Two years ago I got the phone call that changed my life. I remember it so clearly. I was up early getting ready for work because it was a Wednesday, and I had an early meeting at school. My phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. My heart sank when I saw my mom's number flashing across the screen. I knew even before I picked up the phone why she was calling. It was an inevitable phone call. I just wasn't ready for it to come. I picked up the phone and remember how calm my mom sounded (she is always so good in emergencies) when she told me that I needed to get to the rehab facility because my dad was in the process of dying.
When someone you love is dying from cancer you learn all sorts of things that you don't really want to learn. I learned new terminology like tumor markers and what the growing numbers meant; I learned that there is a process to dying; and I learned that no matter how much warning you are given, nothing, and I mean nothing, you do can prepare you to watch someone you love go through that. It is a terrible, terrible thing to experience, and I am pretty sure that I was completely numb throughout the 22 month ordeal. . . and maybe even still partially numb two years later.
I have never seen someone die. On January 25, 2012, while holding my dad's hand, I watched him take his last breath. It was the most awful thing I have ever experienced in my life. As much as I didn't want to be there, I had a stronger desire to not let my dad pass to the next life without being there to support him. That day we were surrounded with family and friends, and even now we are so blessed because we continue to be surrounded by wonderful family and amazing friends.
I heard this quote at some point after my dad died, and it really stuck. I love my father deeply and that explains why the grief still cuts even two years later. For the most part I am fine. Holidays are rough, the anniversary of his passing is the worst, birthdays and family celebrations are challenging, but the day to day living is livable. There are times when I am still ambushed with grief - a memory, a song, a reminder, something will just trigger it. But I am getting stronger through it. On the first anniversary of his death I didn't get out of bed. This year I have a meeting for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network scheduled for today. I am going. What happens after that? We will see. It may be back to bed for me, or maybe, just maybe, I will find the strength to stay out of bed all day.
I really struggle with not having a dad. He was the person I went to when I needed anything. He did such a great job of taking care of all of us. A bible verse the Lord revealed to me within the first year of his passing gives me comfort.
This reminds me that the Lord has not forgotten about me. He is THE Father. While my dad is in Heaven in a healthy, cancer-free body worshiping before the Lord, THE Father is looking out for me and taking care of me. And while I am so brokenhearted and my spirit is crushed, I have this promise from the Lord:
What is the point to this post? I am not really sure. Although I have and am experiencing some of the darkest days of my life, I still have hope. My desire to start running and grow closer to God was in response to my grief. I have never felt an outpouring of love so strongly than I did those days surrounding my dad's death. I have kept voicemails, texts, e-mails, and cards from people that reached out to me during that time. When I need to, I go back and listen to them or read them.
Everyone grieves differently. However, I want to encourage you to not be afraid to reach out to someone who is in the midst of grief. Sure you have no idea what to say, but that doesn't matter. Rarely will a grieving person remember what you said to them (unless it was just downright offensive), however, they will remember that you were there for them. Also, don't be afraid to bring up the deceased loved one. If it is too painful a time for the person to talk about it, they will let you know. However, it is so nice being able to talk about or share a memory of your deceased love one. I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me over the past two years when someone has given me a picture of my dad, shared a memory of him, or given me something to remember him by like this precious necklace I was given at Christmas by my Uncle Stu, My Melanie, Peyton, and Preston:
Those sweet gestures help so much, and I got one just this week when a friend of mine from high school sent me this picture of my dad and me taken in 1997:
My father is on my mind daily and will forever be in my heart. He helped shape me into the person that I am today. January 25th is no longer just another day for me. It is a day that I will never forget. It is the day that I finally realized that grief is the price you pay for loving someone. We love you and miss you, Dad!
Allison, this post was beautiful. Thanks for sharing the grief quote. I'm sorry the weather forced us to cancel the PanCan meeting on Saturday and that we weren't there for you on that date. My mom's birthday was January 25, so it was a tough day for me too. In April, we'll also face the two year anniversary of her passing.
ReplyDeleteYou and I share a bond, not only in terrible cancer-related experiences, but also in milestones. Thank you for sharing this post. I hope it gave you as much comfort to write it as it did for me reading it.
Thanks for commenting, Deana! I appreciate your words more than I can adequately express. I am so thankful for your friendship!
DeleteAllison, this post was beautiful. Thanks for sharing the grief quote. I'm sorry the weather forced us to cancel the PanCan meeting on Saturday and that we weren't there for you on that date. My mom's birthday was January 25, so it was a tough day for me too. In April, we'll also face the two year anniversary of her passing.
ReplyDeleteYou and I share a bond, not only in terrible cancer-related experiences, but also in milestones. Thank you for sharing this post. I hope it gave you as much comfort to write it as it did for me reading it.
Deana