I was going to post a cheerful video of some kind of celebration song off of youtube, but I couldn't remember which ones I've used in NaBloPoMos of the past... So I looked at all of my end of the month posts to see which ones I've used before.
At first things were going fine, and then I came to 2009. Which hurt to read. So I read the first paragraph and moved on. I figured 2008 couldn't be worse, but I think it actually hurt more. I'd forgotten about what inspired the whole 2008 post and the comment from my dad about it. I'd forgotten that he mentioned how much he would love being a grampa to a little girl. (Which, of course, he did... For the short time that he got to do that.)
I miss Dad's comments on here. I don't let myself think about it often, and I try not to dwell on how much I miss him everywhere, all the time, in all situations, but it's been a rough week I suppose and seeing those things he'd written pulled it all up to the front of my mind again...
Last night I was talking with someone about parenthood and we got on the topic of appreciating. She thought that losing someone close, like dad, should make it easier to appreciate. And it should. I would have thought that too, before losing him. But the thing is, it doesn't really, at least not without a LOT of work.
Losing someone close makes you sad. So sad. Sad like never before. And angry. And empty. And lost and scared and hopeless and bitter. And just aching. And all of those feelings can be so overwhelming that it is often very difficult to even be there for the little people who need you, let alone to appreciate them the way you should.
If you can get past all that then yes, you appreciate, maybe even in a whole new way, but sometimes it is with a desperation that takes your breath away. Often in your happiest moments you feel the loss the most, and it's easy to let that turn into sadness or bitterness or fear again. It just sneaks up on you.
Like Becca. She fills me with deep and piercing joy. She's amazing. She's perfect. And she's so loved. She makes me so happy. But... Oh I can hardly type through the tears... Her grampa isn't here. And her grampa would have loved her with eveything in him. I picture him holding her, in one of her fancy zebra striped outfits, and I can see the love that would have been there in his eyes... The love he talked about when he said, "I want to be that kind of grandfather in a little girls life."
Do you see what I mean?
It's incredibly difficult to appreciate without missing and wishing. It's "only" been three years, so I don't know, maybe that will change. We just had it SO good. We appreciated, I really feel we did, especially after Dad was diagnosed. We appreciated every chance we had to be together, every hug, and all the laughter, and the loss of so many of those things is just agonizing now.
So there it is. Big things and small. I appreciate and I miss.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Well. There it is. Before the Extreme Barbie Home Makeover. My friend Karen and I set up all the furniture and rearranged the rooms a couple times after I took this picture. It's all very exciting. I can hardly wait to start.
I think Hannah's brain may explode when she sees this. You should have seen Sam's when he discovered what was under the blue sheet in my room tonight.
Happy. Happy happy happy.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
One thing, before I start. Has anyone else noticed that November is a really long month?)
Sunday evening, December 30, I want to be eating a raspberry frozen yogurt (or maybe nachos and cheese) (or maybe BOTH) and this is what I want to be watching:
(Even though it really grinds my gears that Anne Hathaway can sing too. That doesn't seem quite fair to me.)
Who's coming with me?
Monday, November 26, 2012
Who's ready for some information?
I used to get migraines while I was pregnant. I swear I had a headache the whole last two months (or more) of my last pregnancy. I think it's the hormones. No, I know it's the hormones.
Because now, ever since being pregnant with Hannah, I always get a migraine on the first or second (or both every now and then) day of my period. It's brutal. As if the bloating, cramps, and moodiness wasn't enough, I now get to suffer through some additional nausea, light sensitivity, dizziness, and pounding pain. Fab.
And I'm not totally sure, but I think I've noticed a pattern... Near the end of my last few periods, ever since this summer, I've been getting bouts of vertigo, which I've never experienced before. We'll see if it happens again this month.
So that's what you get today. All I can manage is a whine session. (I hate my period. Especially now that there is no point. Pointless suffering is stupid.) And a moan. Here it comes now:
Sunday, November 25, 2012
I was backing up all my photos last week and I came across this winner. Look at them. Can I just say that I love LOVE these wackos? I do.
They make me laugh every day. EVERY single day. They make me want to be a better person and they make me see in myself the beauty I had never noticed till they came along. They make each day an adventure. They make me so happy, that sometimes when I look at them, when I listen to their little voices laughing or singing, when I feel their little hands slip into mine, my heart is so full I can hardly breath. They fill my day with choas and colour and cuddles.
And they make me glad for bedtime. SO glad.
They make me feel deeply grateful and completely overcome that they have been entrusted to me to care for, to teach, to pray for and love. I am blessed.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Today Hannah and I went to the fabric store and she (unkowingly) helped me pick some fabric to decorate her new (to her) Barbie house with. Can you guess which ones she picked and which ones were all me?
Prepare yourself, because I'm going to be posting about this project a LOT.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Christmas commercials. Every year someone puts one out that makes me bawl like I'm back in the movie theatre watching ET for the first time. This year Canadian Tire wins my prize for the best sappy commercial out there. (A sodden kleenex.)
It doesn't help that the kid's name is Sam, or that it's a CANADIAN TIRE ad. (Just the smell of that store can make me cry.) Or that the song is amazing. Stinking Canadian Tire... Dissolving me into a puddle of nostalgia at any time of the day or night. Honestly. I could have sworn I had blogged about a Christmas Commercial from auld lang syne that used to have me instantly crying, but I can't find it anywhere on here. So I'll post it now. Get yourself a tissue, because it's an oldy but a goody.
(Yes, facebook friends. I realize this is a bit redundant, but you try to come up with something interesting to say every day for a month. Actually, try coming up with something to say, never mind something interesting, every day. For a month.)
Monday, November 19, 2012
Just got home. I swear I already posted today, haven't I? Sometimes I really question the point of this, but I can't stop. I've come too far to give up now...
Today I give you a list of things that are missing in our home right now that are making me crazy:
- My keys. Including my house and van keys. This one is bothering me the most. For obvious reasons.
- My glasses. In their case at least. If they're lost, it's nice to know they aren't getting all scratched up. Sigh.
- Sam's red mitten.
- Hannah's Rapunzel Barbie doll. This one is somewhere at Jonathan and Melissa's. We looked everywhere with no luck. One day soon Melissa is going to find her where Hannah left her... In a jacket sleeve or cereal box or some other completely impossible to find location. It makes me CRAZY when Hannah put things in places only a lunatic or a three-year-old would think of.
- My debit card. This one is actually bothering me the least. I lose my debit card once every couple of months. It bothers Glen. Probably because he's the one who ends up having to order me a new one everytime another one goes to wherever all my lost debit cards go to.
- Hannah's winter fairie Spike... Or she WAS missing until about 30 seconds ago. I was just thinking to myself that there was something else missing that I was forgetting, but Hannah came running into my room very excited, "I FOUND MY WATER FAIRIE!!! SHE WASN'T HIDING!!!!" That's what I was forgetting. Seriously. I'm not making this up. I wonder where she found her... Maybe my keys where there too...
Sunday, November 18, 2012
... And not even in the usual so-bad-it's-good way. (Although, it still had it's moments. Melissa and I had to work very hard to supress a couple of pretty serious giggle fits.)
Frick. That was the most fun I've had at a movie in a looooooooong time. Actually, since the second in the series. Remember this? Ahhhhhhh... Good times.
Anyways, that was so fun. Partly because I got to go with the two best things my brother's have ever done for me. And partly because IT WAS AWESOME!!!!! And finally, because Melissa was right, there is nothing as fun as watching a Twilight movie with a bunch of crazy Twihards on opening weekend.
And, oh yeah, also because of this guy:
Garrett. My new favourite blood sucker. Ohhhhhhhhhh yeah.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Last night I hurt my back. I have no idea how. I thought I'd sleep it off and wake up ready to go, but that didn't happen. Presently, I can walk, but if I do I start sweating and panting like a dog, it hurts so badly. Driving here was excruciating. (Here being Borden.) But we made it.
I stopped at London Drugs and got some over the counter muscle relaxers, the box said to take one tablet and if that didn't work to take one more. So obviously I took two. I'm writing this post quickly just in case that was a big mistake.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
You know what sucks? When you start a series on Netflix, but fail to notice that that series is only nine episodes long. Argh. (And only three of them are on Netflix, the others I'll have to find somewhere else.)
That's all you get today.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
This summer we took the kids for a canoe ride on the most beautiful evening. The lake was so calm, the kids were adorable, the sun was setting... It was perfect. And I took some great pictures of all of us in the canoe together. I'd love to post one of those photos for you, but on our way back to the dock I dropped the camera in the lake.
Glen jumped in the water (it was at Good Spirit lake, which is basically waste deep no matter where you go) and tried to find it, but the water was murky and the sun had set... So we took note of some nearby reeds and resolved to go back the next morning to look. We did. We couldn't find it. And I said to Glen something like, "I wouldn't even care, but I want the pictures of our canoe ride off of the memory card." I had just backed everything up that day, so all I was missing was those pictures of that evening. "Maybe someone will find it someday, and look at the photos on the memory card, and we'll get it back like that guy I read about..."
That guy I was talking about was this guy. And Glen seemed to think that that was a pretty rare occurance. But today I read about it happening AGAIN! And this time the story of how the camera was found was even MORE ludicrous. I love it. And I feel pretty sure that maybe not this summer, maybe not even next summer, but some summer someone is going to fillet a fish and our camera is going to be inside it.
And then I can post a picture of our beautiful canoe ride.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
So, the dream.
When I dream it is very rare that I don't realize I'm dreaming. I can often change the dream to suit myself, or defy the rules of the natural world, because I know I'm dreaming. This doesn't mean that dreams don't affect me, or frighten me sometimes, it just means that usually I can wake myself up, or fix things so that everything turns out all right in the end.
Some dreams don't need fixing though, and then all I need to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.
The other night I dreamed I was subbing. This is a pretty common dream of mine. I was subbing in a high school though, which is a little unusual. Also unusual was that the high school students went outside for recess to play on the playground. I was not expecting this so I hadn't brought winter boots, and since it was very snowy I was running around at recess time trying to find some boots to wear for outdoor supervision.
That's when the trouble started. The vice principal, a woman in a bright red pant suit, discovered me still inside looking for boots and was not happy with me. She ordered me to the office. Of course, if this had been in real life, my main concern would be the obvious "Oh no! I'm in trouble!" But since this was a dream, I was MUCH more concerned with finding my way TO the office since she ditched me to go outside to take over my supervision. The school was all maze-like the way most buildings are in dreams, with elevators, and many floors, and cat-walks, and secret passages. And as I tried to find my way to the main office I kept running into people who did not belong in the dream. I saw people from church, and people from camp, and people from band. I saw Jeff Shaw my old boyfriend pushing some kind of treat cart around selling chips and candy.
And then there he was.
I walked around a corner and there was my dad. In my dream. He was wearing his old black leather Agpro coat and a ball cap and he was just standing there waiting for me. At the bottom of a ramp. Just standing there for no reason other than he was there. And everything around us stopped. It just stopped existing at all. There was just him and me and the rest of the dream was over like a movie had just been put on pause. So I just hugged him. And smelled him. I hugged him and hugged him and hugged him all the time knowing I was dreaming and thankful for a chance to just touch him and see him. And hug him.
I'm not at all certain that that hug wasn't as real as anything else in this world. I'm not at all convinced that I didn't get the visit I'm always wishing for when I'm awake.
Monday, November 12, 2012
I was staring out the window trying to think of something to post about when my eyes wandered over to this thing sitting by the window...
I've mentioned it before, but I used to LOVE my pets, and then grew to almost HATE them. I think something about having little ones in the house made me intolerant of any other thing needing my affection or care. I won't say I hated our cats with a burning passion near the end, but it was a very close thing. I loved being a pet-free family, and I never would have got another pet for myself. I made the supreme sacrifice for the kids, and was dreading all the things that come with owning a pet.
So here's the confession: I love this dumb cat. He makes me happy. I love reading a book with him puring on my lap. I love playing with him and his feather toy on my bed. (Yes, I even let him on my bed.) I love his furry paws and ears. I love that when he plays with us he never uses his claws, none of us have ever been scratched by him. I love that he tolerates Hannah dragging him all over the house, the poor guy. I love that he plays fetch. And maybe it's just because he's new or something? but I haven't noticed any fur anywhere other than on his cute little self. And, this is weird, I'm allergic to cats, but I'm not allergic to him. I read something online saying if you're allergic to cats you should test out cats with different colouring because that can make a difference and this cat looks almost identical to our childhood cat Jynx and I was never allergic to her.... ???
I don't know, but he is the best cat. I love him.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
(Uhhhhh... I didn't remember that I used a picture as a post yesterday when I formulated today's post in my head. Maybe I'll add some words...)
Today we woke up to a winter wonderland. I snowed a lot and just kept on snowing. And snowing. And snowing. Hannah is VERY happy, because to her snow means Christmas, and all of the false starts and then thaws have been very hard on her.
So. Good day. Good, snowy, day.
Friday, November 09, 2012
Thursday, November 08, 2012
I used to clean hotel rooms. At a pretty nice hotel. And, like at most hotels, we had to clean sixteen rooms a day. During our training they took us through a thirty minute cleaning routine. Half an hour a room, for sixteen rooms, works out to a regular eight hour shift. Makes sense right?
Totally. If you don't count the half hour lunch break and two fifteen minute coffee breaks. And if you don't count the half hour or so we spent stocking our carts and running around looking for enough towels to finish our rooms, and all kinds of little things that slowed us down.
So, what do you do if are still expected to clean sixteen rooms in eight hours? You cut corners. Gross. It's gross. And even if we didn't cut corners, did you know that hotels RARELY wash the blankets and comforters in the rooms? I did. At the hotel I worked for four months I only remember the comforters being washed... Wait for it... Once.
And have you ever thought about all the things that could (and DO) happen in hotel rooms on top of the comforters? I have. And I've been bringing my own bedding to hotels for years and years now so I don't have to do those things on top of the things that other people have left behind when they do those things. Glen always acts like I'm crazy, and so do most of our friends, and I often get weird looks in the lobby when I walk through with my pile of nice clean bedding, but I've always been convinced sleeping under or sitting on top of a hotel comforter would be worse than on the bathroom floor. And now I have the proof. Check out this article I read today.
Ick. Just icky. Look at that guy's face. I feel you guy.
The only thing that this article managed to change my mind about is the fact that I always removed the bedding with my bare hands. From now on I'll be bringing some latex gloves and possibly taking a shower immediately afterwards. Well not immediately. First I'll use some Lysol wipes to sanitize the phone, remote, and faucet. Then I'll continue with my usual habit of a quick wipe down of the shower and HOT a water rinse, just in case of any anonymous curlies left behind... And THEN I'll shower.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
I've got nothing. Just a dream I want to tell you about, but I'm not in the mood. So can I just say that Modern Family is my favourite show in the whole world? I think it is. Part way because I'm watching it right now. When I'm watching Downton Abbey it's my favourite show. And Grey's. Or at least it was for a long time. The last little while has been a lot to handle, but I think I like it again.
And... ... ... There's my post. I bet you feel like signing into your google your account to read this was a total waste of time.
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Monday, November 05, 2012
Writing my blog. On the bus. Because buses have free wifi. Did you know that? I didn't. I used my phone's "hotspot" (also a knew concept to me) for a bit on the way to Regina, but I didn't want to get charged roaming fees, so I read the rest of the way. But now my book is done, and I don't feel like watching the movie I put on my laptop in case I got bored. And all the old people I talked to on the way are sleeping on the way back. (Disturbingly, I have a LOT of things in common with a bus full of old people.) So I decided I didn't care about roaming fees and turned on my hotspot to sign so I could internet it up and... What's this? STC Bus 778? Yesssssssssssss.
I went to Regina today for an appointment with a dermatologist to see if we could figure out why my arms have open sores all over them. She said what I thought she'd say. She doesn't know. Let's run some more tests and try some more creams and take some more antihistamines. I think I might feel like it has been a wasted trip if it weren't for one thing:
Angerama lives in Regina.
I have no words to say how much her friendship means to me. I really don't. We are very different, and we often see things in totally different lights, but she is a balm to my spirit and a joy to my heart in every way. She is one of those people who I feel like I can be completely me and still, somehow, completely loved.
We spent most of the day driving around to all the Walmarts in Regina looking for boots for Ben. And laughing. And crying. Gosh I love her. The only thing I'd change about her is I'd move her to Yorkton.
Oh man. I love riding the bus between Yorkton and Regina. It's ALL old people. And I love old people. They are way too fun to talk to. What a great trip. I've gotta wrap this post up because my new friend Jimmy and I are watching youtube videos. Mostly about cats. lol
Sunday, November 04, 2012
All right... I'm out of ideas. lol
So let's go back to November first when I mentioned something about more than my ankle being broken, but didn't explain it because I wanted to save that story for a whole new post. This is that whole new post. Right here. Right now.
I went to the doctor for a physical this spring. I hate physicals, but I got this reminder in the mail that I was overdue for a pap test, so I booked it. I had originally been putting it off because I started running, and I had this idea that I would knock my doctor's socks off with my weight loss and healthy new bod. (I'm halfway to being in love with my doctor.) And then I broke my ankle, so I put it off even longer, and then I got the reminder thingy in the mail. So I booked it, even though the weight loss and my healthy new bod were a thing of the past.
Anyways, (I get sidetracked SO easily hey?) during the appointment Dr. Fourie was checking out my ankle and then pushed on my leg up near my knee and asked it it was tender there. And I was very surprised when my answer was yes. "Why would it hurt THERE?" I asked.
Because it was broken.
If you look at the xray, it seems quite obvious, and I remember wondering at the time why that little bone looked like it was broken too, but since I don't have a medical degree and don't know what I'm looking at or talking about, I just assumed someone who did know what they were talking about WOULD HAVE MENTIONED IT.
I know I was in a fair bit of pain during/after my first x-ray, but I am almost POSITIVE no one told me my leg was broken too. Or while they were setting it. And I'm totally postitive no one mentioned it during any appointments or my hospital stay. I would have remembered that. Because it HURT and I didn't know why. And it bruised way up by my knee, which seemed weird. I figured it was some kind of muscle damage from all the twisting. Sigh.
That whole week was such a fiasco. I went back to find the xray and read some of my posts from that week and a few posts from the weeks after. I'd almost forgotten how awful it was. And how it felt that my mom wouldn't come the day I broke my ankle and we had to leave our kids with friends here. And how one of them had to watch Hannah the next day while Glen took me to Regina for surgery, even though she had worked a night shift the night before. We assured her my mom would be there by lunch FOR SURE because Mom promised she'd leave first thing in the morning. We assured her my mom would get there as soon as she could so that my friend could sleep.
She didn't though. She arrived sometime around four. My poor friend was exhausted by then. I felt terrible. But Mom promised she'd stay the week and for the weekend because Glen needed to get his midterm marks in and needed to be at school the whole weekend to do it and couldn't take care of me. She knew I would need to be taken care of as much as the kids would. I could barely go to the bathroom on my own, much less make it down the stairs to cook meals and change Hannah's diaper and put the kid's to bed and... So Mom would stay.
She didn't though. I actually hadn't even made it into the house when she left on Friday. We pulled up in the driveway and Glen was trying to figure out how to get me up the stairs when she and Dave (Oh, did I mention Dave came? I'll tell you about THAT later...) took off. They had the car loaded up ahead of time and left the minute we got home.
I don't remember who came to help that weekend... I just remember crying a lot. Go back and read some of those posts if you feel like reading through a lot of misery. I was completely helpless, in pain, and needed my mom more than I ever had. EVER. And she ditched me.
Wanna know why? I sure did. It didn't make sense to me that she had to go home because this man she'd met only a few weeks earlier was expecting a new grandchild. What did that have to do with her?
I didn't find out till sometime in February, during a very intense confrontation between us that involved a LOT of yelling, that she was mad at me because of an argument we had had the week before I broke my ankle, and because of some things I had said to my brother in confidence which he had repeated back to her. She "couldn't believe I had the nerve" to ask her to come and help me when we had been fighting the week before. Of course. How silly of me to think that both of us apologizing to eachother and talking it out meant that everything was okay. And even if everything wasn't as okay as she said it was how silly of me to think family should still be family no matter what. I don't think that anymore. Not about her.
See what I mean about getting sidetracked?
Saturday, November 03, 2012
So I did it. And it was FUNNY. The boys made me play this video four times before I told them to go do something else. Their favourite part is when Sam head butts me. I think it's mine too. Either that or Ben's initial reaction, "MOOOOOOOOMMY!!!" So exasperated. He really does have to put up with a lot.
I love those two chuckle heads.
(I'll post it on facebook tomorrow for everyone else, but there has to be SOME perk to logging on here.)
Friday, November 02, 2012
Two nights ago I took my last antidepressant. Not my LAST last. But the last one in the bottle. I think I've written about what happens when I miss a dose before, but in case you don't remember I'll just tell you it's not pretty. So, since I've learned my lesson I immediately called the pharmacy to order a refill. I did it before I even went to sleep and left the empty bottle out in the open to remind me to pick it up the next morning.
I did not pick it up the next morning.
I forgot until bedtime that night when I usually take my pill. Argh. That's okay though. I'll just pick it up FIRST THING tomorrow before I take Hannah to dance and I should still be okay. Only, I ran out of time to do it before dance and told myself I'd do it after and then we danced which was so fun it completely wiped the pharmacy off of the white board in my brain. So I went home.
And did it occur to me as my severe flu symptoms started to develop over the afternoon that this might be because I had missed taking my antidepressants? No it did not. Because I NEVER LEARN. It wasn't till I went to bed early because I was feeling so terrible (like my brain was trying to escape from my skull actually) and reached for my pill bottle that the lightbulb in my brain turned on illuminating the empty whiteboard which was still enough to remind me to GO GET MY FRICKING PRESCRIPTION!!! (Or send Glen. Haha.)
Argh. On the upside, instead of the nightmares that my drug info page warns can be one of the withdrawl symptoms, I had very interesting vivid dreams. I'll tell you about THAT tomorrow.
Thursday, November 01, 2012
What to post... What to post...
It's harder to think of something to write for NaBloPoMo with facebook around. I used up all my good ideas already today.
Like this one:
This is how my day started. I found this on the kitchen table this morning. Which wouldn't be that interesting, except that this is how my day started exactly a year ago:
This one was on the floor though, so that was different.
Also different was that after I posted this picture of a chewed up and discarded (gross) candy on facebook I didn't walk downstairs right after and break the crap out of my ankle. (And my leg. Did I ever tell you guys that story? I don't think so. Excellent. Another post already firgured out.) So already this year's NaBloPoMo is looking pretty good to me. Plus I cleaned my room today. And I folded all the laundry and PUT IT AWAY. (That almost NEVER happens. I wash it. I dry it. That's as far as things usually get.) Why is it that I feel so much more relaxed when things around me are clean? I didn't used to be this way.
Deep. I know. I am really good at this blogging thing.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Ever since we lost Dad I've stopped counting January first as the start of a new year. I count my years starting on October ninth. Or maybe finishing would be more accurate. It's another year that I've made it through without him here. And this one was a doozer. I'm so glad it's over. I feel like this next one will be better. It HAS to be better. I just have to make it through the rest of today. And honestly, not counting the October ninth that we actually had to say goodbye to Dad, this one was by far and away the hardest. Actually, the pain seems almost worse now than it did then, because I know what it is to be without him now. I didn't know then. I didn't know what our lives would look like without him.
I thought all day about what I'd like to write today. I didn't come up with anything. I kept opening up the screen for a new post and staring at it, trying to find words to explain the pain of today, but I couldn't find them.
So I looked at some pictures and videos that I have saved in a file on my desktop. I love this picture.
But there was no video in the file to go with it. I thought I remembered seeing a video of Dad and Sam together like this, but I didn't know where it was. So I pulled out my stack of backup DVD's and started watching till I found it... (It's long. And yes, I should never ever wear pants like that in public.)
It broke my heart when Dad told Sam he'd buy him a knife like that when he got older. Who will buy him a knife like that now? I will, I suppose, but it won't be the same.
And there it is. There is why it hurts so much to have lost him much too soon. Nothing is the same. Nothing is even close to the same. And that hurts. It hurts to lose a dad like mine. But for me, it hurts even worse to lose my kids' grampa. Because they have never lit up with anyone the same way they did with dad. Look at this video. Look at Sam's eyes. Listen to the way they say "Grampa".
And now they have no one like that. Yes, they have people who love them DEEPLY. But it's not the same and we all know it. Watching my dad love my kids was like nothing else I've ever experienced. Seeing them adore him so completely and seeing it reflected right back in his eyes... Nothing is the same as that. Nothing is the same at all. There is a big gaping hole and I'd love to tell you people that it's healing, but it's not. If anything this year has made the hole deeper, wider, bottomless. It seems bottomless.
I'm so glad this year is almost over. I hate saying that because I have wonderful children, and friends, and family who have filled this year, but they can't fill the hole. I've made it through another year with a huge hole inside me. That's how I feel.
And then, in the midst of overwhelming sadness, feeling like my heart is physically breaking, watching all the videos of all the things that aren't the same anymore... I came across this video that I've looked and looked for in the past, but never been able to find. Till tonight. When I really needed it. The folder was titled "Stupid Is As Stupid Does". There are about half an hour of video clips, but this one is my favourite.
Monday, October 08, 2012
Three years ago today we spent our last full day with Dad. This was the last day he told us he loves us. A lot. This was the last time he told me, "Don't go there Becky" when he noticed me crying in the corner of his ICU room. This was the day I brought him the picture Ben had drawn of them fishing and he cried because he missed him so much. This was the day he couldn't take anymore and he told Mom and the doctors and nurses he was done with all the needles and treatments and machines. This was the day I begged him to stay, to come home with us, to fight. This was the day he promised to keep trying. For us.
It haunts me a little, how much I asked of him that day, how much I was willing to let him suffer as long as it meant we could keep him. And it does comfort me that he was STILL willing to do that. He never chose to leave us. Through all of the pain, and sickness, and fear, and humiliation, he fought.
Which brings me to why I've chosen, for now, to make my blog private. You may have noticed that for a long time this blog has been silent. Part of that is because my blog was, from the very beginning, something I shared with my dad. And it hurt that he wasn't here to read it, to write his comments, to admire the pictures of the kids, to tease me and advise me. Another reason is that so much of my thoughts and feelings still revolve around losing him. I've mentioned that before... How I don't want people to think I'm wallowing. So, going private makes sense. This way I control who reads it, and I know that since you have gone through the effort to sign in to be able to read my thoughts, you are choosing to listen.
But the largest reason, for the last year, is that our family is struggling. REALLY struggling. Since about last year, Thanksgiving weekend, things have been HARD. How do I blog and leave out something so important? I can't do it. I've always thought censoring myself was lame. If I think it, feel it, believe it then I should write it. I am who I am, and I prefer people know the real me, not a censored me. But now... I can't find it in myself to put it all out there for even the people I can't get along with right now to read. I've struggled to decide if maybe that means I shouldn't write at all. You know, "If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all"? Or "If you can't say it to my face..."
The thing is I've said it to my mom's face. With no effect other than to widen the breach between us. And I don't know if it can ever be repaired, and I'm pretty sure that at this point I don't really care. Because in the end, she chose to leave us. Dad fought for so long, and so hard, and with so much courage to stay. And she just let us, my kids, me, all of us, go.
And I need to write about that, and all kinds of other things too. And not just write, but have people I care about listen, and write back. I miss it. I miss this space. And I miss you.
So here we are. If you are here that means I trust you. I trust you to listen with compassion. I trust you to tell me the truth. I trust you to comment on cute pictures of my kids, and make fun of my mistakes the way Dad used to. I trust you to laugh with me and cry with me. I trust you to keep what I write here between this online family for now. Not because it's a big secret, but because I need a safe place to be my uncensored self and not worry too much about who's reading.
Three years. Seems like three years shouldn't be able to make such a big difference.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
I'd like to say there are times when I remember and I'm happy. Just happy. But there aren't yet. Even happy memories hurt because they always end with me wishing he was here. I'm not sure that there's not something wrong with me, how much I miss him still, how much it still hurts.
I sometimes think about how I felt when we first found out he was sick and I thought, "I can't do this. We CAN'T lose him. He can't go." I can't. I thought that over and over and over. That was a long time ago, but I still think that sometimes, just the same as I did years ago.
But as much as I miss my dad, I miss my kids' grampa more. I miss watching them with him. I miss who he was in their lives. He was the person who would always have open arms, listening ears, and a lap for sitting in. He was the guy who took them fishing and played cars on the floor with them, who wrestled shirtless on the bed and who read them "The Monster At The End of This Book". He was 100% secure love in a way that no one else was. And I miss that the most.
I wish they could remember him better. I wish Hannah could remember him at all. It is so upsetting to me that they can't, because he loved them so much and he was so important to them. But I tell them about him, and I show them pictures, and I am so thankful for all the videos I took of him. My crazed need to document everything in my life has really paid off in a big way...
Saturday, February 11, 2012
I often find myself wishing, with everything in me, that I was a time traveller. It's ridiculous, but I think about it all the time. For obvious reasons, like hugs from people I miss, and those not so obvious...
Tonight I'm thinking of a phone call I wouldn't have answered. And you know, it was against the law to answer it anyways because I was driving... Happily driving along, chatting with my kids about happy things. Kind of excited to hear the phone ring. Happier when I saw the call display, because it was someone who I liked talking to.
I find, that I am often at my worst when I am happy, REALLY happy, before one of life's stormy interactions hit. Do you find that? Has that ever happened to you? One minute you're happily driving along with no idea a storm is right there around the corner, and when it arrives, (or you arrive in it) there aren't any dark clouds on the horizon to warn you. There are no little intermittent drops of rain on your windshield. Your window is open, there's a song you like playing on the radio, a warm breeze wafts across your face...
And then the downpour hits. It's so cold, you gasp from the shock. And before you know it you can hardly see, it's pouring down so hard, and you're shouting just to be heard.
And it's no excuse, but in those situations, I am often at my very worst. I can rarely look back on those times and say to myself, "I handled myself really well there. I said what should have been said, and I don't regret even one of my actions." Those are the times I hate how emotional I am. Those are the times I hate how I am. Sometimes who I am.
And sure, that sudden storm had a lot to do with it. No one likes to be dumped on, especially on a nice sunny day. And not very many of us are able to smile serenely and calmly go about our business when we don't even have time to brace ourselves first. All of us would rather be prepared ahead of time with an umbrella, or maybe even a way to stay inside and not get wet at all.
But of course, life isn't like that, is it? Sometimes there are warning signs for us to see, telling us to pack an umbrella, or to plan to read inside instead of at the park. But every now and then the storm comes without warning, seemingly out of nowhere. (I say seemingly, because the truth is that a storm, no matter how sudden, still needs some time and the right conditions to brew. It has to start somewhere after all. Even if we aren't aware of it.)
If only you and I were time travellers... We could go back and warn ourselves. We could make sure we're ready, REALLY ready. Or, even better, we could just totally avoid the whole storm. And not answer the phone.
And of course, snatch a couple hugs while we're at it.
(Yes. I am fully aware that I am living in a fantasy world and that it is not helping anything to wish for something that just isn't going to happen. We can talk about that tomorrow if you like.)
Sunday, January 08, 2012
"Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them, or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you find yourself doing something and wishing they were by your side." - Author Unknown
Wish you were here Dad. Wish I could buy you something from Canadian Tire for your birthday. Wish I could show you Hannah and hear your laugh when she does something funny. Wish you could come over and play lego with the boys. Wish I could call you and tell you I love you and that I wish you were here.
Sunday, January 01, 2012
I've posted about this before, so today I wanted to share a link to the blog of a person who I very much admired, and who changed the way I see my own life. For me, reading his blog was sometimes like reading what my dad might have written. When I heard that he had lost his fight with cancer today I wondered and hoped that maybe he might have taken the time to write a last post for his wife to publish. Dad got so much worse so quickly, and we moved from hoping to losing him in just a few days, so there was no time for long goodbyes, or final blog posts. I'm not sure which is better, neither probably, but I was hoping for a goodbye from Kristian today.
I didn't know him in person, but someday I very much look forward to giving him a hug and telling him in person how much his faith and life blessed my own. I like to think that maybe Dad met him "today." I think they would like eachother very much. I wish there was a way to visit heaven, and see both of them, (and a few more people) but every day here is a day closer to there and them, and I'll have to wait. In the meantime, I'm sad, and praying for his wife and two little boys. I can't imagine having to tell my children their dad is gone, or growing up without my dad in my life... So sad.