grief

i don’t even know where to begin.

i haven’t written in months & w/ everything that has happened in just the past 10 days, i know i’ve needed to.

my dad’s journey has been sad, hard & helpless…
while 7 years is short in the grand scheme of life…
but 7 years w/ cancer, complications, surgeries, ER visits, experimenting new pain meds, receiving 2nd, 3rd, & 4th opinions, hospital bills, insurance changes, sleepless nights, infection after infection, & pain…
is really long.

it’s so selfish of me to wish we had more time w/ him knowing he went through so much of what i just listed.
& i know he didn’t hold on to the life he was living for him…

it was to stay w/ mom.
it was to play ragtime piano for disney guests.
it was to see his grandbaby light up & make her giggle & dance.
it was to visit w/ his youngest daughter when down from nashville.
it was to hope to play golf again.
it was to direct his choir.
it was to have family dinners & enjoy grangies cooking.
it was to hopefully see the Rockies again while watching the sunrise and sunset on the ranch.
it was to hold on for others & the experiences he wasn’t ready to leave yet regardless of how he felt or how his health ACTUALLY was.

mom would always say that he’d bite his tongue & hide how he was really feeling every time we’d see him.
yes, he’d moan & groan when he had to get up from his spot on the couch or from his chair at the dining room table…
but she said that was nothing compared to the agony he’d express when it was just him & her.

it breaks my heart.
& i can’t imagine how hard that must have been for my mom.
the empathy she’s had to experience every day while also trying to become numb to it so she could deal…
but there were some experiences she never got used to.
she said that every night when he’d get ready for bed, he would be in so much agony that she’d have to leave the bedroom to avoid hearing the noises he’d make out of pain…
that she’d wait for him to crawl into bed & then go into the bathroom to get ready for bed herself & just cry on her vanity stool bc she’d feel so bad she couldn’t do anything for him…
bc there wasn’t anything a doctor, nurse, surgeon, or holistic healer could do at this point.

so w/ knowing that…
i feel so guilty wanting him to stay longer.

how dare i wish that upon my dad?

but that’s the thing…

“wishing” is the word i use bc it’s unrealisitic.

what i truly wish for is him to be here…
cancer free, pain free & infection free.
i wish he never had complications healing after his original surgery 7 years ago.
bc those complications were here every other month…
almost every holiday.

throughout the last few weeks, i’ve been looking at pictures.
whether they’ve been on facebook, IG or just on my phone.
i look at dates they’ve been taken or posted & it’s so hard to believe that truly…
he was in the hospital every 1-4 months… for 7 years.

i guess i find it hard to believe bc we chose to see the hope & feel faith that each time in the ER would be the last time.
that’s what anyone hopes, right?

but last week was different.
when my sister said i needed to take off work on friday, monday & tuesday, i knew it wasn’t bc she was being needy or selfish.
when my mom said i needed to be at our family meeting w/ the doctor on tuesday, i knew it wasn’t bc she was being dramatic.
i didn’t want to admit it then, but i knew it was different.

the doctors made us talk about palliative care.
about hospice.
about life insurance.
about work leave of absences.
about a 4-5 month timeline.
all while daddy asked…
“really? but i’ll be fine”
“can we set up treatments or surgery again?”
“can i get back to disney to play?”

those 4-5 months we were quoted turned into 4.5 days.

i will never forget my moms phone call saturday morning saying we needed to hurry.
we gathered what we could, woke lulu 15 min after she had fallen asleep for her morning nap & rushed to the hospital.

& i will never forget what my dad looked like on that saturday morning.
i had just seen him wednesday night.
i’m so thankful my mom called us when she did.

he was still somewhat responsive.
my sister had been taking care of him & playing his music for him all day.
he reacted to our voices…
turned his head toward our faces when we spoke…
motioned for water when he was thirsty…
said “up” or “down” when he needed his bed adjusted…
even smiled when he heard videos of lulu & his piano playing…
& even said “duane!” when his brother got there.

but things went south fast & by sunset, mommy snuggled up to him & asked him to rest & try to sleep.
that’s when we started singing.

hymns.
o brother where art thou.
disney.
his favorites.

from 8p-12a we all had fallen asleep in his room together.
i had been holding his hand the entire time.

i woke up at midnight to his breathing softer.
we believe he was truly resting.

& w/ that said, at 3:38a i woke up to the nurse checking his vitals & softly saying:
“hey family… he’s passing…”

i switched places w/ my mom so she could be by his side…
& by 3:41a, he was gone.

grief had flushed over us all day.
but the feeling we all felt in that moment was something i can’t describe.

immediate sadness.
helplessness.
shock.
anger.
relief.
disbelief.
silence.
emptiness.
cluelessness.

& it still does, 10 days later.

what we thought would happen in 4-5 months just happened.

i don’t know what daddy’s quality of life would have looked like if God had kept him here another few months…
but if they would have been anything like the last few days, or even weeks, i wouldn’t have wished that on him.

while ppl say comparisons are the stealer of joy…
so are expectations.

bc i expected to talk w/ him later.
i expected him to see lulu again.
i expected him to be at her 1st birthday next week.
i expected to visit the ranch in The Rockies this spring.
i expected him to make it to at least 1 more Father’s Day.

& i can barely see the screen as i type that none of this will happen.

& just as much as i wish him to be pain free, i wish him to be here w/ me.
w/ us.

an expectation he had for the weekend he passed was to be in st. augustine w/ mom, his brother & sister-in-law.
they had driven from colorado after having set these plans for months.
they kept thinking they should cancel them not knowing if he was going to be out of the hospital in time to make it…
but i’m glad they didn’t.
bc that was where he wanted to be so that’s where we were going to go.

after leaving the hospital around 6:30a, we went to breakfast at mom & dad’s spot; rodeo diner.

mommy said what she wanted me to share as i typed it up.
by 7a we shared w/ our world that daddy had passed.

the support flooded but i had to turn my phone off.

in the rain, we went to our houses, showered, & packed for a roadtrip & night on the beach in st. augustine where we met my uncle duane & aunt jodi.

we watched the full moon rise & reflect on the water.

it was like he was there.
& goodness i wish he had been.
the beach house they rented even had a putting green on the back patio.
he would have loved it.

it was cold.
the rain storms brought in a cold front that he would have loved too.
he always loved when the weather matched the colorado weather he grew up w/ & missed.

i cooked.
we drank.
we cheers’d.
we told stories.
we watched the football games he had been talking about all week.
we cried.
we cried some more.

we woke up for the sunrise & it was the 1st time we had seen the sun in 24 hours.

the next week was a blur as we got everything ready for his visitation & service.

my sister was incredible in designing the programs.
my aunt jodi was incredible in writing the eulogy.
my mom was incredible in holding her shit together when communicating all the things w/ all the ppl that needed to know all the details (including the funeral home, life insurance planner, daddy’s stage managers at work, her school office, health department & hospital staff).
my husband was incredible in being the best daddy & partner ever so i could be present & whatever my family needed me to be.
& the rest of my family & framily were incredible for just being there, contributing their talents to make plans happen… not to mention flying in from all over the country.

i love & hate how quick everything was planned.

but thinking about having to anxiously wait for the services to happen, even now, gives me knots in my stomach.

the visitation, friday night, was beautiful in his home church of 25 years.

the service was the next day & was live streamed on my fb & recorded for our memory & to share w/ those who couldn’t make it.

we followed it w/ a jam session full of jazz & dixieland music thanks to friendships & musician family of decades. it was so unbelievably special.

my mom sang. i sang. alayna sang.

family from colorado & illinois

7 years… especially the last 2… have been a build up of “when”.
so it’s not that we wanted all of the celebrations to be “over & done w/”…
at all…
but we want to move forward knowing he’s w/ us in his perfection… in his healthy… in his healed self.

these waves of emotions have been bottled up & continue to be here & there.
1 minute i’m thankful & full of joy that he’s no longer in pain…
& the next minute i’m inconsolable & hyperventilating knowing he’s not going to be here when lulu takes her 1st steps, sings her 1st song, plays her 1st piano recital, or just runs in to give her 1st hug around his legs.

the pain…
the emptiness…
it’s everywhere.

the day of the funeral, i had to rush to ross to find something to wear bc the jumpsuit i had just ironed showed the zipper broken which i thought had been fixed.
i didn’t have time to try anything on, i just bought 3 jumpsuits.
i went to return the 2 i hadn’t worn & they were almost going to make me keep them bc they had been on sale.
when i explained my situation to the cashier, i immediately started crying.

i broke down in ross returning items of clothing.

yesterday, we were graciously given a gift card to doordash.
mom wanted mexican & to order ceviche.
we all cried when she tasted it bc she said “daddy would have loved this ceviche”.

i couldn’t listen to an instrumental rendition of “a dream is a wish your heart makes” on lulu’s lullaby playlist last night on the way home.

i’m finding i can’t listen to “it’s a wonderful world” or “unforgettable” either.

it pains me to think my birthday will be at flower & garden festival at epcot again w/o wheeling him around w/ us while he holds lulu’s hand in her stroller like he did this christmas.

thoughts of trips my mom & him wanted to go on…
their anniversary…
his birthday…
this thanksgiving…
christmas…
all the things that “would have been”…

it’s suffocating.

& then the thought of even going back to work.
which i know we have to.

i’m thankful i get 2 weeks breavement.
so thankful.

i’m thankful my band & subs are gracious & patient.

i’m thankful my business doesn’t have a quota i need to hit every month & that my team is standing firm on their own.

i’m thankful my sister is staying in town until lulu’s 1st birthday.

i’m thankful my event planner for it went w/ my vision for changing themes.l to honor this time.

i’m thankful for countless friends & family members who have reached out to us & offered prayers, advice, flowers, encouragement, food, socialization & hugs during this time.

i’m thankful for many things during this time.

but while i’m thankful, i’m feeling entitled.

i can feel the way i feel for however long i need or want to.
i get to choose how to handle my emotions & grief.
i will eventually master the juggling of the “on & off” switch.

i know i can’t live in sorrow forever.
i know i will be ok.
i know everyone else will be too.
& i know daddy wants that for all of us.

i know he’d say “i’m sorry” & “it’s going to be alright”.
& i know he’s reading his john grisham, playing the “lurayna may rag”, & having a glass of massbach ridge winery’s “reserve”.

i missed him the minute he was gone.
i missed him the night after he passed.
i missed him the next weekday i couldn’t call him to say good morning.
i missed him while i went through 27,000 photos on my phone.
i missed him when walking koda, his buddy.
i missed him when our family came down to celebrate him.
i missed him when everyone shared their stories.
i missed him when the band played their jazz & dixie standards for him.
i missed him when i woke up & had coffee this morning.
i miss him now as i type this.

i don’t know how missing him & not breaking down looks like, but i know it’s not going to happen soon.
& i know that it’s ok to not be ok.

i love you, daddy.
i know we’ll be ok but we will forever miss you.