Father's Day
I reflect on my father, and on his passing almost 3 years ago, 1 day after my parents 51st anniversary. I wonder if he knows we are all ok, and keeping watch over mother. I wonder if he knows how very much I love him, and miss him.
I went to the cemetery this morning, early, the dew was still on the grass. Squirrels were playing in the trees, and the birds singing a symphony to God.Cemeteries are calming to me, the serenity, the quietness. My family is there, great grandparents,grandparents,father, uncles, sister, son. I talked to my dad as I weeded around his grave stone. I told him secrets, yearnings of my heart, assured him we were fine, and taking care of mom. I told him how much I love him.
My fathers death was not sudden, we knew he was dying. At least, I knew. I tried to share that with my siblings, and the just didn't, or couldn't, hear. It was too difficult for them to believe, so they chose to ignore the situation. I went up every weekend to do what I could to help out, and just to be there. I was there so much that when my father started hallucinating, I was in his hallucinations!
"Tell her to go home, it's late" "What is she still doing here?" were a few that I remember mom sharing with me. He also hallucinated about old Navy buddies, and his grandchildren.
My husband had only been out of the hospital for 3 days, for a life threatening anemia. Mom had just had her first chemo a week earlier, and dad was medivaced to Christ Hospital on June 23rd. He had congestive heart failure and cancer. He wanted to die at home, but refused to allow the nurses into the house for home health care. Said he didn't need them. Mom wasn't able to care for him, as she had her own physical problems, and was very weak. Dad's pride kept him from dying the way he wanted to die. He could not ask for help from anyone, other than mom.
Thoughts of my father are with me today. I remember sitting on his lap as a little girl, putting my head to his chest so I could feel the rumbling as he talked. I was his little princess, his Peanut, he called me. I remember my imaginary friend, a little girl named Pricilla, who carried a basket of kittens around. She was my best friend, and went everywhere with me! One Saturday morning it was my turn to go with mom and dad to the grocery store. We lived out in the country, and it was a special time to be able to go to the store with my parents. It meant time alone with them, and usually a Sunday from the local drug store.
Pricilla went along, of course. On the way back home, I started crying. We had left Pricilla at the drug store. Dad turned the car around, and we picked her up. I was a happy little girl.
There was no recrimination, no "she is not real" from him. There was acceptance, and love. He had it in his power to break my heart that day, and he chose to wrap me in his love, and pick up my little friend that only I could see.
Today is bitter sweet. I have the good memories of my dad to wrap around my soul and that is comforting. The not so good memories, I shelf for today. I can visit those anytime, today I want to honor the man who helped give me life, and who loved his children the beset way he knew how.
I have a wonderful husband who is a father to 7, and a good father. He loves all his children with a fierce love, and a protectiveness that is reminicent of my dad. He makes no difference between biological children, and the children I birthed. He loves them all.
I stopped to see Abby, my best friends daughter who died at the age of 20 last year, in a car accident, on my birthday. Her birthday is today, and her parents had placed a huge basket of red roses on her grave, and a wreath, with a card. I though of the anguish Deb must be feeling today, missing her daughter. I wish I could take away her pain, but I can not. I can be arms to hug, a shoulder to cry upon, or to lean on.
I feel as if we are somehow tied together, her death on the day of my birth. I remember when she was a teen, and really giving her mom a hard time. I remember when they worked through all the anger, and came to a place that mothers and daughters come to, acceptance and love.
I remember her smile, her infectious smile, and her sense of humor, and loyalty to her friends.
I am filled with gratitude for so many things today. For having had a dad that loved me, for having a husband who is a "daddy" and for knowing Abby.
I went to the cemetery this morning, early, the dew was still on the grass. Squirrels were playing in the trees, and the birds singing a symphony to God.Cemeteries are calming to me, the serenity, the quietness. My family is there, great grandparents,grandparents,father, uncles, sister, son. I talked to my dad as I weeded around his grave stone. I told him secrets, yearnings of my heart, assured him we were fine, and taking care of mom. I told him how much I love him.
My fathers death was not sudden, we knew he was dying. At least, I knew. I tried to share that with my siblings, and the just didn't, or couldn't, hear. It was too difficult for them to believe, so they chose to ignore the situation. I went up every weekend to do what I could to help out, and just to be there. I was there so much that when my father started hallucinating, I was in his hallucinations!
"Tell her to go home, it's late" "What is she still doing here?" were a few that I remember mom sharing with me. He also hallucinated about old Navy buddies, and his grandchildren.
My husband had only been out of the hospital for 3 days, for a life threatening anemia. Mom had just had her first chemo a week earlier, and dad was medivaced to Christ Hospital on June 23rd. He had congestive heart failure and cancer. He wanted to die at home, but refused to allow the nurses into the house for home health care. Said he didn't need them. Mom wasn't able to care for him, as she had her own physical problems, and was very weak. Dad's pride kept him from dying the way he wanted to die. He could not ask for help from anyone, other than mom.
Thoughts of my father are with me today. I remember sitting on his lap as a little girl, putting my head to his chest so I could feel the rumbling as he talked. I was his little princess, his Peanut, he called me. I remember my imaginary friend, a little girl named Pricilla, who carried a basket of kittens around. She was my best friend, and went everywhere with me! One Saturday morning it was my turn to go with mom and dad to the grocery store. We lived out in the country, and it was a special time to be able to go to the store with my parents. It meant time alone with them, and usually a Sunday from the local drug store.
Pricilla went along, of course. On the way back home, I started crying. We had left Pricilla at the drug store. Dad turned the car around, and we picked her up. I was a happy little girl.
There was no recrimination, no "she is not real" from him. There was acceptance, and love. He had it in his power to break my heart that day, and he chose to wrap me in his love, and pick up my little friend that only I could see.
Today is bitter sweet. I have the good memories of my dad to wrap around my soul and that is comforting. The not so good memories, I shelf for today. I can visit those anytime, today I want to honor the man who helped give me life, and who loved his children the beset way he knew how.
I have a wonderful husband who is a father to 7, and a good father. He loves all his children with a fierce love, and a protectiveness that is reminicent of my dad. He makes no difference between biological children, and the children I birthed. He loves them all.
I stopped to see Abby, my best friends daughter who died at the age of 20 last year, in a car accident, on my birthday. Her birthday is today, and her parents had placed a huge basket of red roses on her grave, and a wreath, with a card. I though of the anguish Deb must be feeling today, missing her daughter. I wish I could take away her pain, but I can not. I can be arms to hug, a shoulder to cry upon, or to lean on.
I feel as if we are somehow tied together, her death on the day of my birth. I remember when she was a teen, and really giving her mom a hard time. I remember when they worked through all the anger, and came to a place that mothers and daughters come to, acceptance and love.
I remember her smile, her infectious smile, and her sense of humor, and loyalty to her friends.
I am filled with gratitude for so many things today. For having had a dad that loved me, for having a husband who is a "daddy" and for knowing Abby.