It isn't fair
Five weeks before I turned 31, I lost my mom. One week after I turned 32, I lost my dad.
He went into the hospital with something routine for stroke patients. They were saying he would be going home soon. Then the muscle relaxers caused him to aspirate, and he ended up with fluid in his lungs. He wasn't strong enough to fight the infection. He chose to not be on machines and to go peacefully. Thursday we signed the DNR comfort care order. Friday night we were at Hospice. Sunday afternoon he was gone.
Tell me how this is fair?
My year of "firsts" was finally over. Over the past 7 months was starting to feel less numb. Yes that meant getting hurt, feeling disappointment and other bad emotions too, but at least I was feeling them again. Now we start the cycle all over again.
Last time, I watched a parent die in an instant as a barn crashed into her CRV. This time it was different. Dad was responsive up until the last few hours, and was able to tell us exactly what he wanted. He made all the choices for us. We got to say good bye when he was still responsive and could cry *with us,* and before the rest of the family arrived. I know he isn't suffering anymore. I know he is back with my mom. I know he stayed strong for Adam, Amy and I for the past 14 months, but that he hated feeling trapped in his own body. Now he is free. It still breaks my heart that he is gone. He's been my number one priority for 14 months...and now there is this big hole in my life.
He went into the hospital with something routine for stroke patients. They were saying he would be going home soon. Then the muscle relaxers caused him to aspirate, and he ended up with fluid in his lungs. He wasn't strong enough to fight the infection. He chose to not be on machines and to go peacefully. Thursday we signed the DNR comfort care order. Friday night we were at Hospice. Sunday afternoon he was gone.
Tell me how this is fair?
My year of "firsts" was finally over. Over the past 7 months was starting to feel less numb. Yes that meant getting hurt, feeling disappointment and other bad emotions too, but at least I was feeling them again. Now we start the cycle all over again.
Last time, I watched a parent die in an instant as a barn crashed into her CRV. This time it was different. Dad was responsive up until the last few hours, and was able to tell us exactly what he wanted. He made all the choices for us. We got to say good bye when he was still responsive and could cry *with us,* and before the rest of the family arrived. I know he isn't suffering anymore. I know he is back with my mom. I know he stayed strong for Adam, Amy and I for the past 14 months, but that he hated feeling trapped in his own body. Now he is free. It still breaks my heart that he is gone. He's been my number one priority for 14 months...and now there is this big hole in my life.
- I wish this didn't hurt so much.
- I haven't slept through the night since 7/22.
- I wish I wanted to eat (as I look longingly at my Packo's leftovers wishing I could will myself to finish them)
- I'm numb again...and I'm not a fan
- I'm grateful for the friends who stayed with me at Hospice and for the friends that kept me in their thoughts and let me know they were there for me even though they were far away. Even if it was just "liking" all my Facebook statuses.
- I am jealous that my siblings had friends there for them, because a text message or a facebook post just isn't the same.
- I am disappointed in a couple of people that didn't come to the showing or the funeral...he wanted you to be there and we needed you there (you know who you are...if you even read this)
- I'm not looking forward to the paperwork, lawyers, and hours of phone calls and lonely solo trips back to Ohio to get all his affairs in order.
- It sucks to know you need help, but not being sure what to ask for and even feeling bad for needing help.
- I am glad he is at peace...even if that means losing him and all the crappiness that comes with it.
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