Looking Back

I found myself at the cemetery today...wasn't planning on going, but found myself there as a way to get to mom's house. I had no real reason to go...but felt the pull to do so. I'm so thankful it was a beautiful day...a soft breeze and lots of birds singing in the nearby trees. Definitely my dad's type of place. It would have been one of those days that I would have found him sitting out in his back yard under a tree...doing much of nothing...just sitting. The vision makes me smile.

The plot was still very recognizable...there hasn't been enough time for grass to grow on the mound. I was hoping to find something green there...some weeds at least, but found nothing of the sorts, just a mound of mud that had recently been re-topped due to settling factors. Beside the small grave marker sat a ceramic blue rooster, a small wooden cross, and three silk flowers that had fallen amidst the grouping. My siblings had made their way there many times and left mementos of my dad. I just sat there, crying.

After pulling myself together for a visit with mom, we discussed the possibility of getting a Realtor this week and get the process of selling his estate rolling. I went to visit dad's place before returning home this evening. Again, I don't know why, but there was a pulling of sorts. To my amazement, there was a sense of peace as I stood there in tears looking at everything...all of the trashed metal, delapitated out-buildings, and broken fences. I walked throughout the yard, as if yielding respect, and shut all of the open gates. Three of them were open and for whatever reason, that bothered me. Dad didn't like to have gates opened. I then walked across the front yard where a plague of memories came flooding back. The tree was there...standing strong in the middle of the yard, and the grass was so green...being well fertilized by the grazing chickens. I saw me throwing a football with Davy, Prom pictures being taken, yard jarts being played and the 5 layer human pyramid being built one Thanksgiving. As I washed the tears away and opened my eyes, they were no longer there...the tree had been taken by Hurricane Rita, and the yard now a wintery-yellow...taken over by the grass that died and now laid like hay. The steps had crumbled and were taken over by weeds. A window broken and never replaced...either due to distraction of more important things, or just by the dementia that slowly took my dad.

I really need to be ready to help mom take care of selling the estate, but quite honestly...I don't think I am. All I know is that I have to start moving forward, and in order to do that, I had to look back today.

The First

The first Christmas without dad...it was a strange day...but I guess it is supposed to be. I kept myself busy, here in Michigan, in hopes of not having a meltdown infront of my husband's family. I almost succeeded too, until I talked with Missy...I think she is finally starting to grieve and today it hit her. And so, we cried for a little and just enjoyed each other's presence, allbeit, over the phone.

Actually, I'm glad we weren't home for Christmas. I think I would have been a basket case there. Traditions were changing due to evergrowing families, locations were shuffled, Ray wasn't able to come home, mom preparing for surgery, etc....would have been too much for me to handle all at once. Yes, I'm glad we are here ...in the cold, snow, unfamiliar to the every day life for me. The kids are having a ball, and have decided they want to live back where it snows. There was snow on the ground when we arrived and we got to enjoy it for one day before eveything began to freeze. We had a winter advisory for Christmas Eve due to the ice, but then today, everything melted. It is to snow the next two days and we are hoping to take the kids sledding. Being busy with it "all being new" to the kids has helped with the grieving depression. Hearing their little voices sing and laugh help keep things in perspective for me.

So, the First Christmas has now come and gone, and I'm glad it is behind me. Yes, I was sad. Yes, I was depressed. But the fact still remains...Christmas isn't about "feelings" or family for that matter, but about a baby...born in a manger...all because of the cross to come. Yes, it was my first Christmas without my dad, but Praise God, it was his first Christmas with Jesus!!! Yes, I honestly believe that. I honestly believe, and saw, the change in my dad before the dementia completely took over. Thank you Jesus for coming to make a way for my dad to FINALLY spend a Christmas with the One it is all about. I just wished he could have experienced you here, in front of his family...with his family. Things could have been so different...but I am praising you that things are different for him now.

Missing Dad

I should have done this earlier today...I felt IT coming on early this morning, and yet again, I swept it away and got busy so I wouldn't have to answer Grief's call at my door. Of course, I have learned that after not answering for a while, IT gets mad and slips through the front door when you're not paying attention and attacks you like an intruder. I can't do this right now...I have things to do and places to go, but IT doesn't care. IT makes me so mad at my dad and so mad at me because IT interrupts anything and everything I am doing to try not to deal with the bottom fact that I miss my dad...my gripey, dirty, smelly old dad. I miss him so much today, that I even miss the dementia. Sadly enough.

I didn't think Christmas would be this hard. He didn't like Christmas...lots of bad memories from my grandfather linger around this time of year. I praise God that I don't know about all of them, but the ones I do know makes me realize that I despise my dad's dad...and I never even knew him. I despise how he had an affect on dad, and how that had an affect on all of us. That is where my anger is coming into play. I never got presents picked out by my dad...wrapped by my dad, considered by my dad...if it weren't for mom, we wouldn't have known Christmas at all...ever. The times dad was home with us on this holiday, he was either drunk or drinking, and yelling at us all to be quiet and sit down. No, Christmas wasn't a happy time of year for us...so why am I missing him so much now? Why am I the one paying the price for the unhappiness he/they caused all those many years? It doesn't seem fair. If my dad were here, part of me thinks I would tell him that I wished he would have been a better father...to a little girl, and to the one that grew up seeing him miss out on so much. And then there is the other part of me...the one that longs to hug his boney little frame one more time and tell him how much I love him and that I am glad God chose him to be my dad. The battle that rages within me is almost too much to bare at times. I wish I could just forget the bad times even existed...that way I could only miss the good side of my dad. I wish I could just cry at this time of year because of the great, family memories that were made at Christmas.

There Grief, are you happy now...I said it. I miss him...I miss him more than I ever thought I would. I miss him more than he deserves...but I guess I just realized......

I am missing him as much as my heart wishes he deserved.

I still can see him wink, smile and give me the "OK" sign as he made that little noise he made. Merry Christmas, dad. I think you would have enjoyed this one.

A New Normal

Wow, it has been a while since my last post. Dad got seriously ill in May, and the rest of the year has been nothing but a whirlwind. Dad was diagnosed with Severe Dementia with Sundowners Syndrome and was sent to live with my sister Terri. Life as we knew it was to never be the same...not for us, not for dad. Without reliving the past 7 months, let's just say dad slipped in and out of our reality and pretty much settled into his own reality, of which much of it was new every morning. During this time, I learned a lot about my father, some of it funny, some of it very disturbing. During this time, I saw forgiveness given and accepted, past hurts healed, and a few memories made. And during this time, caring for a man who no longer knew any of us or himself for that matter, created a new normal for my family...a new normal for 7 months until dad completely slipped away from us...2 weeks before his death on September 20, 2009.

Up until now this blog was used to capture a few special moments, pass around a few creative lines, and to share some laughter...all in hopes of receiving a few witty words in return. Things have changed now, and I have a new normal. This blog will no longer be used for that, but rather as an escape for me...a place of therapy...as I meet with Grief face-to-face. This will be to Sam', from Sam', as I process the many phases of grieving. This will be a safe place for me to vent my thoughts, cry, throw fits...pretty much do whatever I need to do to get myself to where I hope to be one day...celebrating a new, healthy normalcy for myself.

Questions, questions

I recently had bladder surgery...a bladder suspension, but better known today as a bladder "sling." One little prick and I came home with a catheter for 5 days. Okay, you can only do so much with a plastic bag of urine hanging out of you...in hopes that 3 curious little ones don't pick up too much with what is going on.

At first, Keaton was confused...all she knew is that mommy went in to "fix her belly" (if only that were the case) and now she can't hold her babies for at least 6 weeks. This was devastating to Keaton...my little nurturer who cries every night just thinking about not being held. She woke 2 days ago with her grand idea of "holding me." Every since I came home she won't let me go 2 steps without running and grabbing my hand to "help me." She is my caregiver...so sweet.

Caleb, on the other hand, is my brave one whose lip trembled as we prayed the night before my surgery. I overheard him dishing out orders to the girls about how they were going to have to help me around the house because "mommy had something in her belly that fell!" Mind you, as he is telling this story with his hands, it looks as if my bladder fell completely to my knees. :)

And then there is Bailey...sweet, little, chatter-box Bailey. Like her brother, she can not accept yes or no answers. Here were just some of her questions...

*What's in that bag?
*Where is it coming from?
*Where does that tube go? (as she is lifting my pj leg) I simply replied...my belly
*Does it hurt?
*How far does it go in?
*Can you feel it in your belly?
*Can you go poop-poo?
*What made your belly fall? (okay, I could have many answers for this one, but I simply said that while she and her sister were in my tummy, they crowded out everything else and pushed things into places they weren't supposed to be.)...what was I to say...Everytime mommy sits, sneezes, coughs, picks you up, throws a football, talks on the phone, etc., etc., etc., she pees on herself? Could you imagine the questions that would follow that one?



These questions were never ending, and all seemed to be asked within a 3 minute time frame. I finally had to tell her to shut-up. Politely. She was making my head hurt.

And so now I am recovering, catheter free, on the couch with my three little ones gathered around like chicks. Caleb wanted to know what I did with my catheters because he thought it would be a good idea to keep them in case someone else needed them. :) :) Always thinking of service! :)

A Mom Moment

This happened last Friday, but is too good to let go by without recording. Last Thursday night Caleb informs us that Friday is(was) Storybook Character day and that everyone was to dress as a storybook character. A little miffed that it is 8:30 p.m., I am trying to recall as many characters as possible. I vaguely remembered getting something in his folder a couple of days prior telling us of this special day. So at last moment, he decides to go as "Huck" Finn. Simple enough. So Friday I send my precious little Huck off to school...brown suede loafers with no socks, jeans cuffed up, a plaid shirt buttoned wrong, and of course, the straw hat. We were in a hurry that morning, (as always it seems) so I kissed him and practically pushed him out the door. Later that day Caleb comes home with his folder and a note from his teacher which simply reminds me that Character Day is Feb. 20th! :)

Poor Caleb. :) :)

God Speaks!

God is so awesome!!! I have just started the Beth Moore study, Esther. Tonight after church, I was doing the last day of the study (because we meet tomorrow morning), and my niece Shantel calls. Just calls...out of the blue. The phone is handed to me in the midst of me underlining a profound line in the study...a line that wasn't completed until after my phone call. Long story short, over the phone at 9:45 p.m., Shantel gave her heart to Christ. What a moment for the both of us...I have prayed for this for so long, and I long to see Shantel's true potential that only Christ can give! Things have been tough for her, mainly due to her bad choices, and to be quite honest, I wondered if God was still working with her or not. After the phone call, I realized that I needed to finish the day's lesson, no matter how excited I was. I needed to finish underlining the sentence I left in mid-stream. This is what was underlined before the phone interruption: "...train the eyes of your heart to see how an unseen God works in similar ways in your own life experiences and remind you that He is never more present..." After the phone call, the underlining is finished with "...than when He seems strangely absent." WOW! It blew my socks off! So, may this be a reminder to those of you who have prayed and prayed and prayed for loved ones...

...that God is never more present than when He seems strangley absent.

To God be the Glory!!!