One Week.

I've managed one week on this planet without my daddy.

This week has been a very strange one.

I don't really know what I expected. Because he was so sick for so long with that cruel disease, I thought I'd come to terms with his passing. But really, nothing can prepare you for the flood of feelings that losing a parent brings. Mostly, I just feel OLD.

I cried when I received the phone call. I cried because I was happy for him to be free, and I cried because it was sad that he was gone.

I had the thought that the past 5 years of my life, I worried about him every day. Advocated for him. Fought the VA for him. Paid his bills for him. Took him to neurology appointments, and eye doctor appointments, and the emergency room, and ten different stores looking for just the right kind of socks and underwear (which of course didn't exist, according to my dad). And now... there's a few more phone calls, a final goodbye at the Coast when his ashes are scattered to the sea, and then... that's it.

That's all.

And it's so weird to think about.

I still am thinking about him constantly. I have to force myself NOT to think about him constantly, because after about 4 minutes of that the tears come. Hummingbirds keep showing up. 15 minutes after he passed the first one showed up. One came up to the window when we were eating at a restaurant on Monday. We always birdwatched together. He bought me a bird guide. We took photos of bald eagles on the Mississippi river. And I really feel in my heart that my dad is still giving me birds to watch.

I took three days off work after he passed. Friday I allowed myself to really wallow, didn't get up and out of bed until Dave came home for lunch. Showered at 4pm. I allowed myself to stew, and worry, and feel sad, and stare at the ceiling, and sleep occasionally (sleep is still a problem).

Saturday I forced myself to get through the day. I got up by 9. I didn't cry until 11:57pm that night (I looked at the clock, disappointed I didn't quite make it a whole day without crying).

It comes in waves now. I'm exhausted - not quite as exhausted as I was during the "vigil", but close. My appetite is back (darnit! lol). Concentration is a problem. Not just with work, with simple things like following conversations, trying to read a book. I'm in a fog.

I am holding it together on the outside but inside I'm still screaming about my daddy.

I guess that's why they call it grieving.

Free at last.

My daddy fought hard, and was able to go Home today about 15 minutes ago.

If you'd like to honor him, I'd love for donations to go to the Lewy Body Dementia Association so we can find a cure for this awful disease. http://www.lbda.org/

Goodbye, dad. Love you.

Last Stand

Dad is making his last stand.

He's not expected to make it through the night.

I went to say goodbye today, and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

His skin was yellow, clammy, his lips and hair dry. Breathing very labored. If he wasn't sort of breathing I would have guessed he passed already.

I told him it was ok to go, that he was a good daddy, and I loved him, and I'd see him later. That sort of thing. I wanted to run out of the room screaming, and wanted to crawl into bed with him at the same time and hold him. Such a weird feeling. In the end I only stayed about 10 minutes. Got through it because of Dave.

I am ready for him to go. I alternate between feeling relief that his suffering is over, and wanting to wail at the top of my lungs.

I am glad that he's not afraid. That was my biggest fear. When he nearly died from colon cancer, my dad the "athiest" asked for a priest to pray with him and give him last rights. I'm not a priest, but I prayed for him today.

This is a very strange vigil. I just am waiting for the news. I feel so weird right now. Can't even describe.

Sleep.

So I hurt my ankle (again) like two weeks ago. Dave accidentally ran a Costco cart into my left heel and it was all jacked. After 1 1/2 weeks of pain and the external bruising fading but it still hurting, I went to the doc. She gave me Vicodin (WOO!) took X-rays (it's not broken) and told me if it wasn't better in another week to call her and she'd refer me to a podiatrist, who would likely give me steroid injections and possibly a heel insole for my shoe or whatever.

I went out to Dante's last Saturday and was in massive pain after that, then started to feel better. It was do-able, and obviously starting to heal. Then yesterday I swung around in the computer chair and knocked it, hard, on the chair. And today it hurt so bad I wanted to cry again.

I forced myself to get out of bed at 11ish (when the kids were due to leave with their mom - she was late) and Dave and I went to IHOP for brunch. I felt so rotten I came home to rest (at like 1:30) and passed out until 5. Slept hard enough that I was dreaming. Dreamed about my dad, we were at his old house in Florida looking at photo albums.

I woke up feeling better, foot was just achy when I was resting it instead of the constant pounding of the morning. Obviously sleep was what I needed.

I've been insomniac for a long time. It's progressively gotten worse - for a while it was just me not being able to fall asleep, and staring at the ceiling until 2am or so. Now, it's I fall asleep, and I wake up in the middle of the night (usually to let the dog out) and I have trouble falling asleep again. Sigh.

One thing about my foot hurting - today I really felt the need to get out and WALK somewhere, as we had great weather, and I couldn't. Maybe that will help motivate me to exercise after I'm healed and I don't want to.

Decided this weekend is my last hurrah with junk food. Stopped at Krispy Kreme, am going to eat donuts until I am sick of them. I will buy no junk at the grocery store tomorrow. I've had it.

Funk.

I'm really in a funk today. I went to the doctor the other day because my foot was hurt and not getting better. I got on the scale.

Yet another new high. I feel like a total failure.

My first instinct was to buy a new bag - new bag = fat girl crack. I may be fat and hideous but I have a GREAT bag. I resisted (thankfully) but I hate this stupid WANTING and I know it's completely tied to self esteem. I just can't seem to get motivated. Every additional pound makes me just that much more unmotivated to do anything.

I just want to crawl in my bed and hide forever. I don't know how I got so low again.

It's been a while.

My life has been very hectic. It's one of those kind of hectics that is boring to report, so therefore I haven't reported. I don't like to just bitch-blog anyway. I've been doing a lot of reading. My work still sucks, but it is slightly less sucky than it was a couple of weeks ago.

I had some major stress - I heard about a job at the non-profit I talked to a couple of years ago. They wanted to interview me. I declined. My immediate boss is fighting breast cancer, and I just can't think about bailing right now. I got a feeling in my gut that said I should pass, and so I did (this situation with my boss was one of the reasons I passed, there were a few more). I'm trying to remain positive where I am and not think about wanting to leave when thing get sucky. A lot of the time I feel frustrated because I get mixed messages from said boss (but I mean, she's not herself due to illness - what am I supposed to do, complain about it?) and spend more time redoing stuff than doing stuff. Plus there was major cold sickness in our house, and I missed quite a bit of work as I was getting over it as was the girl.

The next exciting thing coming up is on Saturday Dave and I are going to see Cash'd Out at Dante's - a Johnny Cash tribute band. I'm so excited about this, I can't wait. I hope to go to somewhere cool for dinner first.

I'm jonesing for a new bag BAD. I'm torn whether I want a Balenciaga Day or if I want a Mulberry Bayswater. They are total opposites, really - one soft and squishy, one very structured. I love them both hard. I wish I could obsess over something cheaper. Like barrettes. LMAO

Been paying off a lot of credit card debt. Won't spring for a new bag until this is all paid off, as that would be completely moronic. Been buying lots of books though, which is where all my fun money has been going.

Dad is still alive. He still has pneumonia. I went to see him on Sunday and it about did me in. Came home and bawled to Dave. I don't find meaning in this situation only more, only heartache. I don't feel guilt about praying for him to pass anymore.

I read an amazing book called "Women, Food, and God." OMG this woman so gets it. I cried reading a lot of it, reading some of my deepest, darkest secret thoughts about body image on someone else's pages. I really felt good (i/e the War is Over) for a couple of weeks, then promptly jumped back into junk food and self-hatred.

I plan on reading it again. And again. However many times it takes for me to let go and get this right. I've hated my body, and therefore myself, for the majority of my life. It takes so much energy, wasted energy. I am tired of it. Literally exhausted from it. Enough.

Life is good.

Been doing an evaluation of things. Have been cleaning out baggage (physical and emotional). Sold my beloved Chanel bags to pay off some debt we accrued - it was actually really freeing.

Been conciously eating better too. No real weight loss yet, as I haven't been completely hardcore, but about 80% better, and 100% conscious of everything I eat.

My niece is coming over to babysit tonight so we can go see MUSE!!! Excited. Now only Kings of Leon are on my "MUST SEE" list currently.

Didn't want her to feel left out on Easter, so I got her an Easter pressie too - a Coach wristlet. I bought her her first Juicy and first Chanel, so the tradition continues. :) I like having someone to spoil. She deserves it.

My Belushi/Blues Brothers obsession is full boar right now - been listening to them this afternoon.

Our anniversary was a couple of days ago. Dave sent me some beautiful flowers to work, which was awesome. A coworker remarked that she couldn't believe we'd been married only two years, as we seem so comfortable together - I told her we were together 5 now, so that's probably why. That and we've been through so much crap since we got together - his psycho ex, financial issues, my dad stress, surgeries, etc etc that is something was going to torpedo us it would have already happened.

It is so amazingly awesome to have a spouse that I not only adore more than anything, is my best friend, but I trust 100%. I had an ex-husband that I couldn't trust at all, and it devastated me when his web of lies came crashing down. I have a 0% chance of this happening to me again, and it's such a great, secure feeling. We genuinely LIKE and respect each other not only as partners but as people, and having infidelity would be impossible as a result. It hasn't always been wine and roses, but it's real, and I know in my heart he's my forever love.

<3