It's Time

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.


  1. So many raw hard memories. Sigh. I'm sorry.

  2. Sucks.....3 years....6 weeks for do you survive? I'm thinking we need to get together again ! I am so sorry you are dealing with family issues on top of missing your dad!

  3. I'm so sorry. I keep wishing I'd have something better to say than I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it. I really really love you. I really love your kids (Bella really loves her new penpal).

    I wish he were here, and I wish I could at least understand why he had to go. I'm here. And the minute you need a getaway, you just hop on a ferry. I'm here. Love you buddy.

  4. I am so so sorry! My heart just breaks for you all. I know this isn't much but I do pray for you all. (((hugs)))

  5. So glad you are writing again my friend. Hugs.

  6. I have tears running down my face and I cry for everything you and your siblings have lost. And your children. Oh Lord, please lift up my beloved brother's children and grandchildren.
    Becky, my head is full of your voice singing the song "My Heart Knows" That's all. And know that you are loved.

  7. Oh Becky, I am so sorry that it has been so hard. Know that I will listen and that I am praying for you.

  8. I haven't been here in a long time. I didn't realize you had anything here because my reading list didn't update. Maybe because you changed to private. I love you, Becky, and I'm sorry things have taken such a weird turn in your life. Healing is sometimes a long process whether it's your physical body or your emotional state and you have a right to do it in your own way and on your own time. I can't imagine any worse feeling than being abandoned by someone who is supposed to be there through thick and thin. I'm so sorry and I wish I were closer so I could hug you more, talk to you more and enjoy you and your family more. Miss you!


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