Memory Lane isn't for the Faint at Heart

Yesterday was another bad day. They've been more frequent recently, as have nightmares and insomnia.

I know this will pass. I know that one day I'll wake up and not have to MAKE myself smile. I'll wake up and think about my sweet Daddy and just feel happy with all the wonderful memories I have of him....instead of 2 seconds of happiness followed by bouts of crying.

Last night I had my Griefshare meeting (http://www.griefshare.org/) ...I'm starting to dread and look forward to these. As I mentioned before, one of the hardest things about grief is that it's lonely...it's SO personal that there's not a soul on this earth that can take away the grief. One of the many incredible women I know at Harbor Church - Uptown in San Diego told me last year while my dad was sick that even though she had been married to the love of life for many years, when her Daddy died, her sweet husband just couldn't really comfort her....not to the extent that you would think anyways. At the time I was going through my phase of "I need a man, and I need him NOW...I need someone to protect me and hold me and make me happy even if only for a short time." Her words made it abundantly clear that no man, no person, could take away the loneliness this loss brings.

But Griefshare is different. While I still leave the group with a heay weight on my shoulders, for the time I'm there, I'm not carrying the weight alone. They have boulders strapped to them as well, and they GET it. Being surrounded by others who deeply understand the confusion and intensity of this time somehow makes it easier to bare. They are my little angels. That's what we are for each other. The Lord makes it clear to us all that we are not supposed to "do" life alone. And sometimes, in these yucky seasons of life, He has specific people who He wants us to walk with.

But it's not just my griefshare friends - it's the people who knew and loved my father. I feel like I'm in a strange place with many of my dad's friends and extended-family. It's hard to explain it. We're there for each other...we'll always be. But...I can't help but wonder if it's sometimes just harder to be around each other? I NEED them, I NEED to frequently spend time with people who understand how amazing my dad was & who understand, without any words, what the past year and a half has been like...and what that means for today. But I know that our time together is now changed...and sometimes hard.

I just finished reading through the blog of one of my dad's surrogate daughters. Sandra was one of the girls that my dad could always depend on...and he ALWAYS loved her like one of his own. She's been a big sister to me in many ways...her and Rene have ALWAYS given me hell, gotten me in trouble, kept me outta trouble, given me needed insight, held my hand, cried with me, laughed AT me, and I know they'll always be available to talk. Reading Sandra's blog entries from July, while my dad was in the hospital, his last 24 hours, and the trip we had to take to TN to bury him, was....hard for me.

So much of that time I remember, but it's much like a bad dream...but on one of those nights where you wake up all the time mid-dream and then can't remember what's real and what isn't. So reading her words, her memories, is difficult...it brings it back...and clarifies that my dad isn't just on a long vacation.

He did fall down at 6am in our house (possibly due to a heart attack) and spill coffee everywhere...a stain I can't bare to look at, but I can't bare to get down on my knees and scrub away either. Less than 12 hours later I DID take him to the ER and he was admitted into the ICU. And during the 7 days that followed my father went from needing some fluids & booster shots, to having a terrible case of pneumia, a heart attack, kidney failure, and next-to-no platelets or white blood cells (which meant the pneumia could not be fought off). That DID happen. I DID have to tell them to give the morphine...I DID have my last conversations with him, and I did spend his last night on earth with him in a hospital room. I KNOW these things, some of them I remember far too videly (and I wish I didn't), but....I think they're just now becoming real to me.

I think I need to get these memories out. Forgive me for sharing such sad memories...but I feel like I need to. They're stuck somewhere in my head, but I've been numb to them. They need to come out.

As do allllllll the AMAZING memories with my dad. I'll share those too...gladly.

For instance, I remember last year after my dad started chemo/radiation, I was on edge. I was scared and nervous about what was coming up, and I asked my dad every 5 minutes if he was ok or needed anything. He, in Judge Warner fashion, would just roll his eyes with a little smirk on his face & then bluntly say, "NO. Go do something." One of these days I left him alone for a little while & when I came back in his room he wasn't on his bed where I had left him! I felt an instant of panic, and then I looked over and he was sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor cleaning out the cabinet!!!!!!!!! OK, if you know my dad AT ALL, you know the man didn't clean out his cabinets. I just stopped & looked at him and said, "Daddy!...what, what are you doing?!" He looked at me like I'd lost my mind and said, "What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm fixin' things up a bit." I suggested he shouldn't be doing that and he told me to go mind my own business. :)

I miss my smart-ass of a Daddy. He made some of the best facial expressions of anyone I know...and once you knew him well enough, you knew exactly what each expression meant & could already hear the words that would soon come out of his mouth. I loved that even while Daddy felt horrible, he still had that mischievous look on his face...there were many days he didn't, but many days he did. At the very least, he'd always give me his nose wiggle - that meant I love you &/or it's ok/git 'er dun.

Perhaps the lesson I'm learning today is simply that I have to feel my memories...I couldn't really do that before, now I need to.

So, Lesson #6: Memories must be made real. They aren't just dreams.

~Jac