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Wednesday, March 31, 2004

People are always telling you that change is a good thing. But all they're really saying is that something you didn't want to happen at all, has happened.
-Kathleen Kelly, You've Got Mail

There is too much of that right now. None of this that has happened, is anything near what I ever wanted to happen. I try to stay positive, and I believe that I am. But there are things that happen, and moments where all of that goes out the window.

One of those things happened last night.

I ended up talking to 2 people about it last night. I'm never going to mention names, but you 2 know who you are. I know this is vague, but maybe I needs it to be. It was a moment in time...and, as all moments do, has passed.

But what I learned from that moment is that there is a lot of work ahead for myself and my family. Tolerance will be the operative word.

I often wonder if my daddy looks at us and feels helpless to do something.

I want to tell him not to worry...that it will all work out.

But I worry...I worry a lot.

Where's that Serenity Prayer when you need it?




Tuesday, March 30, 2004

I'm usually able to write poetry at an outpouring of emotion, but I can't seem to bring myself to write anything.

Everything I start to write seems like it's not enough.

Everything that I start to feel is too much to convey.

I went again to my father's grave today. I needed to go before I went to Las Vegas this weekend.

I sat on the grass this time. I usually just sort of squat on the grass, not completely sit on it. This time, I actually sat...and I felt like the rush of emotion was greater than before. I don't know why, but sitting on the grass made me realize that was the only way to be physically close to my father.

I miss you daddy.


It is my sister's birthday today, and my auntie is leaving for Canada tonight, and she had a talk with me and my sister. She just wanted to let us know that this is going to be the difficult part of the healing process...new household dynamic, the new financial burdens, but most of all, the new situation for my mother.

I love my mom with all of my heart. She is a great mother, and has raised us with the love and attention all children should receive from their mothers. She is the emotional side to my father's reason, and they made for great parents. My mother is all heart...she is a giant walking heart. She feels everything and feels for everyone.

I know I can be impatient with her at times, but it's because I don't understand why she doesn't see how wonderful she is. She is so afraid that we will leave her if we get annoyed with her because of what is going on...and I have told her over and over that we will never EVER do that to her.

Yes, I did move out...but that's growing pains. That's my own independence and need for autonomy that made me want to be on my own. My mother needs both me and my sister, and there's nothing that can deter me from being there for her.

It breaks my heart that she believes that my sister and I are capable of leaving her in her time of need. But I guess it's because the person she leaned on the most has suddenly left her, and what's to say that we won't either. In her mind, the worst possible thing has happened...and then next worst thing would be for her children to leave.

My vow to my mother is to take care of her for the rest of my life. For me-since I am unmarried, nor do I have a boyfriend right now-the worst possible thing would be to lose a parent...and I can't let the next worst thing happen...

which is to lose the other one.

I love you so much mommy...


Monday, March 29, 2004

This is about to get random. That's where I am. I'm in a state of randomness.

Should I feel guilty for going out and having fun?

Sometimes I do.

I had a really nice weekend. I went out dancing on Friday night. I went to my daddy's grave, my God daughter's birthday, and a barbeque with friends that night on Saturday. I went to the Wild Animal Park with my sister yesterday.

I could never forget my father. There are times when I'm consumed by the thing that I'm doing...but everyday, I think about him.

I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend. The first time I ever went to Vegas was with my family when I was very young. Then we went again when I could actually drink and gamble. I think my daddy got me my first drink at the slots, come to think about it. It was a pina colada with a little whipped cream on top. I was worried about drinking in front of my dad, but he didn't seem to mind. We stayed at the Excalibur hotel.

I guess the guilty feelings stem from my mother's guilt. My auntie (my dad's sister), my mother and I were talking on Saturday morning, and my mom asked me how I feel the loss as a daughter. I was glad she asked me because I often wondered if she thought about it.

I explained that the most overwhelming feeling as a daughter without my father is the loss of security. I used to have comfort knowing that when I called the house that either my mom or my dad would answer the phone. Or I would draw comfort by knowing that if I had a problem, that I had my dad to go to.

When I would go to my parent's house, I know that my dad would be watching TV in the living room, or if he wasn't there...that he would be arriving a little later that evening from a meeting. I would hear the door open, hear his keys jingle, and hear him put his briefcase down. I would yell out, "Hi daddy!" and he would say hi and ask me if I ate yet...he would ask me over and over, and I would get playfully annoyed because he did it on purpose. He would laugh and eat dinner before either joining us at the couch, or watching some boxing or wrestling match if he didn't like what we were watching. I would be there for a few hours with my parent's before going home. I would kiss my mom, then go kiss my daddy...he would ask me if I was going straight home, and I'd say yes.

He would always tell me to be careful, even though I only lived 15 minutes away...


The memories that flood back can be powerful and all I can do is catch my breath when they happen.


Friday, March 26, 2004

It's all so confusing and tiring.

That is all.


I called my dad's cell phone this morning because I knew my mom isn't using it, so I know it's not on.

I just needed to hear his voice. I feel like I don't want to forget what he sounds like, and althought I can imagine it vividly in my mind...I don't want that vividness to fade.

I was going to watch a video tape of my sister's wedding, but that may be too much for me. Maybe I'll watch it with my sister when my mom is out.

My sister is my Godsend. She and I have been able to go do things alone more often and be silly (we were playing jacks last night and realized how uncoordinated we've become in our 30's). When I moved out, I didn't see her as often and I started to miss her company. Now I see her everyday, and I'm so glad that I do.

My sister is the one person who I can cry with at any time because I know she will allow me to do it without worrying about trying to console me. She knows her presense is comfort enough. We have a secret language. We have an understanding.

I love her with all my heart, and both of our hearts are aching for our father.


Thursday, March 25, 2004

I visited my dad's grave today (2nd time this week).

It just doesn't sink in until I go there. I go there to make sure I know it's real, otherwise I'll just dilute myself into thinking that it's a temporary situation.

But it's permanent.

It's a nice day today...clear, but breezy. The grass was warm, but still moist to the touch. There's still a line of dirt around the patch of grass and hasn't quite blended in yet.

In time the grass will grow into those spaces. In time the stone marker will be there, with his name on it. In time, the newness of the grief will ease...

There is nothing in this world that I can compare to this feeling. I think about some of the hurt that I felt in the last 6 months from various things that don't seem as painful anymore. When I think about some of those feelings, then I hold them up to next to this one incredible feeling and weigh out the differences...it makes everything look so small in comparison.

I would never wish this feeling on anyone. I know we'll all have to go through it, but not this way.

But what I do have is the ability to deal with everything. That may sound arrogant, but it's true. Since I can't find anything that would feel as frightening as this pain is, then I know I can handle anything that is placed in front of me.

I may not always have an answer or a solution, but I can definitely see that nothing is ever as final as the grave my father rests in.

There is hope and possibility in all things that are still in this living world.


I went to the vending machine at work just now, and my ABSOLUTE favorite cookies were back: Knott's Berry Farm Chocolate Dipped Raspberry Shortbread Premium Cookies (they deserved a bold and italics).

I know it's silly to be so happy about a package of cookies (ok...so I got 2 of them), but I have to keep in mind that these little infusions of happiness are a welcome break in emotions.

It really is ok to indulge a little when you need it. I'm going to Vegas next week with a good friend of mine. After that, another friend and I are going to treat each other to a massage at a spa.

I love my friends. They help make this difficult time an easier process. They allow me to escape to dinners, movies, shopping and anything else to give me a break.

My daddy is always on my mind, no matter what I'm doing...it just the everything else that goes along with it that makes it draining.


Last night we had a "family meeting" about what's going to happen with the rest of this year.

I'm still in disbelief that I'm having these discussions because my father really isn't coming back.

And here I've bounced back to phase 1 (shock and denial for all who don't want to scroll down). It's kinda like I feel like my dad is on vacation and will return with presents and everything will be ok again.

But it's not. Dad isn't on some business trip. I know where he is.

I hate crying everyday. It's not that I feel weak or anything. I'm just so tired of crying all the time. It's debilitating.

There's this book that I was reading called "How to Survive The Loss of a Love". I can't remember the authors, but it's a great book about loss...even if it's not related to death. It's set up with several numbered sections so that you can just go to the part that you need. Following each page of recommendations and support is a poem. It's uplifting and let's you know that it's normal to feel these things that are going on.

I always feel like I have to end each entry with some kind of concluding thought...even though I know I'll be back on here at some point today.

I don't have one right now.


Wednesday, March 24, 2004

I'm afraid to start a new month. I know that sounds weird, but I'm scared to leave the month of March for some reason.

I also can't put my dad's picture at my desk yet. I'm afraid that I'll just sob while at work and that I wouldn't be able to stop the tears in time enough before the next incoming phone call.

There are times where I feel guilty for some of my happiness at being alive and well, because my father is not. But I know he would do anything for his wife and daughters to be happy and would be so upset to know that we're suffering...especially mom.

Mom felt guilty for buying a cute Liz Claiborne purse yesterday.

Stage 3 of grief.

To a "t"...


May the angels lead you into
Paradise, may the Martyrs receive
you at your coming, and take you to
Jerusalem, the holy city. May the
choirs of the Angels receive you,
and may you with the once poor
Lazarus, have rest everlasting...
Amen


That prayer appears on my father's memorial card. I picked it partly because my grandfather's name is in it (Lazaro), and mostly because it reminded me of the following song by Jimmy Eat World. It's a very beautiful song, and when I read the card...I hear this song in the background:

Hear You Me

There's no one in town I know
You gave us some place to go
I never said thank you for that
I thought I might get
One more chance

What would you
Think of me now
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that
now I'll never have a chance

May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads
The sleepless go
May angels lead you in

So what would you
Think of me now
So lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that
now I'll never have a chance

May angels lead you in



I saw my mom this morning, clutching a picture of her and my dad.

Gut wrenching doesn't begin to describe it.

We emptied out my dad's side of the closet last night, and we're going ship most of his clothes to the Philippines. Before we packed everything, my mom, sister and I each saved our favorite pieces of clothing. My mom saved the shirts he used to wear when they'd both go casino hopping. My sister kept all of his Hawaiian shirts and a sweater he wore at my mom's birthday this year. I kept a couple of vintage looking shirts, and a sweater.

I was fine for a little while, until my sister brought in a grey polo shirt that I bought for my father last year when I went to Walt Disney World during Spring Break. In an instant, the memories came flooding back of when I was walking through the Magic Kingdom "super store" and tried to find a cool shirt to get my dad. This one said "75 Years of Magic Mickey Walt Disney World".

When my sister brought it to me, she said "Daddy really loved this shirt and wore it all the time...you know that, right?"

Although I had bought the shirt just last year, it looked like it had been around for several. You can tell it had been washed many times, and started to fade a little.

When I held it...I could see my dad in it...as if it was yesterday...

and I was overcome...

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Yeah, so I changed the title of my blog to reflect that I am a Depeche Mode fan in heart and soul.

Carry on...
Something else that just came to mind are anniversaries. I'm terrible at creating anniversaries in my head about certain events that have occurred in my life.

Mind you, events are things that I alone think are "events" and may just be moments or passings in other people's lives...but I have been surprised to find that the event was just as important to that person, too.

April 7, 2004 will be a difficult month anniversary. I will now associate any date with "7" in it as having to do with my father. I don't know anyone close to me with a birthday or anniversay on the "7th", which will make things easier.

Even more difficult still will be March 7, 2005.

I hate that anniversary.

I guess you could say I'm in the second phase of grief.

1. Shock and denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining and guilt
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

These, as the pamphlets and websites have stated, are interchangeable and are often combined. I seem to be following the pattern to a "t".

I'm PISSED. Why is such a great man gone? How was it that we weren't given options at the hospital? Was this really an emergency, "cut the mass outta his head out now" kind of procedure? Could we have shrunk it? Should we have been warned that this may be the last time we would see my daddy alive?

Then I get angry at myself. Could I have been nicer to my dad that week? Could I have gone to the adjuster to look at my car so that my dad wouldn't have worried so much that the last words he said to me before he left this earth wasn't "don't forget to call the insurance company so you can get an estimate on the damage to your car"?

At least I gave my daddy one last father/daughter kiss before he passed.

Then I get angry at his grave site. Why oh WHY do I have to have a father/daughter chat with my dad through a patch of grass? Soon it will have a stone marker...and we have to decide what this marker will say as a testimony to the years my father has lived as a wonderful father and husband.

It will have to be done in about 1 line.

How do you fit a lifetime of memories, emotions, thoughts, prayers, childhood, adulthood and everything inbetween in just one line?

Geez, I don't want to angry at the number 1, too...

I had no idea my mother was so scared of being alone. Scared to the point where she won't travel alone or stay home alone unless she knows someone will return.

We saw a councelor for the first time to deal with the grief and loss of my father. My brother in law did not attend, but I guess it indirectly affects him personally, but directly affects him due to my sister. It wasn't a guided session or anything...merely a way of letting the councelor know where we were all coming from so that if we were to return for another session, then she would know what to ask.

I didn't realize how I was perceived. I don't mean to come off abrasive or brash. I don't mean to be condescending. I am an emotional person, but I guess when the emotions are too great to the point of almost being melodramatic, it frustrates me that anyone would need that kind of drama.

I tried that approach once (ok, maybe more than ONCE), and it made me feel like the worst example of myself. I hate to be out of control (especially when inebrieated), and when I'm feeling insecure like my mother feels, that's when it comes out.

I feel very guarded. Even at the session last night, I spoke my feelings in a very logical way. I didn't quite let go. I think if I had a one one session with the councelor that I could be more free with my feelings.

Maybe not.

I wish I could take away my mother's heartbreak. I wish I could fill the emptiness my sister feels inside.

"Somethings missing, and I don't know how to fix it..."


Monday, March 22, 2004

I was searching through the net to find a quote from "You've Got Mail" when Kathleen talks about her mother's passing...something to the effect of "and missing my mother so much I can hardly breathe..."

That's how I feel about my father. I miss him so much that my heart aches. It was sudden and devastating. Although I am able to move on with my life, I feel like I'm doing it with led boots underwater.

My father passed away on March 7, 2004, and this is my first ever blog. Writing is theraputic for me, and I often forget my journal at home.


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