Love Bond

"F" is for Floyd and Fabulous, Forever Friends

My beautiful trio of friends gave me these amazing charms today.  The initial "F", which stands for my Dad's name, Floyd, and a gorgeous, red heart. 

Pam, Elizabeth and Lisa are my constant lunch buddies, shoulders to cry on, ears to talk off and a source of endless love and support to me. 

Honestly, I'd have been a lost soul without the love and support I received from these hip chicks throughout this past year after losing my Dad.  They've let me be me no matter what that meant....quiet, crying, laughing, sad, happy.....it didn't matter.  They let me be Sam. 

I <3 you guys to the moon and back!! 

My tears followed you

 

They say there are no tears in Heaven, but that must be wrong today.  Because you took part of my broken heart, when you went away.  I know my tears must have followed you, how else can it be?  My spirit feels broken because you are no longer here with me.  I cried to the Heavens, my tears fell like rain.  So, I know my tears must be in Heaven.  Things will never be the same.  They say someday I will accept your passing.  But right now, that can't be true, because part of me is in Heaven...see my tears....they followed you. 

The 12th "13th" - a year without Dad

On the eve of the year anniversary, I am here sitting outside on the patio.  It's a beautiful night much like that same one a year ago.  I remember everything like the back of my hand.  I was busy outside cleaning my car in preparation for an upcoming road trip to Connecticut when I heard my phone ringing.  I chose to ignore it because I had a to do list and I was sticking to it.  It wasn't until 45 minutes later that I would hear the message that started it all, "Sam, we're taking your Dad to the hospital.  I need you to come over!"

Never in my worst nightmare would it ever occur to me that in less than 24hrs from the time of that message, my dad would be gone forever. 



A "wise" person told me, "Take it ONE day at a time!"

On 9/13/11 at 11am, I walked into the hospital room to say goodbye to my Dad. 

Life since then has been a blur.  365 days of learning how to be, to exist and breath in a new reality....a reality without my Dad.  It's a delicate dance that is still a challenge for me today.  My heart is still broken, the smell of his cologne still brings tears to my eyes, the sound of his voice in a saved message can stop me in my tracks and still take my breath away.  I'm not to "happy" yet....

So it goes..."the first year is the hardest."  I've marked a year's worth of milestones along side my family without my Dad.  It's been a year of great things that he would've loved...oh, how he would've loved them.  His first grandchild's high school graduation, his 70th birthday, said grandchild's moving in day at college, his carving of the turkey at Thanksgiving. 

Life goes on day by day.  It's different now.  I know I will eventually learn to be genuinely happy again and thinking of Dad will evoke a smile rather than a tear.  I'm not there yet but I'll get there. 

What do I miss the most? I miss his voice, his laugh, his hugs...plain and simple - I miss him.

I love you Dad!  I'm so glad I got to be your daughter because now I know what it means to be truly loved....



Dear Dad....A Birthday, A Dark Cloud, a 10th and 11th "13th"

"Each night I put my head to my pillow, I try to tell myself I'm strong because I've gone one more day without you."

Dear Dad -

It's been 11 months and 11 days.  I'm still struggling. While I try my best to make it through each day, the reality is the pieces of my broken heart can't seem to find their way back together.

A day, a song, a memory, a smell, a word...any one of these things can stop me on a dime and in an instant I'm reminded you aren't here. 

I dreaded my favorite month of the year, July.  We share this month as our birthdays are 4 days apart.  Typically, we would've celebrated together probably with a cookout, a swim, a delicious piece of grandma's famous chocolate cake and homemade vanilla ice cream. July 22 would've been your 70th birthday.  My birthday came and went without your yearly call to sing Happy Birthday to me. 

As July passed so did the 10th "13th."

As August arrived so did the 11th "13th."  How?  How have 11 months passed by since I last spoke to you, hugged you and told you I loved you?  It's true that your body goes into a survival mode after experiencing such a great loss.  Our body, mind and spirit aren't made to withstand the full effect of our grief and pain.  It would simply crumble under the pressure.  Or at least I'm telling myself this as I'm preparing for what is coming next, the 12th "13th."  I can barely type it let alone allow myself to fully comprehend the extent of it. 

I miss you.  I miss you every single day.  I miss calling you to talk about nothing and everything.  I miss your voice.  I miss your laugh.  I miss your hug.  I miss your stories (even though I had heard all of them no less than 10 times each).  I miss you asking me how my "kids" are because you know my dogs are my kids.  I miss you telling me you love me.  I miss your shirt coats.  I  miss talking about politics with you.  I miss you making everything better.  I miss asking you for advice.  I  miss you making fun of me having no sense of direction.  I miss you telling me to calm down.  I miss you telling me to drive only as fast as my wallet will allow.  I miss you telling me everything will be alright.  I miss you. 

http://youtu.be/yEhRg4OtNRs

The Storm...

"And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive.  You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over.  But one thing is certain - when you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in because that's what this storm is all about."

I Thought of You....

I thought of you today, but that is nothing new. 
I thought of you yesterday, and days before that too. 
I think of you in silence, I often speak your name. 
All I have are memories and a picture in a frame. 
Your memory is a keepsake, from which I'll never part. 
I have you in my heart!

Forever and Always....

The 8th "13th"

8 months.

8 months without my Dad.  8 months of endlessly reliving every last detail of 9/13/11 in my head.  8 months to realize I'll never stop missing him while I'm still breathing but that I'm a tougher broad than I give myself credit. 

8 months to be able to say the volume of the noise in my head has started to decrease. 

The last month has been absolutely insane.  It was awful, heart breaking, sad, ridiculous, hard, tense and ultimately life-saving.  It took me to the brink, broke me and now the rebuilding begins.

Dad - I love and miss you to the moon and back...EVERY SINGLE DAY!   

Simon's Pawprints Across My Heart

"People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life - like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?  Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Simon Massie 2/18/98 - 4/24/12

I had to say goodbye to my sweet Simon on 4/24/12.  He was 14 years old with a sassy salt and pepper coat, distinguished eyes and a face that would melt your heart <3. 

Simon's Story

In late February 1998, I walked into the Clark County Humane Society and found this cute, little puppy, who was all black with a stripe of white down his chest.  He was the one.  I was 21, a college senior and determined to get a dog of my own that day.  I had grown up with dogs ever since I can remember and now it was time to get my very first dog that would be all mine - not a family dog, but all mine and mine alone.  I paid $50, named him Simon and immediately went to my parent's house to show him off in hopes that his sweet puppy face would be enough to convince them I hadn't make a mistake.  My mom wasn't thrilled but my dad picked him up and they became besties.  

Simon became a fixture in college life for my senior year at Ohio Northern.  The best memory I have at ONU was attempting to take Simon for a walk on the Green Monster, a 2.5 mile path that jogs all around campus.  I was so excited and he was too being all prancy.  We began the journey and Simon loved it!  Everyone stopped us to ooohh and ahhh over him.  It was at the 1/4 mile that everything started going downhill.  Mind you, Simon's little legs could've only been about 3 inches long.  He started breaking down and flopped in the grass refusing to continue.  I carried him...yes, I said I carried him the rest of the way.  He's lucky he was so cute and only a few pounds!

Simon was my sidekick.  We moved from Ada to Columbus after graduation.  He lived with my parents for 6 months while my job had me traveling unexpectedly out of state.  We moved into a house where I promised him a backyard.  Simon has been with me for almost half my life.  He's experienced happiness, heartache, love, loss, sorrow, life and joy with me.  

Over the past few years as he got older, he slowed down a bit but never let it bother him.  It may have taken him a little longer to get there but he always made it.  I worked with our amazing vet to ensure I did everything in my power to help him.  Simon took a pain pill, an anti-inflammatory and a liver supplement.  Even after all of that, he was still my sweet Simon moseying across the room to get some loving and sticking his entire head in the toy box to pull out his favorite squeaker mat toy.  

Simon fell ill Monday morning.  He was sick to his stomach and didn't want to take any of his medicines.  It continued through to Tuesday morning, when I started to become worried.  He had gone 2 days without his medicines or eating.  Dr. W suggested I bring him in for a quick check-up.  He decided to get an x-ray of Simon's abdomen.  It felt like hours had passed before Dr. W came back into the room.  My heart sank when I saw his face.  He told me he had some bad news.  The x-ray showed a giant mass in Simon's abdomen that was now pushing into his stomach, the cause of the vomiting.  Instantly, the tears came running down my face and I began begging for a course of action.  Dr. W and I had a few discussions over the past year regarding him promising he would let me know when it was time because my main goal was never to let Simon suffer.  I repeatedly reminded him that once in the situation, I would do anything to keep Simon with me but that would be selfish and I wouldn't do that so he needed to be my voice of reason.  The alternative wasn't an option because both Dr. W and I knew I wouldn't have wanted to put Simon through a major abdominal surgery and sending Simon home with pain killers so I could have one more night would've been for me but not the best for him.  On Tuesday 4/24, it was time and even though I would've made a deal with the devil to keep him, the best thing I could do for Simon was to let him go and be free.  I spent awhile with Simon just loving on him, hugging him and kissing his fuzzy little ears.  He was so calm and just rested his head on my arm.  He looked into my face several times.  When Dr. W asked if I was ready, I took Simon's head and held it in my hands looking directly into his sweet, dark eyes and said, "Goodbye kid, I love you!"

I believe in my heart of hearts that Simon held on as long as he could to see me through the time following my Dad's death.  Simon would always sit next to me, give me a reassuring kiss on the nose, and let me hug onto him as long as it took until I cried it out.  I know my Dad was waiting on him in Heaven.  I like to think he gave Simon a big hug, an ear rub and bite of turkey.  

Simon was a great dog and I was lucky he came into my life and let me be his mom.  I love you Simon - now and furever!!  xoxo  (Give Dad a hug for me!)

  

The 7th "13th"

Today, it’s been 7 months since Dad passed away.  As it has been the last 6 “13ths”, my heart breaks into another set of tinier pieces.  Time stands still as my mind wanders back to that morning’s events and the exact moment when everything went black. 

It will happen.  I will stand up.  I will return.  Dad will guide me!

I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

I want you back, I want you back.

At night when the stars light up my room

I sit by myself 

Talking to the Moon

Try to get to You

In hopes you're on the other side

Talking to me too

I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

Palpable Calm

For the first time in a few months, the constant hum in my head stopped if for only a brief moment and I had a smile on my face and silence in my thoughts.  My brother, Brian, came down for a visit and to be at my house while I had a new concrete patio poured.  When I’m with Brian, the feeling that my Dad is there and all is right in the world is almost palpable.  My brother is so much like Dad even in the slightest ways.  For instance, they both put their wallets/phones/change on the countertop in the corner by the mail basket.  It’s funny and weird all at the same time.  Being with Brian gives me the same sense of security, ease and contentment that a day with Dad would bring to me. 

We can talk and reminisce about Dad and it doesn’t quite make my heart break because we’re together.   It’s sort of fun to bring up memories and giggle. 

On this visit in particular, I was having a concrete patio poured so I can set Dad’s hot tub on it.  Brian and I cracked up because Dad would’ve totally been in his element being in my backyard overseeing the guys and the process!  We both commented on how Dad would’ve been outside bullshitting with the best of them about anything and everything.  In addition, Chris, the owner of the concrete company, fell in love w/ my Dad’s Jeep, which is now Brian’s car.  Chris couldn’t stop commenting on it.  One thing you must know, Dad loved his cars.  The faster the better!  While eating lunch, Brian and I chuckled thinking about it and commented on how Dad probably would’ve started the Jeep up for Chris to hear the roar of the engine.  Almost simultaneously, Brian and I said, “WAIT - Dad would’ve driven him around the block in it and done a burn out!!”

I live for these brief escapes from my new normal.   

Here's to Dad and the new patio..I know he'd love it and I can picture us relaxing and grilling out on it in my head!  <3 you!!

Dad and Zachary at a Columbus Clippers Game 2010

New Patio and Sidney roaming

Bittersweet

It’s been about a month since my last post.  No worries, I’m still alive and kicking.  March turned out to be a dark and stormy month for me.  The 13^th marked the 6 month anniversary of my Dad passing away.  One thing replayed over and over in my head – it’s been 6 months of life without Dad, half a year without my Dad.  How?  Why?  Flashing through my mind as if on a continuous rinse and repeat cycle, all the things I hadn’t done with him in half a year, all the things I miss so dearly that my heart aches. 

I consider myself to be a smart individual but trying to wrap my arms around the concept of a life without my Dad in it is by far the most confusing, illogical thing I’ve ever had to consider.  How did 6 months pass?  Can everyone else see the weights on my feet trapping me in time?  I see days passing me by, I watch the clock progress, I see the season change but believe me when I say I am stuck on September 13, 2011.  At this very moment in time, I’m defined by that day. 

Broken

"There can never be any going back to what was.  The broken pieces of your grief have become you.  They speak of your strength, of your courage and they speak of you...the vulnerable you, the broken you, the loving you and the wonderful you"

Do you ever contemplate what would break you?  How much could you take before your spirit was broken?  I think the death of my Dad has broken me. 

People equate getting up in the morning, showing up to work and faking conversation as being strong, but I think it's more of a masquerade to please everyone and fool yourself.  If only they knew behind the mask the whole in my heart is just as big as the day he passed away, the sadness is all consuming even paralyzing at times and every day I discover another shattered piece of my old life that doesn't make sense anymore.  I am not strong.  I am not courageous.  I am broken.  I am changed.  I have scars.  I miss my Dad. 

The Funeral

A funeral, a celebration, a home going?  I was sure as the day is long, this was going to be the most horrendous, traumatic event.  But you know what?!  It wasn't....

The day was filled with love, friends, family and nonstop memories of my Dad.  I shed tears, I smiled and above all I realized that everyone saw my Dad exactly as I did and loved him so much.  He was so loved and appreciated by so many people.  Over and over I heard how he had helped people, laughed with people and cared about people.  In addition,  I can't begin to count how many times I heard people say to me, "Oh, he loved and adored you so much, he talked about you all the time, he was so proud of you!"  It warmed my heart. 

Something very near and dear to me was being able to get up and honor my Dad by speaking at his funeral.  I wasn't sure I could do it but the most amazing thing happened that day...I felt my Dad all around me.  He wrapped his arms around me, held me up and made me strong. 

I did this for him and I'm sharing it with you. 

A Daughter Needs a Dad……

A daughter needs a dad who will always have time to give her hugs and kisses, who doesn’t mind when she steps on his shoes while dancing and who will always make sure she has a place to come home to and who will never think she is too old to need him.   

**for instance, even now at the age of 35, dad would take the time to go out and patrol the pool and deck area for any spiders before I would arrive and have a panic attack**

A daughter needs a dad so she will know what it is like to be somebody’s favorite.

**There is nothing in the world like being a daddy’s girl and it is a title I hold with honor**

A daughter needs a dad to be the safe spot she can always turn to, to show her how it feels to be loved unselfishly, to be the standard against which she will judge all men and who will influence her life even when he isn’t with her.

A daughter needs a dad so that she will have at least one hero who will not let her down, to persevere through hardship and who will let her know that while she may not be the center of someone else’s world, she is the center of his. 

A daughter needs a dad to teach her what it means to always be there and teach her how things work, to show her how to fix her favorite things….or just pick up the phone and call Brian, who will make it all better b/c of the extensive HOW TO FIX EVERYTHING knowledge dad has transferred to him.    

A daughter needs a dad to show her that true love is unconditional and to help her find her way in life. 

A daughter needs a dad to learn that when he says it will be okay soon, it will.

A daughter needs a dad so that when no one else is there for her, she can close her eyes and see him. 

And Finally, a daughter needs a dad to make the complex simple and the painful bearable, to tell her that all is not hopeless, even when she feels it is and to join her journey when she is too afraid to walk alone. 

**I don’t yet know how to live or exist in a world without him, but I have to believe that he is surrounding me, will pick me up when I fall, drop little hints to guide me, and hopefully, remind me every day of how much I was loved.

 
I love you so much dad and I am so proud to be your daughter.  xoxo, Sam   

Nothing Left Unspoken

Have you ever held back anything and regretted it later?  What's the saying - woulda, coulda, shoulda?  One thing I know to be true in this wild, wacky world is there were absolutely no words left unspoken between my dad and me.  Dad knew exactly how much I loved and respected him as well as how grateful I was to be his daughter.  I don't believe there was ever a time I didn't say "I love you" before saying goodbye or giving him a hug before leaving the house. 

The last words we both said to each other were..."I love you!" 

Please don't let there be any woulda, coulda, shouldas in your life.  Happy Valentine's Day! <3


 

Dear Dad....today marks 5 months

Dear Dad,

Today marks 5 months since you were taken away from me.  I think about you every second of every single day.  I wish I could give you just one more hug and tell you I love you. 

It's a date on the calendar.  It's a day of the week.  It's the 13th, the anniversary of you passing away.  I now dread this date.  It's only a reminder of more time slipping away without you present in my life.

Where do I start?  I've got 5 months worth of stories, questions, laughter, tears and life to share with you.  So, here goes....

1.  I rocked Thanksgiving dinner..yet again!  Dinner was kick ass.  :)  We elected Brian to be the new turkey carver.  Of course, we brought up 2 years ago when you were carving the bird and cut right through the roaster pan allowing all the turkey juice to flow down the counter onto the floor (much the dog's delight).  I made a toast to you. 

2.  Zach, Taylor and I played scattergories after dinner.  We got a good giggle out of talking about playing with you a few years ago.  Remember as we went around the table saying our words aloud and we discovered you were coming up with words of an entirely different letter than what we were supposed to be using?!  And, Zach shouted out the word "jalapeno" for words begging with H? 

3.  Christmas sucked - plain and simple.  Wait - Zach, Taylor and Brian got me a GIANT, new, blue pooper scooper!!  You would've cracked up...I can hear your laugh. 

4.  Your grandpuppies are still crazy.  :)  Simon will be 14 years old this Saturday.  He's still got his spunky little personality, just a bit slower..I like to think of it as he takes his good ole time.  I've seen Max several times.  He lost weight!  No more people food, LOL.  He's doing really good Dad.  It's cute to see how he lounges in Brett's recliner with with his head resting on the arm just like he did with you. 

5.  My car isn't running right.  HELP?!

6.  I have to fight the urge to pick up the phone and call you everyday when I leave work. 

7.  Mom - enough said.  I'm so sorry for what you had to go through with her.  I'm sorry that I'm not able to hide my feelings anymore.  I feel a lot of anger towards her. 

8.  You'd be so proud of your grandkids!  Taylor's been accepted to Wittenberg and Bluffton.  Zach got his learners permit.  Michael got his license and Matthew got a 50% scholarship to McNicks!! 

9.  I'm sorry for thinking you didn't understand the uConnect phone system in the Jeep.  It is a pain in the ass!!  The dumb system never recognized who I was trying to call unless I resorted to speaking the number.  Thank you for dog-earing the page in the manual so I could figure out how to set it up. 

10.  Oh, I have been a nervous wreck about this burning smell in the house.  Per usual, I overreacted and immediately turned off the ceiling fans, unplugged my Sonicare toothbrush and all the wallflowers.  LOL, I finally think I figured out where the smell was coming from....it was the wreath with lights on it hanging on the front door!!  You know how hot my front door gets??  It's a million degrees when the sun is shining.  The smell happened on very sunny days and I happened to open the front door - the lights on the wreath were MELTING!!  The batteries that powered the lights were MELTING!!  You would've chuckled...I know you would've chuckled. 

11.  It's hard Dad.  It's really hard...life without you is hard. 

Love you - xoxo

It Takes a Village.....Ann

When Becky and I were pulling into the driveway of my parent's house the day after my Dad passed away, I made a phone call to my good friend, Ann.  As I was telling her what had happened, Ann immediately asked what she could do for me, did I want her to come down to stay with to her and I remembered what Becky told me - it's okay to lean on your friends...it's okay to say you need them.  I coyly glanced over at Becky and told Ann that I would really like it if she could come and stay with me. Ann was already juggling around her work schedule and commitments so she could be down with me the next day.   Hmm, Becky was right...it's okay to lean on your friends. 

You know the friends that have been in your life for years?  They are the ones that know everything about you and still like you regardless.  You can go a few months without talking but as soon as you do it's like no time has passed.  Ann, aka "Mickey", is that friend for me.  We were college roommates and partners in crime.  She's been there for me through the years even when I didn't know I needed her and this time was no different.  Ann stayed with me for 3 days after my Dad passed away.  She was by my side when my brothers and I met with the pastor to talk about Dad, helped me figure out what I would wear to the funeral and encouraged me while I wrote out what I wanted to say at the service. 

One of the best things about Ann is her ability to make me laugh.  And, I don't mean giggle or chuckle, I mean full on laugh so hard your belly hurts, eyes tear and your vision goes blurry because you can't catch your breath.  At a time when I needed to laugh just so I could stop crying, Ann gave me a dose of exactly what I needed!  The night she arrived, we had run out to get some dinner and had just gotten back to my house and I decided to put my "yard waste" bags out on the curb for pickup.  Ann ventured into my dark backyard to help.   As I was bending down to pick up a bag, she walked behind me and fell in a muddy hole that my dog had dug.  Did I mention she had flip flops on?  Oh she did!  Without even thinking, I said oh, Simon dug a hole, be careful and then I began laughing and literally couldn't stop for minutes!  By this time, we were both laughing so hard, I can't believe we didn't pass out.  Ann told me, "You need to put up orange cones or something around that pit!"  Now, I'm sure Ann didn't trip on purpose, but yet again, a friend provided me with exactly what I needed.  I needed...a laugh...a brief escape from the pain....a hilarious temporary distraction. 

Thanks Mickey - I love ya and there just aren't enough words to express how thankful I am for a friend like you!!

It Takes a Village.....Becky

From the moment my phone rang that awful day, my friends have formed a tight, protective circle around me.  They've comforted, rescued, protected and loved me.  They've even spoken for me when I wasn't able to do it for myself.  I'm a stubborn, independent person who isn't the most comfortable asking for help, however, at that moment I didn't know what I needed but they did and the wheels had been set into motion with everyone springing into action almost immediately of hearing about Dad.  I am in awe and forever grateful. 

Upon arriving home that evening of 9/13, I found myself sitting in the corner of the family room in the dark taking in the silence.  My eyes were swollen and red.  My head was pounding.  My mind was racing.  My heart was broken.  I made a phone call to my friend, Becky.  It would be the beginning of letting people in to take care of me.  Becky knew first hand how I was feeling because she too had lost her dad.  I clung to her words, which were validation of my feelings and a road map of what to expect.  She insisted on driving me to Springfield the next day.  I kept saying no, no, it's too much, you have a brand new baby, I can't let you do it.  She wouldn't take no for an answer and said whether I liked it or not she was doing it.  She knew what I didn't....I needed her, it was okay to accept the help and it was okay to let my friend in to take care of me when I couldn't do it for myself.

The next morning, Becky arrived bright and early armed with a care package and hugs.  We made our way over to Springfield to meet with my brothers and mom at the funeral home.  It was a long couple of hours spent making decisions, writing Dad's obituary and finalizing arrangements.  The entire time we were doing this, Becky sat patiently waiting for us to finish.  Once done, we all decided to get lunch before heading to the cemetery, where we spent another couple of hours making more decisions.  The entire day was so exhausting.  I can't express how thankful I was for Becky being there with me.  She held me up and helped me function through an awful day of making choices I don't wish on anyone. 

While at the funeral home, the director asked if anyone in the family wanted to speak at the funeral.  Mom, Brett and Brian immediately said no, but I contemplated for a minute and decided I would very much to like to get up and speak.  I asked Brian if he would stand next to me for support but he didn't think he could do it.  Without hesitation, my niece, Taylor, said she'd do it.  She'd stand next to me and if I was unable to get through she'd finish for me.  My Dad would've been so proud of us. 

On the way to lunch, I eagerly told Becky about wanting to speak at Dad's funeral.  I told her how important it was to me and I was going to do everything in my power to get through it to honor him.  She thought it was a good idea and told me of speaking at her Dad's funeral.  She shared with me what she read for her Dad.  It was beautiful.  It was encouraging and empowering to see if Becky could do it, I too could find the strength and grace to do it for my Dad.  Becky told me about a book she used for inspiration while putting her speech together.  It was called - Why a Daughter Needs a Dad.   I walked out the next day to find a copy of the book she had left for me in the mailbox!  I too used it as the basis of my speech. 

Every day since 9/14, Becky has been a constant source of support to me.  More times than I can count, I've walked into her office, shut the door and sobbed.  She often validates what I'm feeling because she too has felt the exact same things.  We share not only the love and memories of our Dads but also the sadness of a world without them.  Becky understands the reasons behind my bad days, shares in my good days and cries with me when tears are all I have left. 

After a particularly few bad days that included a lot of remorse and WHY didn't I do this or WHY didn't I do that....Becky gave me a little, laminated, business card sized note with the following saying...

WHY?
That's what we ask.
The truth is,
we may never
be able to know
for sure why.
But we do know
that there is no single
"should have done"
or "did" or "didn't do"
that would have
changed that why.
All that LOVE could do
was done.

B - there are no words! 

In the days following my Dad's death leading up to the funeral, I walked around in a complete haze and to some extent I'm still in that haze.  The only difference between then and now is that I'm better at putting on a good act.  It's exhausting!  The bags under my eyes have bags. 

Everything going on around me seems so insignificant.  I'm trying to care but nothing compares to this whole in my heart and void in my life.  I find myself looking at people while they talk, hearing words come out of their mouths but not listening at all.  The journey through grief is so hard.  The ups, down, twists and turns, I can barely keep up.  Dad is on my mind 24/7.  The volume of those thoughts fluctuates from minute to minute.  Sometimes, I wish I could mute the volume for just a few minutes.  It's all consuming and overwhelming. 

I am not the same "Sam" as I was before 9/13.  How could I be?  Everything I knew and trusted no longer exists.  I have a new reality and part of that involves not wanting to confront the loss of my Dad head-on.  I've learned that as the shock begins to fade my mind and body begin scrambling to try and reclaim some control but it is often short lived.  As soon as I let the gravity of the situation set in, the instant replays of what happened replay over and over in my head.  It's only a reminder of the obvious - life as I once knew it has changed and scattered pieces have replaced what used to be a solid foundation. 

Losing Dad has made me feel like my world stopped and recently the hardest thing is watching the rest of the world continue moving on day to day without me.  I don't know how to reconnect.

Thanks for checking on me, Dad!

Dad - how did you know that I needed to hear you today? 

My car is in the shop and I'm driving Dad's Jeep (which is now Brian's car).  I decided to fiddle around with the phone "thingy" and connect my own cell phone to it.  All the while, I was thinking about how Dad was so enamoured with this feature.  He used to make each of us sit and listen as he attempted to demonstrate it, however, he'd tell it to call one of us but the system wouldn't recognize his command.  We'd giggle and he'd get so frustrated.    Dad loved technology but technology did NOT love Dad. 

I finally got my phone paired up with the system and decided to give it a whirl.  I said, "call Nicole!"  The system voice said, "Calling Larry Sinclair," my Dad's best friend.  I freaked out and starting yelling no, no, stop when all of a sudden I hear Dad's voice come through loud and clear over the system saying, "Call Samantha!"  It was the sweetest thing I've ever heard!! 

If it takes me sitting in the car sweet talking that damn lady in the system, I will figure out how to hear Dad again so I can record it and keep it for a rainy day. 

Thanks Dad - I love you too!  xoxo 

The Day My World Stopped...9/13/11, part III

As Jen led me to the waiting room, she noticed my oldest brother, Brett, had arrived and was walking towards Dad's room.  After spending some time with Dad, Brett joined us in the waiting room as we waited for Brian and mom to arrive at the hospital.  After a few minutes, Brian finally called and asked us to meet him at the entrance with a wheelchair for mom.  I dreaded this moment....I would be seeing Brian and mom, which would make it all too real.  It would be true, Dad would really be gone. 

It's funny because I remember sitting on a bench with Jen outside the hospital and it was a beautiful day.  A warm breeze was blowing on my face, people were talking, cars were going by and my Dad had died.  I wanted to crawl up in a ball and die myself because the thought of facing another second with a broken heart was really too much to comprehend.  At that moment, Brian pulled up to the curb and my niece and nephew stepped out of the car.  We all three locked eyes, started crying and held each other in a tri-hug for what seemed like forever.  I then saw Brian.  We hugged each other quickly and then got mom out of the car.  Now the time had arrived...together as a family, we had to say goodbye. 

We gathered around my Dad for what seemed like forever.  We cried, prayed, laughed and hugged each other.  It was really all too much for me.  I was in shock as my entire world had been knocked out from under me and I felt like I was in free fall.  I started getting hot, nauseous and light headed.  I had to get out of that room.  I wanted to run but my body wouldn't move.  The room started spinning, I started sweating and forced myself to walk out into the hallway.  I tried to get to the waiting room but I didn't make it.  I made it as far as the bathroom where I violently began to throw up.  It makes sense...I was shutting down and running away from a reality that I didn't yet know how to deal with or accept. 

Several hours later, we all left the hospital and returned to my parent's house.  My head was pounding, my eyes were swollen, burning and all I wanted to do was close my eyes to escape this day and the thought of every day thereafter.  We discussed the plans for going to the funeral home the next day and the clothes we wanted Dad to wear.  Again, it was all too much, I just wanted out...I needed out.  As I was gathering up my things, I noticed Dad's shirt hanging on the chair.  He always wore thick button down shirts with flannel lining as a jacket.  We called them his "shirt coats."  I picked it up and took it with me.  It smells like him and it felt like I was wrapped up in his hug.  Truth be told, I went to bed that night with the shirt next to me. 

Finally, Jen and I were on the road and on our way back home.  I think I passed out within the first 10 minutes and slept the majority of the way home.  Who knows if I snored, slept with my mouth gaping open or drooled?

After Jen dropped me off at my car, I realized it was the first time I'd be alone all day.  I'm not going to lie, I had a bit of anxiety as I started the car because it would be this moment when I would've called Dad to shoot the breeze about nothing and everything all at once.  Car rides suck for me.  I do A LOT of crying in the car!

9/13/11 finally ended.  I talked to a few close friends, cried more and sobbed until I fell asleep.  You foolishly think sleep will serve as a brief escape from your sadness, however, I'm here to tell you the shock and grief comes back like a tidal wave the second you open your eyes.  FYI - it IS possible to cry in your sleep. 

Dad, I Carry Your Heart

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart
i am never without it
anywhere i go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling
i fear no fate
for you are my fate, my sweet
i want no world
for beautiful you are my world, my true
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart
i carry it in my heart!

The man at the cemetery mentioned he had heard of people getting tattoos with the ashes of their loved one mixed into the ink.  While my brother, Brian, was extremely interested in this it turned out to be me that went and got a tattoo.  I went back and forth with the tattoo artist on sketches and ideas, agonized over what I really wanted, whether or not I'd use some of Dad's ashes in the tattoo until the day of my appointment arrived.  On 10/1, I got a tattoo of a heart with wings and the number 9797 inside of it along with some of Dad's ashes mixed in on my left wrist.  My Dad is and always will be my heart and the 9797 was a unique number only he used. 

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart
i am never without it

The Day My World Stopped...9/13/11, part II

It was 11am on 9/13/11 - the day my world stopped.  I was 15-20 minutes away from the hospital when I learned Dad was gone.  I don't remember much of what happened from that point until Jen and I reached the hospital.   How do you comprehend or process hearing that your Dad, your hero, your protector was taken from you?  Everything around me was a haze.  I was just with Dad 9hrs ago...I just told him I loved him and would see him in a few hours....and now he's gone?  I needed to see my brother, Brian.  I couldn't let myself believe it until I saw Brian.  He told Jen he would wait on us to get to there before leaving to go pick up my mom to bring her into the hospital, however, shortly before arriving, he called back to say the doctor had called and given the news to my mom over the phone, so he had to leave to get to her.  I wouldn't be seeing Brian's face first, I would be facing this on my own. 
Before I knew it, Jen and I were parked and walking through the parking lot in silence towards the entrance door.  Remember when I mentioned my "wise" friends, well, what Jen did for me that day is above and beyond anything I can even put into words.  I will later learn that throughout that day, a network of friends were working behind the scenes to take care of me, protect me and love me when i was unable to do it for myself.
Jen and I stepped out of the elevator onto the ICU floor.  I could either go left towards Dad or right towards the waiting room.  I wasn't ready to face the truth yet and Jen took me to the waiting room.  We were only there for a few minutes, when I decided I wanted to be with Dad.  I couldn't stop thinking of him being in that room by himself.  It was something I couldn't get past in my mind.  With Jen by my side, I began the walk down the corridor to Dad's room sobbing and hyperventilating.  We arrived outside of the room and had to wait because a nurse was in tending to Dad.  I remember all the nurses staring at me with such sad faces.  I was thinking please don't do that, please don't look at me with that look because I'm that person who just lost her father.  I didn't want to be that person, I wanted to be the person who was just coming into visit her loved one not the one who was saying her final goodbye.   
The nurse opened the curtain and gestured I could now come into the room.  I slowly walked in and couldn't stop the sobbing that followed.  The nurse explained that they had worked to resuscitate Dad for an hour but were unable to restart his heart.  A pastor walked into the room to comfort me.  She was so tall she blocked Jen from my view as she approached me.  I panicked, literally panicked!  I started saying Jen's name over and over.  She was the one constant that had been by my side from the beginning and now I couldn't see her.  Suddenly, Jen popped out from behind the pastor and I locked in on her eyes and my breathing slowly calmed.  I don't know what it was but if I focused on staring into Jen's eyes, I was able to slow my breathing down and focus.  Today it seems creepy, but on that day, 9/13, it saved me.  Jen helped me sit down in a chair next to Dad.  The pastor had the nerve to say at least your Dad isn't in pain anymore.  I whipped my head around like the exorcist and said, "I don't care, I'm selfish - I want him here with me!"  I asked if she wouldn't mind leaving so I could be alone with Dad.  I sat there for a little over an hour, holding his hand, sobbing and telling him I loved him.  Jen stayed and sat in a chair in the corner behind me.  I just stared at Dad pleading in my mind for him to wake up and open his eyes.

The Day My World Stopped...9/13/11, part I

Before pulling out of the hospital parking lot around 2am, Brian, Mom and I huddled to discuss what the plan would be when we returned in a few hours to the hospital.  Looking back, I almost want to freeze that moment in time, rewind, ask for a do-over.  I wish I had never left the hospital, I wish I would've asked more questions instead of just accepting what I was being told, I wish I had never left the parking lot. 
We decided Brian would come back to the hospital first thing in the morning and that I would follow by arriving mid morning.  We both intended on gathering up work and our laptops to settle in for a day spent hanging with Dad while the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong with him.  I walked into my house around 3:30am and tried to sleep.  A million thoughts were racing through my mind, but not one of them even came close to what ultimately would transpire over the next 8hrs. 
Before I knew it, my alarm was sounding and the day was starting even though it felt like there was no break between the previous day and now.  I immediately called my boss to let her know the situation and that I was going to be stopping  at the office to pick up a few things and then head over to the hospital.  It was 2 days before my vacation to Boston was to start and I desperately needed to complete a few things before leaving town.  I made a few phone calls to close friends to update them on the events from the previous night.  Around 8am, I called to check on my Dad and was actually able to talk to the doc.  He said he had a team of docs including a surgeon assembled getting ready to start tests.  He told me he was concerned with the internal bleeding that they didn't know where it was coming from but that Dad's pressures/blood sugar had stabilized overnight.  I asked if they would do some type of exploratory surgery to find the bleeding (i.e - I used my vast knowledge from my favorite TV shows to question the real doctor!)?  He told me he would only use the surgeon as a last resort.  I didn't sense any urgency about the situation from him and said my brother would be in shortly and I would arrive in a couple of hours.  I proceeded to jump in the shower, dry my hair, put makeup on and pack up my things to work from the hospital.  Looking back, I was being so pokey.  Seriously, I was taking my time getting ready and getting out the door.  What was I doing?!  In past experiences, I've been out the door before you can say SCRAM and had adrenaline pumping when someone needed me.  Why?  Why not this time?  Later, my wise friend, Becky, will say, "Sam, your Dad wouldn't have wanted you there to see what was happening or see him like that."  Did I mention she was wise?  :)  You have no idea just how many "wise" friends you have until you're faced with a difficult situation. 
A little after 9am, I arrive at work.  Of course, everyone is curious about what's going on and want the most up to date information.  After chatting with friends and co-workers for a few minutes, I sit down to complete a couple quick tasks before getting on the road back to Springfield.  My cell phone rings shortly before 10am.  It's Brian!  My heart stops, I try to answer it, my phone dies.  OMG - something is wrong- I feel it!  I can barely get my fingers working to redial Brian's phone.  He answers and I know.  I know something awful and unfathomable is about to happen.  Brian finally speaks and simply says, "Sam."  OMG - what's wrong??  Brian's voice cracks, my heart literally stops, my knees give out, I drop the phone and an indescribable gasp sound emits from my mouth.  He said, "they're working on Dad and I think you need to get here now."  I can't speak.  I can only continuously shake my head back and forth, utter the word no over and over, and try desperately to catch my breath.  Another wise friend, Jen, is immediately up, beside me and grabbing my phone.  Brian tells her to get me to Springfield asap.  Everything is a blur to me.  Jen gets me to the elevator and into her car.  I'm crying, gasping, repeating no over and over.  Jen is quickly and calmly getting us on our way to the hospital.  I hold my phone in my hands.  Pleading over and over in my head that I'll get a phone call telling me Dad's ok - the call never came.  I remember asking Jen to drive faster, but I'm pretty sure we were already driving fast.  I'm terrified but know I need to call Brian.  I try and he doesn't answer...this sets off a whole new panic inside me.  I try again and he answers..silence..voice cracking..crying.."Sam, Dad's gone."  It was 11am on 9/13/11 - the day my world stopped. 

Shall we start at the Beginning?

It all started at 7pm on 9/12/11 with a voicemail from my mom saying, "Sam, I need you over here.  The paramedics are coming to take your Dad to the hospital."  I didn't immediately panic because if you know anything about my mother, you know she ALWAYS overreacts and NEVER gives you the whole story.  I made several phone calls in an attempt to get details from anyone and everyone.  By 7:30, I knew that the paramedics were called to my parent's house for a "general illness" and the squad went to the hospital with no lights or sirens.  The ER nurse was able to connect me to my mom at the hospital.  She said Dad was very weak, was passing blood, having tarry looking stool and very disoriented.  What does this mean?  I craved more information but it wasn't available.  My mom just kept repeating, "are you coming?  are you coming?  when are you coming?"  Soon, I said, soon.  I needed to get a hold of my brother, Brian.  He would make sense of this situation and he was in Springfield so he could make it there before me, I live 45 minutes away.  For some reason I don't understand, I didn't just jump and rush over.  I did feel slightly panicked but was diligently trying to get more information before making a rash decision.  I finally connected with Brian and he was on his way home from work.  We decided I would get on the road and by the time I got to Springfield, we'd both be arriving at the hospital. 
I was rolling up to the hospital around 9pm.  With each step, I started walking a little faster to get into the ER.  I found my mom, who was sitting in a chair eating crackers and peanut butter...to be discussed later.  I shrieked, "where's Dad??"  He was having a CAT scan performed.  I stood there and felt the panic level rising.  I saw several things scattered on the floor in the area where I was standing.  What had they been doing to my Dad when he got there?  Why were their caps, tape and wrappers on the floor??  At that moment, Brian walked into the ER and Dad was being wheeled back into his area.  He was awake, sitting up on the gurney and recognized both Brian and myself.  "Well, hello you guys", he said.  I told him if he wanted all of us to be together we didn't  need to do it this way.  He giggled.  The nurse came in and started talking to us.  The mood begins to change.  He tells us the situation is very serious.  Dad was losing a lot of blood from somewhere and he was in what's called Diabetic Ketoacidosis.  He said Dad's BP was too low to register, his blood sugar was too high to register and we needed to do a blood transfusion as well as getting insulin into him.  We were told it was a delicate balancing act to lower the blood sugar and stabilize the BP without putting him into further stress or shock.  While Dad was receiving the blood transfusion and insulin, he was talking to us.  He complained of being thirsty.  The nurse was constantly checking on him and told us Dad needed to get into ICU, but we were waiting on a room.  After a few minutes, the nurse said Dad's levels were starting to move in the right direction.  He told us he was glad to see Dad looking better because upon arriving at the ER, the nurse thought they were going to lose him.  When I heard those words, my heart stopped.  I guess it still hadn't sunk in that this was a very serious situation.  I immediately excused myself and rushed outside to call my friend, Jen.  As I stood outside on the phone, I broke down crying.  Did I really just hear correctly, we almost lost him?  What? We can't lose him, I'll die if that happens.  A million things instantly flashed before me and I couldn't focus.  I was talking and crying to Jen on the phone and I'm not even sure what I was saying to her.  The only thing that I could comprehend were those words....thought we were going to lose him.  It took a minute, but I pulled myself together and went back into the ER.  Ok - time to focus!  I went in and stood next to my Dad.  He was coherent, talking to me and still asking for a drink.  He was also anxious to sit up with his legs over the side of the bed because his back was really hurting in that ER gurney.  Brian and I helped him spin around and all of a sudden Dad started acting kind of goofy.  He swore Brian was holidng a can of Dr. Pepper.  He wanted it!  Brian looked at me and I said, well hand it to him.  What is going on - we're standing around Dad passing around an imaginary can of Dr. Pepper?!  Dad then asked if Brian was playing the piano.  We were all kind of joking around and giggling.  All of a sudden, Dad looked at Brian and me and said, "What's wrong with you two?"  I almost fell out of my chair.  We had been playing along with this imaginary game and then clear as day, Dad thinks the two of us are the loopy ones!  The joking ended quickly because a switch flipped and Dad started becoming more and more incoherent.  The nurse immediately checked him and said his blood sugar may be lowering too quickly.  I distinctly remember the nurse saying we NEEDED to get Dad out of the ER and into the ICU as soon as possible.  Within 10 minutes, we were finally on our way up to ICU.  Mom, Brian and I waited about 30 minutes and were then allowed back to see Dad.  He was settled into his room, sitting up in the bed and seemed more coherent when he saw us.  By this point, it is now going on 1:30am on 9/13/11.  The new nurse told us Dad was passing quite a bit of blood and another transfusion would probably need to take place.  It seemed like the focus was now on the bleeding and not so much on the BP and blood sugar.  Question - were there any doctors in this hospital??  I never saw one, I never talked to one since arriving at the ER.  Interesting, huh?!  Dad seemed to be settled and I even felt better because I knew the nurse.  I had gone to high school with her.  We all decided Dad needed to get some rest and Brian should get mom home.  I looked at the nurse and asked, "you think it's okay for us to go home and come back first thing in the morning?"  She said, "I don't see why not."  So I went up to Dad, told him I loved him, gave him a kiss and told him I'd see him in a few hours.  He looked at me and said I love you too, kissed me back and I gave him a hug.  I left the hospital around 2:00am....I left the hospital...I left the hospital...this decision will haunt me.        

Innaugural Post!

Well, here goes...my first blog post!  It's been almost 4 months since my Dad passed away.  I can't believe it.  The last 4 months have been a complete blur to me.  I'm walking around in what I've heard is called the "grief haze."  It seems like I'm constantly lost in a recurring cycle of sadness, memories, nightmares and then the realization that this is my new normal - a world without my Dad.  How did this happen?  Why did this happen?  While sitting in line at the car wash, I starting thinking, "I'm this girl now - without her Dad, her protector, her hero."  I dont' get it.  It's so surreal to me.  The fact that I'm only 35 and still have so many things I want to do with him is never far from my mind.  Two things that immediately come to mind are he won't be there to walk me down the aisle if I get married and he won't be there to meet his grandchild if I have a baby.  Thanks grief - thanks for making me sad for events that aren't even on the horizon for me at the moment...as if I don't have enough to worry about with just the present day.  Losing my Dad...SUCKS!
I promise there will be fun, upbeat posts sprinkled in here along with the sad ones.  :)  The journey begins...