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.