more every day.

Sometime this summer I was riding beside Dad in his car back to Martensville from a trip into Saskatoon for something that I don't remember now. I don't remember how we got onto the topic, but he told me that he wanted the song on the slide show played at his funeral. That version. And I said, "Well, thanks for telling me, and I'll try to remember, but you may want to write that down somewhere since it'll be a long time till I need to know that, and I'm sure I'll have forgotten by then."

We both knew I was only trying to brazen it out. We both knew I was scared that maybe he should be telling me lots of stuff like that.

Today he's been gone for two months. It feels like two minutes and two years at the same time. One of the videos I watched of Dad today was of us walking with Ben while he rode his new bike for the first time. I watched and listened to video Becky talking to video Dad. I saw us walking along behind Ben on his bike, and chatting about whether to try and re-adjust the training wheels, or whether to just take the bike back and get a new one, and even though I remember being there very clearly and I knew it wouldn't happen... I found myself willing video Becky to put her arm around him. "Hug him! He's right there! Just reach out and touch his arm."

He was right there.

Dreaming

I was expecting it a lot sooner actually. My first dream with Dad alive. It helped that I was very aware that he had died, and that the time we had with him was not going to last, that the next day he was going to go back to Seattle for more treatment, and that he wasn't going to make it... Again.

He wanted to take Mom shopping. That part hurt. And it hurt that I found myself playing on the computer and watching TV and saying to myself, "I shouldn't be doing this, this is my last night with him." I suppose it's natural to resent every minute you spent doing other things, when you lose the chance to spend time with someone you love, so no mysteries about where this dream came from.

The part that hurt the most though was the hope, of course. Because, even though I knew he had died, and that this new treatment wasn't going to work, a little piece of me was still hoping that maybe he would go back to Seattle and this time he would come home. Hope hurts almost as badly as despair sometimes. Because of course, there is no "this time". There's no more time.

I'm just glad this dream wasn't too hopeful. I'm not looking forward to the one that is so real I wake up thinking he's still alive. That one will really hurt. This one was sad, but I'm used to sad.