More Dreams...

I keep having dreams about my dad which surprisingly makes me feel a little closer to him.  As I had said in my last dream post, I believe that this is one of the ways the dead can "visit" or communicate with us.  I am amazed at the messages I am getting from him.

About a week ago there he was again.  I also tried to write this one down to recall the detail although when I first woke up I had already forgotten some of it.  But luckily not the message within.  All I recall is him telling me that he stayed longer than he was supposed to , longer than his program was for.  Now I don't know how many of you believe this but I have always felt that when we come into this life we sign up beforehand for a program, meaning things we will go through both good and bad in order for our souls to learn while we are here.  I also believe in past lives, that I have been through here before.  So when he told me that, I asked him why and his response was "So you wouldn't have to be alone when you were sick."

I need to back track somewhat for you here for this to make sense.  About 6 months prior to my cancer diagnosis my dad had a brush with death.  He was rushed to the ER with a burst appendix.  They did surgery and the docs were all shocked that he pulled through.  They said they didn't have an explanation for it since he was in such bad shape.  But he did good and got better quickly.  When I was sick he was the only one in my family who was there everyday in the hospital, took me to all my chemo treatments, even offered to stay with me (to which I said "hell no")  which was so different than he was in our relationship.  He and I were always estranged but when the chips were down he somehow was there for me.  Even when I didn't want him to be.  

So this dream has left me wondering if he survived then so that he could be there for me when I had cancer.  Maybe this was him letting me know that to be true.  I would like to think that it was.  And it makes me all the more grateful to have had him there with me through it all.  

I only wish I had been able to return the favor when he was sick...

The Call...

Lou and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary this weekend.  It was one of the nicest weekends we spent together in a while.  The weather was beautiful, there was a calmness in the air around us that had been missing for so long.  It felt strange but good.  Peaceful even.  I felt we were reconnecting with each other.  We were also celebrating my 7 years as a cancer survivor that same day.  

For some reason, I had my cell phone turned off all day yesterday.  I don't think I even realized it until 8pm when I went to check it.  So when I turned it on I saw there was a new voicemail.  Thinking it must have been my mom (who is the only one usually calling me on a sunday)  I quickly checked it.  When I heard her voice I nearly dropped the phone.  It was my dad's wife sounding uncomfortable and a little crazy asking me to call her at work in the morning.  Saying that my dad was getting "bad"  wondering what the hell that meant other than "not good".  There were specific instructions to not call the house, just call on her cell.  She and I hadn't spoken in months, not since my dad was in the hospital last spring for pancreatic cancer surgery.  And prior to that we hadn't spoken in nearly 5 years.  So here she was and I knew it couldn't be good.  I tried not to worry but my anxiety had already been heightened by the fact that my dad hadn't responded to 2 emails I had written in the past 2 weeks.  And now her.

Lou asked me if I was going to call and I said I wanted to wait till the morning as specifically instructed.  And I wanted to just try and soak in the rest of our wonderful weekend.

This morning Lou got up at his usual 4:30am for work.  When he left at 5  I for some reason decided to get up which  NEVER happens!  I wondered why.  Already feeling uneasy for my upcoming phone call I tried to keep myself busy.  There I was sitting on the couch with my laptop burning a hole in thighs when I heard the phone ring at 6:30.  My heart sank into the pit of my stomach.  I ran to the phone, tripping over my pug on the way, grabbed it and heard her voice on the other end.  

"I know you don't want to talk to me, but I left the message yesterday because he had been getting bad.  Not talking so much, and I just wanted to let u know but now I am waiting for the ambulance to come.  He was sitting in his chair and just collapsed onto the floor." she said as her voice was shaking. 

I almost couldn't form words at that moment.  

"Ok, just call me when you know something."  was all I could think of to say.

As I heard the hang up click on her end I walked out to my living room and began pacing, shaking, and repeating "Shit" out loud to myself until I had lost count.  I was shaking my hands as if to bring new life to them.  My pug was staring at me looking as if he was watching a tennis match on tv as I paced back and forth in front of him.  

I heard the phone ring not 5 minutes later and I knew he was gone.  I didn't want to pick up.  I didn't want to know.  I didn't want my dad to be dead.  

"Hello"  I said, this time my voice was shaking.

"He died."  she said through her tears. 

Apparently he died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.  Its hard for me to recall what happened after that but I remember telling her I was sorry and her getting snippy that I had.  We were both crying and I said "I can't see him anymore.."  not even knowing why the hell that came out of my mouth.  She said she had to go get my half sister Marie, who is a freshman in highschool, and tell her since she just left for school before it all went down the drain. 

As I hung up the phone I didn't know what to do.  All I could do was cry.  Cry for the loss of him but also for the loss of what could never be.  For the loss of what I longed for my whole life...a father who was not a drunk when I was a child, a father who I got along with, and who made me feel loved.

As I sobbed, shook, and felt weak I thought about the time we spent together on his birthday in April.  And how all the things we said were so important.  I thought about how when I said goodbye to him that day I wondered if it was goodbye forever.  Part of me knew it was.

It was the call I dreaded for the past year.  The one I never wanted to answer.  The one I would never be ready for...

 

Say

Just the other day I was listening to the radio driving along in my car and the song "Say What You Need to Say"  by Jon Mayer came on.  Now I am not a Jon Mayer fan but this song speaks to me.  Although I haven't yet seen the movie "Bucket List"  I know what the premise is and this song is so very fitting.  

As I listened to the words I practically knew by heart I couldn't help but tear up.  I am pretty weepy these days.  Not sure if that is a good or bad thing.  Some believe that tears show our emotion and are better to get out than to stuff in.  I spent most of my life stuffing them in which I do believe in part had a huge effect on my health (that is a topic for another blog).  

With each word the tears streamed down my cheeks as I pulled up to a stop light hoping that they wouldn't cloud my vision.  I thought about what I didn't have the chance to say to Paul.  I didn't get to say "I love you"  before he left that day.  Had I known that it was the last time I would see him it would have been a no brainer.  But I didn't.  What we did say was stupid shit about who would take out the garbage.  I lived for so many years after he died with anger at myself that I didn't say what I wish I had. That I didn't say what I wanted.  I didn't say what was most important.

Now that I am faced with loss yet again I wonder if I have said all I need to say.  This time with my dad.  Pancreatic cancer is taking away his time here and although we don't know how much time is left I hope I have said what is important.  The last time I saw him was on April 4th for his 60th birthday.  I hesitated going and I hate admitting that to anyone, mostly myself.  I have struggled so much and spent many years on the couch to deal with our relationship or lack there of.  Having an alcoholic for a father was not in the plan but we don't get to choose.  I have come to realize though through his illness, through my loss, and my own bout with cancer that which is most important.  So I went for that birthday visit.  It was difficult, sad, disturbing but I was able to say what I needed to say and so did he.  I don't think either of us had planned it that way but I for one am glad for that at least.  Things that  we never said, things we never did.  

He said   "Next time around I will be a better dad"  

I said   "You did the best you could"

He said   "No I didn't, I did what was best for me"

I don't really remember what happened directly after that.  All I remember was thinking how much I will miss him.  At that moment all the crap between us didn't matter.  What did matter was making amends.  (so 12 step of me to say.  Too much al-anon)

I don't remember who hugged first, I think it was me. 

He said  "I love my little girl"

I said  "I love you too"

As I hugged him, it felt foreign and comforting at the same time.  A place it took us my whole life to get to I thought to myself as the tears began again, tears I could barely stop.  I saw them in his eyes too, a place they never were....at least not in front of me.

I hate that these days I am waiting for "the call".  The one I will get from his wife.  The one I will never be ready to answer.  The one I dread.  But at least I know that we said it all.....and that will be of some comfort to me.