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 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!   

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

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   

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.

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. 

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.