Saturday, June 26, 2010
My Year, My Dad
This has been a tough year, and I haven't been in touch with people as much as they have been in my thoughts. I wish it were different, but this has been the reality. There has been a lot of transition, of many kinds.
The restaurant, all consuming to both families involved, closed at the end of December. The journey toward realizing it wouldn't survive the recession was difficult, and closure was the death of a dream. At the same time, we took on a very large renovation, which also was impacted by the recession and Scott's temporary unemployment, and we ended up doing much of the work ourselves. That's why it's still going on. We've learned so much about home repair now, though.
Some relationships have changed because of not being able to keep up with them, not seeing them at church with the close of the restaurant, and just the general impact of going different directions. I hope that some of them will be back on track again soon.
November 2008 my father was diagnosed with leukemia. It was a difficult process for everyone, friends and family alike. On June 27th, 2009 he passed away. I remember I was mudding in what is now in our bedroom when his wife called earlier that day to say he probably wouldn't live out the night. I gave her a message for him, that I loved him and will miss him. A few hours later he was gone.
Death is not a stranger to me. My brother died when I was 13. Grandparents died at various stages of my childhood and adulthood. Friends have died tragically; as recent as last month. It's not that dad was young, because he lived to be 75. It's also not that we talked every week. But I knew I was loved, especially because he told me whenever we spoke.
Shortly after dad died, I was opening a can of pop for a customer, when very clearly in my brain I heard my dad say "Do you clean the tops of the cans for your customers Annette? Because on TV they said you should because of the rats in the storage warehouses". Before you think I'm crazy to hear that said, I'll clarify by saying he did say it a few months prior. I hadn't thought about it in between, so was surprised at the strength of the moment that it came to my memory in such an internally audible way. His voice and mannerisms come to me so strongly sometimes.
I was in the hardware store picking up reno things. I thought "Dad will laugh when he finds out how much drywall mudding I've been doing and how it's turned out not bad." But then I realized that dad won't know.
Last Sunday, Fathers Day, was difficult for me off and on. I no longer have a dad. I love my father-in-law, and don't think I could hope for a better one. I thought briefly of talking to him about shifting to him this year, in terms of completing the adoption of him as my dad. I couldn't do it. I don't want to replace mine yet; it doesn't seem respectful. Strangely enough though, I seem to have shifted to Scott this year. I bought him a present, and spoiled him a bit. Even though he isn't my dad, he is such a great example of a good dad.
The last conversation I had with dad he told me how he laid on the living room floor carpet that afternoon, just because he wanted to. He also sat outside on the grass for a while, enjoying the outdoors. He said not to worry because he would be all right. I gave him a "reality check" about having leukemia. He said he wasn't talking about that. He told me I had my beliefs and he also believed. In his coded way he was saying he would be with God. I understood it. He was okay with dying now.
The restaurant, all consuming to both families involved, closed at the end of December. The journey toward realizing it wouldn't survive the recession was difficult, and closure was the death of a dream. At the same time, we took on a very large renovation, which also was impacted by the recession and Scott's temporary unemployment, and we ended up doing much of the work ourselves. That's why it's still going on. We've learned so much about home repair now, though.
Some relationships have changed because of not being able to keep up with them, not seeing them at church with the close of the restaurant, and just the general impact of going different directions. I hope that some of them will be back on track again soon.
November 2008 my father was diagnosed with leukemia. It was a difficult process for everyone, friends and family alike. On June 27th, 2009 he passed away. I remember I was mudding in what is now in our bedroom when his wife called earlier that day to say he probably wouldn't live out the night. I gave her a message for him, that I loved him and will miss him. A few hours later he was gone.
Death is not a stranger to me. My brother died when I was 13. Grandparents died at various stages of my childhood and adulthood. Friends have died tragically; as recent as last month. It's not that dad was young, because he lived to be 75. It's also not that we talked every week. But I knew I was loved, especially because he told me whenever we spoke.
Shortly after dad died, I was opening a can of pop for a customer, when very clearly in my brain I heard my dad say "Do you clean the tops of the cans for your customers Annette? Because on TV they said you should because of the rats in the storage warehouses". Before you think I'm crazy to hear that said, I'll clarify by saying he did say it a few months prior. I hadn't thought about it in between, so was surprised at the strength of the moment that it came to my memory in such an internally audible way. His voice and mannerisms come to me so strongly sometimes.
I was in the hardware store picking up reno things. I thought "Dad will laugh when he finds out how much drywall mudding I've been doing and how it's turned out not bad." But then I realized that dad won't know.
Last Sunday, Fathers Day, was difficult for me off and on. I no longer have a dad. I love my father-in-law, and don't think I could hope for a better one. I thought briefly of talking to him about shifting to him this year, in terms of completing the adoption of him as my dad. I couldn't do it. I don't want to replace mine yet; it doesn't seem respectful. Strangely enough though, I seem to have shifted to Scott this year. I bought him a present, and spoiled him a bit. Even though he isn't my dad, he is such a great example of a good dad.
The last conversation I had with dad he told me how he laid on the living room floor carpet that afternoon, just because he wanted to. He also sat outside on the grass for a while, enjoying the outdoors. He said not to worry because he would be all right. I gave him a "reality check" about having leukemia. He said he wasn't talking about that. He told me I had my beliefs and he also believed. In his coded way he was saying he would be with God. I understood it. He was okay with dying now.
Labels: dad, death, dying, memories, memorium
// posted by Annette @ 7:00 p.m. 