Some days, like today, I feel like the world is caving in around me. All of my progress seems to run away and I’m left empty and tired. Sleeping never helps, although it can be a good escape. It’s a good escape if my dreams stray from turning into nightmares that wake me in a cold, abrupt, sweat. Tears wash my mascara onto my acne-prone cheeks as I sit, in the fetal position, in my bathroom floor. I don’t know why, but that’s always seemed like the best place to cry, especially on a pile of dirty towels I’ve let accumulate over the week. Sometimes, I can hear his voice in my head so perfectly that it’s like he’s whispering in my ear; some days, like today, I have to strain to hear, “I love you too, sweetheart.” That’s my only comfort.. that, and remembering his smile. Some days, like today, I feel like he should still be here; I yearn to put my head on his left shoulder and smell his comforting and familiar scent. He’d wrap his arms around me and I’d tell him how much I love him; he’d tell me the same in return. I’d give anything for one more hug, although I know one more would never be enough. Some days, unlike today, I feel like he’s been gone an eternity. Those days are a little easier, though not much. Even on those days, it’s usually easy to hear his voice in my head. Today, I’m sad, empty, broken, and lost. Tomorrow, who knows. I’ll end my day missing you, only to wake up the same; maybe tomorrow will be an easier kind of pain.
I’ve always believed in the supernatural. I’ve never seen a spirit, but I’ve believed those who say they have. Psychics who can talk to the dead seem convincing, knowing things that seem to prove their authenticity.
I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life. I always viewed the afterlife as, in some way, overlapping life here on earth. Up until now, I’ve never felt so confined. For the first time since my dad’s death, I’m actually realizing that he’s gone. He is actually gone.
I’ve cried until my insides ached. I have begged my dad to let me know he is okay. I’ve begged him to show me a sign, to flicker a light, to say something.. but he hasn’t. I’ve asked God why; why do other people claim to have seen loved ones, talk with them, feel their hands around them, and I get nothing? My dad was ALWAYS there when I needed him, but not now. I begged and begged with the deepest parts of me; I told my dad that I needed to know that he is okay. If he heard me and saw my pain, why couldn’t he show me? I know if he heard me, and was able, that he would. If others can have closure, why can’t I? Is everyone else just lying to themselves as a coping mechanism? Can the dead really communicate with us? I don’t know. All I know is that my dad is gone and I’m not okay.
My mind no longer sees earth and ‘Heaven’ as connected. I see an impenetrable wall around everything that I know. I feel closed off and scared. Death stole my father and I don’t know where it took him. The past twenty-four years of my life, I’ve had my dad. Suddenly, I’m supposed to just be okay without him? I’m supposed to just accept that he’s gone with no explanation as to where he went? I’m supposed to accept that other people have talked to or seen their passed loved ones, but I haven’t? Call me selfish, but I need to have that same experience. If I can’t know that my dad is okay, then no one else should be able to have the comfort of knowing their loved ones are okay. Screw that and screw everyone else.
Until I have answers, and proof, then I’m going to be angry. I’m angry that this life is so cruel and it doesn’t get any better. We are all going to die in the end, but to go where? To just disappear? We spend our life being the best we can, raising a family, comforting friends, being charitable, making memories, spreading love, creating an identity for ourselves. How can losing the last bit of air in our lungs just take all of that away? Our body is merely a shell for everything that lies within us, so where do we go? Where does the deepest and most beautiful parts of us go? I can’t make myself believe that we just disappear into nothing. My father can’t just vanish; he meant too much to just go away forever.
How am I supposed to be okay without knowing that he is okay?
A small step in the right direction is still a step in the right direction. I have to keep reminding myself of that, every day. I am enough. I don’t owe anyone anything. The only opinion that matters is my own. Loving myself is more than enough. Sleeping alone isn’t so bad. Always look at things from different perspectives. A day without talking is okay. Not knowing every single detail is perfectly acceptable. It’s okay to trust. It’s okay not to trust. Never apologize for sharing your feelings, even if they are irrational. Always be honest. Don’t apologize for being who you are; instead, learn to love who you are. Have control over your thoughts. Be playful. Accept that some people won’t like you. Worrying is normal. Accept that you won’t like some people. Your feelings are valid. If you care for someone, let them know. If you aren’t happy, then make yourself happy. Be open minded. Do things that make you happy on a daily basis. Saying no is okay; saying no without an explanation is okay. Know what your morals are, and don’t break them. Have hope. Never allow yourself to put in all the effort with nothing in return. Don’t be judgmental. Practice being compassionate. Expectations lead to disappointments; life is short and unpredictable, so avoid being disappointed. Be nice to people. Give yourself compliments. Know that nothing is concrete. If you are hurt, no one else can tell you that you aren’t. Find some sort of beauty in every one and every thing. Look to the past for advice. Say please and thank you. Mental illnesses aren’t anything to be ashamed of. Learn to listen to others and understand their feelings. Know that it’s okay to be depressed sometimes, as long as you pick yourself back up. Things can, and often do, change. Learn to communicate your feelings in a healthy way. Be faithful to yourself. Realize that everything isn’t as it seems. Don’t regret anything. Sometimes things fall apart, and that’s okay; pick yourself back up and try again. Know what triggers your anxiety. Treat life as if it is a magnificent journey. Know that arguments aren’t the end of the world. Sometimes, being selfish is necessary. Stop being so reliant on social media and text messaging. Know when to let go; know when to hold on. If you’re lonely, talk to God. Instagram likes shouldn’t give you a sense of self worth. Avoid going to sleep angry. Occasionally being lazy is alright. Have fun without spending money. Keep a journal throughout your lifetime. Use your talents. Yell when it’s necessary. Be charitable. Don’t put yourself down. Learn to truly laugh and find yourself being caught in a moment where you are overcome with happiness. Crying does not make you weak. Be selfless when you can. Don’t hold grudges. Smile. Have faith in something bigger than yourself. Don’t bottle up your emotions. Be environmentally friendly. Set goals for yourself that are attainable. Mental health is just as important as physical health. Only surround yourself with people who appreciate who you truly are and uplift you. Dress up for yourself. Be considerate. Enjoy nature. Create intimate and special relationships with as many people as you can. Talk to strangers; smile at strangers. Making someone else happy will make you happy in return. Most importantly, always be yourself. Spend each day learning who you are.
I once told a friend years ago that if there are two pieces of pizza left, I’ll take the smaller one. She said, “Misty, no one is going to get mad at you for taking the damn larger piece of pizza.” It’s okay to take the larger slice of pizza.
My father passed away on December 1, 2015 at 1:38pm only a moment after I had read “My sweet father,” aloud; my mother was holding his left hand, and I was holding his right. He went peacefully with the two people who meant the most to him, his “girls.”
Over a week later.. This still isn’t real. I built a very strong emotional wall while caring for my father the last month and a half of his life; I had to focus 100% on his needs and had no time or energy to deal with my emotions on the matter. That wall is refusing to come down. Saying “your father is dead” is no different than saying “the sky is purple;” it isn’t real. I don’t believe you. My dad can’t be dead, because I’m only 24. I need him. He has to give the guy of my dreams permission to ask my hand in marriage. He has to walk me down the isle. He has to see me graduate from college. He has to see me be successful. He has to remind me to rotate my tires and change fluids that I don’t even know exist. He has to meet his future grandchild. He has to tell me that he loves me and that he’s proud of me. He has to fuss at me for being stubborn. He has to tell me not to get anymore tattoos. He has too much left to do.. He can’t be gone.
I need you, daddy.
It’s approaching midnight, and my eyes are heavy from crying. My dad has slept all day today, being woken every couple hours to see if he will eat or drink. He won’t eat, but he will drink some. He always wants to eat, so this is new; this is scary.
Today was the beginning of his hospice care; my mother and I sat down with his new nurse and learned about the program and how they are different from home health. Hospice is a lot more help, in all aspects; my father’s care now focuses on making sure he is comfortable, rather than trying to heal him (because he’s past that point). His medications were changed around, as most the ones he took no longer do him any good; pain medication and a mood stabilizer (for anxiety and agitation) were added. A nurse will be available for use 24/7 if needed, but otherwise, one will come by the house a couple times a week. A bath aide will also be here several times a week to help my mother and I. There are also social workers, volunteers, and chaplains available for us to use. Hospice provides physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual support for the patient and for the family.
As for my father, his new nurse said that we will be able to tell a lot within the next few days. If he wakes up tomorrow and is willing to eat and drink, then wonderful. If not, then we need to prepare ourselves for the worst. It could be just a bad couple of days, but then it could also be nearing the end. With this disease, it’s hard to tell; every day can be drastically different.
My father hasn’t been as responsive as usual today; out of the twenty times I’ve told him “I love you,” he may have responded twice. His eyes stayed closed even when taking a drink or feeling my hand on his face. He’s coughing and has a rattle in the back of his throat. His hands shake and he fiddles with the covers around him. His blood sugar has been low all day, whereas it’s usually high; tonight is the first night in years that we haven’t given him insulin.
I pray that he is peaceful and not in pain. I pray that he knows how much my mother and I love him. I am overwhelmed with emotions ranging from sad to angry; I’m not prepared to lose my father and I’m angry that I’m going through this. I’m angry that my mother is going through this. I’m angry that my father has to end his life in this condition. No one should have to go through this. Losing parts of a loved one day after day is a terrible sadness and requires a lot of strength.
I hope and pray that tomorrow will bring my sweet daddy a better day. I hope I can see his beautiful eyes and radiant smile and hear his contagious laugh. I always pray that he continues to know who me and my mother are.
I will update tomorrow on his condition. Thanks to everyone who has kept my family in your thoughts and prayers. If you are in need of prayers, please comment on this post and I will keep you in my thoughts.
Sadness flows through my veins-
to what pleasure do I owe this pain?
Up and down my breathing goes
Sometimes gasping for air
Fleeing from what I don’t want to know
Eyes glazed into a stare
My highs are high, my lows are low