i'm sorry.. who are you again?

at my dad's funeral we all spoke... my brother, my mom and i... i think it was a testament to him that we were able to do so.. for him... in my mini eulogy i spoke about priorities.. all tying into how my dad made his family a priority... i wanted to get the point across that a loss makes us realize how short life is.. and how little room there is in our lives for people who do not wish us well.. for toxic relationships....

it was sad to realize, during this whole process, who really just could care less.. or maybe someone cared but wasn't willing to put themselves out there to express it... i realized i want people who are willing to be there for me.. for us... in my life.. and i wanted those who showed no interest.. no support for me.. for us.. out of my life... i deserve better.. my dad deserved better...

since his passing.. there are people i methodically cut out of my life.. in doing so.. i felt lighter.. and it allowed space for supportive people to further surround me...

in the same vein i hope that i have been able to evolve into a better person .. a better friend... i want to be the type of person that i would want in my own life...

my brother ended his speech by thanking people that were there... "and to those who were not there... you missed out on some special memories"... i was so proud of him for saying this.. it was a way of saying... we will be okay.... we know we did our best for him.. we know we did our best for each other... but you are pitied... for not having known him the way we do.. for not having the amazing memories he made for us...

and these people will miss out on the memories we continue to make...

5 things you MUST know about my papa

the entire reason for this blog is to give me a safe space where i can talk freely about my papa... in my intro post i expressed that sometimes i felt as though people avoided talking about him, were sick of talking about him, were sick of hearing about him... but.. that can't happen.. my papa was/is the most important person in my life... my life.. who i am... was shaped by him...

for as long as i can remember my mom would say "you are just like your dad"...and that wasn't meant to be a compliment.. she meant i was stubborn... i held my emotions close.. i was independent with no small amount of wanderlust...so yup... i am just like my dad in those ways...

they say you marry someone like your dad... yeah i did that... and i will never regret it... i feel just as safe with him as i did in my dad's arms... i know he will be the kind of father who enjoys his kids and makes them feel important.. entitled to his time...the way my dad

my dad's passing has also shaped me..in my fight and hate of cancer... in my choice to live my life to its utter fullest... to be sure of myself... to grab what i want... to grasp onto my brother even harder... to love with all i have...

in his life there are 5 things that shape me as well:

1. my dad was not afraid of the tighty whiteys... he would open the door in them.. unashamed.. and more focused on the reason you are at the door to begin with... when he was getting very thin and his shorts fell down in the front lawn (can you call rocks a lawn?) he just grinned.. and said the breeze felt nice....
2. my dad loved to dance... it was not surprising to catch him doing a little jig to whatever music was in his head.. and if there was music.. watch out!
3. my dad loved music (hence the new playlist) our lives were filled with music.. many times he would start singing and after a while we would all join in... sometimes he would sit and strum his guitar and my brother would get out his keyboard and it would sound just horrible! when his mp3 player was full of battery power, he was in his own little world of cindy lauper and old country (i am sure there is an entire blog entry on this a-comming)
4. my dad was strong... not in the way that most girls except their dads to be.. i mean STRONG... naturally strong.. he definitely had a steel working bull riding grip.. holding his hand when he prayed, even in his last days, felt like holding an anvil...
5. my dad was happiest outdoors.. hunting.. fishing... camping... even simply sitting on the porch... he was like an ocean mammal.. he had to get out for air in order to live..what i think he got out of it... is what i am ever in search of.. freedom...

if you know nothing else about my dad.. if you knew him.. you knew these things... if you know nothing about me.. if you know me.. you know these things make up my life as much as they made up his own....

what the hell did we say?

we said nothing.. we didn't talk about "it".... this morning i am angry at this fact.. because it has left me with so much to speculate... i have been following the blogs of some cancer patients and i am so envious of their openness... even to be able to vent about crappy side effects or the fear of dying... we didn't talk about any of it...

even when my dad was in the throws of major pain.. we didn't know... instead we learned to look for signs like the way he would ball his fists.... why did he let himself suffer? why not just say... i need more pain meds? all because we were too weak for him.. we couldn't take knowing.. is this what he thought? didn't he know.. did't we tell him enough that he was the most important thing in our lives.. that we would carry him.. that we would do anything for him.. that we COULD take it... ???? i guess we didn't...

instead i am left to dream the conversations we never had.. the conversations that i'm sure were in our hearts but went unsaid...

in my dream last night i was curled up next to him in the hospital bed we had delivered to the house... my head is on his shoulder.. my mouth inches from his ear.. he is telling me that life is wonderful and that i should grasp all i can get.. and i am promising him that i will live life to it's fullest.. that i want to live to be a hundred and every day.. every breath will be a tribute to him... i will live the life he can't... and he is proud of me for his...

but my god.. why wasn't this said when he was here? why am i left to dream the things i should have said.. he should have said.. we all should have said... ????

children always need their parents

my brother is sick.. the flu or something... it's amazing how a stomach ache can reduce a sixteen year old the size of a linebacker to my little bubbie who still needs his mamone... (binky)...he is enjoying that my mom is taking care of him... that's what moms do.. they soothe us and care for us when we are sick....

it makes me think though.. there is a point (usually it starts at preteen) when we pull away from our parents... we express a need for independence and convince ourselves that we don't need anyone...only to realize too late that we do....

we take moms and dads for granted... especially dads.. dads are supposed to be strong... indestructible... when i was home with him during his last few months, i accidentally set off all of the smoke alarms...i ran around trying to find a ladder high enough to reach the ceiling.. i literally ripped the alarms from the ceiling one by one until it was finally quiet... i was in full panic attack mode... meanwhile my dad retreated outside to read a magazine and escape the noise.....i crumpled to the kitchen floor and sobbed.... it was a turning point for me...my indestructible dad who has always carried us could not help me....it was the first time in my entire life that he could not help me... and it hurt like hell... to know that he was probably feeling just as helpless watching me panic...

today i need my daddy just as much as i needed him that day.... and my heart breaks for that 16 year old linebacker sleeping away the flu.. who still needs his parents...both of them....

ask a question... get preoccupation

recently someone (hi nicole) posted a blog post about the possibility of strange happenings being contributed to her dad, who was also taken by this monster... it got me thinking.. and thinking... yes.. i was a little preoccupied today...

i think i was perplexed on my ideas vs. my ideals...

when my tata passed years ago... our home smelled like him for days... then later i got a visit... my husband and i got home from a road trip and the radio was on, and loud (it was the song he was buried to... number one.. it's a spanish song and i don't listen to spanish radio stations... number two... why was the radio on?) our apartment smelled of him for hours after we turned off the radio... then i started having "dreams"...they aren't really dreams..because they happen just before i fall into an actual sleep... they are very real.. i can feel things..like the fabric of his shirt... i can smell the oil in his hair... and when i "wake up" i feel overwhelmingly empty....

when my dad was fighting the monster my tata came to me... i told him i did not want to miss my dad the way i missed him... his mouth moved.. no sound came out... then later that month... he visited me and my brother as we napped.. i saw him look at my brother and shake his head... he couldn't believe what a man he'd turned into....i very very very much believe my visits are actual visits...i think my tata comes to me because i need him to...

when my nana passed years ago.. my mom saw her in the hallway of the house the day after she passed....she was healthy looking.. rather than looking like she did when Alzheimers not only took her memory but ravaged her body.. i very very very much believe my mom did see her...i believe my nana wanted my mom to know that she was no longer sick.. no longer suffering...

knowing these things one would think i would welcome a visit from my dad or some inkling that he is still with us... I DON'T... i haven't yet wrapped my mind around it yet.. but i think i prefer to believe that he is in a far better place than earth.. and that he is not thinking of us... i once heard (not sure where) that when you get to heaven you forget your earthly life.. so that you don't miss your loved ones.. and the life you had.. that heaven truly holds no tears... i want to believe that my dad is happy.. and not missing us or feeling helpless that he can no longer carry us as he did in life... i want to believe that we assured him on his last day that we would be okay without him.. that he passed on without worry....so i find myself closed to the idea... in order to believe the ideal...

it's a paradox of thinking i know... like i said.. i don't quite understand it myself...

from the mouths of babes

kids... they seem to have a better handle on this grieving thing than most adults..

i left my special ed. student teaching assignment for three months to be with my dad...when i told my kids i was leaving to be with my dad and that i had no way of knowing when i would be back they had tons of questions:

why can't he go to the hospital?

why can't the doctors help him?

is he going to die?

each question i answered honestly...the question that seemed to stick with me was "when he dies, will you always have tears in your eyes?"... it's a loaded question... it could mean.. will i cry, or will i be sad... but it made me think that he could see my sadness.. and he wondered.. will that go away...it made me think of something someone told me about loosing a parent...it's a pain you never heal from.. you just learn to live with it...

when i came back to finish working with the kids they had many condolences to give... mostly they said i'm sorry...or nothing

it struck me that these kids understood more about grief than adults when one parent told me..."ehh.. it happens.. better him than you right?" when adults say things.. i have to remind myself that they really just don't know what to say... but even kids know that in that case.. you just don't say anything...

a few weeks ago my cousin's adorable son who loved his tio robert. asked when he was coming back.... his dog had died too and he said they were just taking too long to get back....

i know Ry... they are taking way too long!

a lifetime of lessons on his last day of life

my papa's last day is not one i like to think about.. but there are parts of it that i have to think about...that give me strength

he woke up in the morning and we knew it would be a different day because he wasn't able to get out of bed for the first time...he spent the morning in and out of sleep...at one point he called me close to him and gave me a message to tell everyone "just thank you, just thank you, just thank you"...by about 7pm. my aunt, who was a retired hospice nurse said that it would be a matter of minutes... his breathing was shallow.. he was non-responsive... we prayed and sang to him.. hours passed and he was still there... we took turns sitting with him.. sharing memories.. while it was a hard time.. sad.. there were tears... but there was also laughter... and more importantly...togetherness...

at midnight my cousin and brother put on papa's rodeo gear and took his cowbells out to announce the new year (this was papa's idea... days before he told my cousin that he could ring in the new year.. literally) the boys jumped in a convertible and we cheered them on...i cried and laughed at the same time... i was so sad that papa was in bed and possibly wasn't aware of what the boys were doing... and happy that they were doing what he'd wanted them to do....

more hours passed and at about 3am my brother and i went to lay down.. we left him with kisses and constant reassurances that it was okay for him to go... a half hour later we were woken up... he had passed... i will always believe he waited for his kids to leave the room... he didn't want us to hang on to him as he let us go....

i will take what i've learned for that day and put it to use for the rest of my life... appreciate those you love.. never fail to thank them.. to love them... and above all LIVE... live life... be crazy.. ring those proverbial cow bells every day... let everyone know...you are alive... that you are life!