Hi readers.
Not going to lie, it has been a pretty shitty two weeks. It's been an emotional roller coaster and the ride won't be over for a long time. My father, who had survived cancer, a clinical trial where he was the only survivor, a heart attach and a blood clot condition, finally encountered something he couldn't fight and I lost him at 5:08 p.m. on June 26th. They say everyone grieves in their own way, and writing has always been therapeutic for me. I won't go into a lot of details about what happened and please respect that decision by not asking for more information. I tell the people I want to know the whole situation and if you haven't heard by now, it's not important that you know.
I decided to write this list of advice I'd offer to other people my age. I hope anyone reading this never has to experience what I'm going through, but who knows...this could be helpful to someone at some point in their life. The following list of advice is just my opinion.
1.) Always take an ambulance when offered.
2.) Know your family members' allergies, medical history, and medications. At my age, 28, I would assume most people know vague summaries of their parents' and siblings' medical histories, but not enough to go into much detail. Because my parents haven't been in the best of health, my family is a little different. I was very knowledgeable about medical procedures my father had in the past, his allergies, and his medication, both the schedule and dosages. This was very important because it allowed his doctors to get to work faster, once he arrived in Nashville. You think as the child, it would be another parent's responsibility to know this information. But you can't always count on your other parent being available, or in the correct state of mind, to be helpful.
3.) Know your family members' final wishes. When we were asked if we wanted to remove the breathing mask, even though by doing so it meant he would not survive, we knew what dad wanted. Quality of life was so much more important than quantity of life. We knew he wanted to be comfortable but he didn't want to stick around this Earth if he wasn't going to enjoy his life. We were able to give him a peaceful passing, and although my heart still hurts so much every time I think about it, I have solace in the knowledge that we did what my daddy wanted.
4.) This one is heavily just my opinion, but I would say don't look at the person in their last moments. Mom and I were in the room, holding his hand when he passed. I just stared at his hand because I did not want to see the last breathe he took. We sat there for a little over an hour and the nurse would update us on his breathing. When she said it was slowing down, I watched only his chest, watching it rise and fall slower and slower. When it didn't rise for a time, I went out to the nurses' station to let them know it was over. But, God was exceptionally cruel that day and when I entered the room, daddy took one last breath, and I saw it. It's an image that keeps me awake at night and gives me nightmares when I finally do sleep. I find myself thinking back to that moment during the day and I have to hold in my emotions at work. I know with time it won't be so prevalent in my memory, but right now, it's all I think about. Who knows. If I hadn't been in the room I may be crying at the fact that I wasn't there. There's no way to know how I would feel if I did something differently. I just know that right now, in this moment, I wish I hadn't seen that.
5.) Grieve the way you want to grieve. There are days I want to be around friends. There are days I want to be by myself. There are days I avoid everything going on and seem happy. There are days when I'm tired of saying I'm okay when I'm really not. I shouldn't be afraid to admit that some days, I am not okay. I will be, but some days I just don't want to hide how sad I am. I don't want to put on a show so people won't think I'm going to break. My friends and co-workers have been so great to me and I couldn't ask for a better support system. But know if I don't reply to a message or if I cancel plans, it's not because I'm losing it, I just want to feel what I feel and not have to put on a face for anyone.
6.) Prepare yourself for upcoming life events. I know weddings are going to be very hard. That doesn't mean that I don't want to support my friends getting married or that I don't want to be at their weddings. I wouldn't miss the two I have coming up for the world. But I am mentally preparing myself for the father/daughter things. For a while, when things weren't the best between me and my dad, I had said I didn't want him to walk me down the aisle. Now that I don't have that option anymore, I want it more than anything. Same with the father/daughter dance. I know I'll be surrounded by friends at both weddings and I love the couples who are getting married dearly. I just have to know what to expect, surround myself with friends, and concentrate on the love in the room between my friends who are lucky enough to find their other halves. The first year is going to be hard too, because every holiday/event will be the first one without dad. His birthday is in September, I had said we'd go to the UK/Vandy football game together this fall as his Father's Day present, and Christmas is going to be very lonely. Not to mention my birthday, Father's Day next year, and pretty much any significant event that happens to me. I started bawling the other day when I was watching some random tv show and a girl had just given birth and handed her father his first grandchild to hold.
I really don't have much else. This weekend will be hard because it will be the first time I've been at the house when he wasn't there. It'll be weird to not see him sitting in his chair by the computer, playing solitaire. It will be weird to not have him comment on how messy my car is when he fills up my gas tank for me before I'd return home. And it'll be weird to walk out of the house, not having him hug me and tell me he loves me. But I'll get through it, just like I'll get through next week, and next month, next year, and all of the rest of the years of my life. But even though I'll get through it, the hole in my heart which houses the pain of loss of my grandmother and grandfather, definitely got a little bigger two weeks, one day, and four hours and forty two minutes ago.
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