Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts

Monday, April 25, 2016

Approaching two years without you

Hi Dad,

This time of year just sucks.  It will always suck.  As the buds on trees slowly emerge.  As the ground thaws and the birds speak up.  These things will always remind me of the saddest, scariest, most awful day of my life.  The day you left us.  I still find it hard to navigate without you.  I wish you were here to see so many things, to talk about life, to share experiences.  I need your advice on a couple things dad, but you aren't here to talk to anymore.  I need to hear your voice.  I need to feel the comfort that came with being beside you.  Sometimes I can't find it.  I even find it hard to remember and I feel so alone.

Yes, for the most part, I am ok.  We are all ok.  But somedays I am not ok.  Today is one of those days.

What is it like wherever you are?  Are you comfortable and happy?  Are you peaceful and calm?  Are you seeing everything that is happening here in my life?  Do you see how Mateo is these days? What do you think?  Is he going to be ok?  What do you think is going on?  Is he just being a regular little boy, testing my limits?  Or is something wrong?  I would really love to hear what you think.  I know you would just take him to the park and play catch with him and he would be so happy.  You would take away his burdens, his worries, his troubles.  You would let him just be a boy, playing ball and goofing around.  You would remind him that it is important to be good.  You would joke around with him and trick him into doing the right thing.  He looked up to you. He loved hanging out with you.  You were one person who just played ... just let him be .... it was so easy and simple and nice.

Life is overwhelming me these days.  I feel like I am drowning slowly and can't get my head above water.  I am scared and lonely and sad.  Hopefully it is just today .... and the pain will pass again.

May 8th approaches.  Mother's day.  I am dreading it.  It never really gets any easier.

All I hope is that you are at peace.  You deserve that.
I miss you more than I would ever be able to express.  It is a deep wound that will never heal.

Love your sunshine ... not so sunny today :-(


Thursday, May 7, 2015

I am ok

Hi Dad,

How is it possible that I have navigated this world for one whole year without you?  Tomorrow, it will be 365 days since you walked on this earth as my dad.  One year since you got out of bed to face another day with hip pain and foot pain and that damn diabetes.  Another winter came and went even though you weren't here.  I was glad you didn't need to shovel snow or walk the dog in the frigid temperatures.  But holy crap, do I ever miss you!  It has been a hell of a difficult year.  I needed you many, many times.  I wanted to call you on a million different occasions.  I longed to hear your comforting, calm and most loving voice telling me to give you a call if I needed anything.  I walk through life without the bullet proof vest I always had.  I swim without a life jacket and often feel like I was am driving without a seat belt.  I don't actually drive without a seat belt, of course Dad .... I would never do that.

If there is one thing I have learned it is that I can cope with way more shit than I ever thought I would be able to cope with.  I am way stronger than I thought I was.  I told Maelyn the other day ... "Look at us!  One year without Grandpa and we are ok!".  It was an expression of complete shock and true gratitude, actually.  I never thought I could live without my dad.  I really didn't.  I always knew I would have to one day but I couldn't even fathom how that would be possible.  But it is.  And I am ok, Dad.  I am ok without you .... because of you.  You taught me so much.  So much of which seemed to be hidden somewhere in my unconscious and has emerged as needed over the past year.  I see the world a bit differently since you died.  I see it sort of through your eyes.  You had an inherent sense of kindness and trust of people.  Not naïve - in fact, just the opposite.  You knew something that not everyone knows.  You saw people for who they are and treated them with simple kindness and respect they deserved.  It was all so natural and easy with you.  You didn't need to advertise kindness or tell anyone else how to live.  You just lived it.  I am not even sure you knew how good you were ... which was maybe what was so amazing about you.


So, we made it through all the "firsts" ... but I am not convinced the seconds will be any easier.  I have given up on waiting for it to be better.  Now, I accept that things will never again be the same.  My world changed on May 8th, 2014.  I lost part of my comfort zone and safety net.  I lost the constant pride and support you so easily gave me all the time.  I lost the one person in the world I felt I could count on one hundred and fifty percent no matter what.  But I slowly gained a whole lot of strength over the year and that sustains me now.  You, Dad, transitioned from being physically in my life, to being my strength and guide in life.  So I am ok.  Some days are still brutally difficult but they are really more moments than days now.  And I am ok.

Love your sunshine


Tuesday, November 4, 2014

6 months later ....

Hi Dad,

We are approaching the 6 month mark of living without you and I can say that it still sucks, a lot.  I can't believe that I haven't seen you, or enjoyed a conversation with you in 6 months.  I have meagrely navigated life without my beacon that always flashed quietly and steadily in the distance of my daily life.  You were always there when I needed you.  Now, there is a vacancy that causes sadness, stress, emptiness, loneliness, some anxiety and a great deal of pain. 

I don't blog very often.  Because it takes me to a very sad and painful place that I need to have the time and emotional capacity to handle.  And life is just too busy and demanding to be able to do that very often.  The kids keep me busy.  Mateo is struggling a bit with his behaviour at school.  He has been less than respectful and well-behaved these past months.  He has made bad decisions that land him in the principals office.  We worry about him and I often wish you were here to talk to him.  He has lost one of the most wonderful role models a little boy could ever have.  And he is sad.  He misses his Grandpa every day.  He talks about you every day.  He still cries a lot.

I talk to him about integrity and honor.  I tell him that those are the things that Grandpa had and that we must all live up to what he was and what he taught us to be.  He seems to understand and some days I think he is really trying. I don't really worry for his long term well being because I think he does have a good heart and will find his way.  He will always hold his memories of you close to his heart.  He talks about when you 'babysat' him on a sick day, just one month before you died.  He wasn't really that sick and you spent the day with him and made him do some 'homework' that you prepared for him.  While Mateo pretended to think it was unfair, I know he actually enjoyed your pseudo-strict act with him.   That day, you made him lunch and told him stories of your days in the RCMP over lunch.  You told him about the criminals and the prison at the police station and he listened so intently that he had nightmares that night.  That was you Dad, a devoted Grandpa, a passionate ex-RCMP officer, a man of true integrity and honor.

How lucky we all were to call you our own dad, grandpa, husband, father-in-law.  You taught us that if you live your life well, you will live on forever.
 
I am grateful for you.  You made me happy.  You still nourish my soul, Dad, and guide me through life by the lessons you taught me, the way you lived, the man you were.
 
I love you and miss you so much, still, 6 months later.
 
Love your sunshine.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

My 'Dad' running playlist

Hi Dad,

I know you would be a bit disappointed to hear that I quit teaching Zumba when you died.  You were so supportive of me teaching Zumba .... but well, you were supportive of everything I did.  But you see, Zumba requires a lot of positive, happy, energy.  And I have not had much of that since you left.  I can report now that I am doing ok - most days.  I miss you every single day and think about you all the time but I can usually get through a day without tears now.  Most days.  But back to Zumba - that is done for me.  I don't think I will ever be the happy, carefree, dancing soul I once was.  But that is ok.  After you left, I started running.  Yes.  Me.  As you know, I am no runner.  But I found it to be a great release of negative energy, anger, sadness ... all those things that I feel so much more now.  I started with running one minute and walking one minute.  I found I could go a long way on that rhythm.  And now ... get this .... I can actually run about 6.5 km non-stop ... most days :-)

You are so with me when I am running, Dad.  I feel you and ... I see you.  Down by the river, I often see this Great Blue Heron and somehow, ridiculous as it sounds, I think it is you.  You visit me on my run every once in a while and it makes me cry and smile at the same time.  I caught a photo of you one morning ....


But what I really wanted to tell you about is my running music playlist.  I listen to the same songs every run and each one speaks to me in a special way.  So here they are:

Track 1:  Everybody has a story by Amanda Marshall

This one just reminds me that I am not the only one who is suffering.

"Everybody's got a story that will break your heart"

My heart is broken.   But I am not alone.  That is what I take from this song.

Track 2:  I Run for Life by Melissa Etheridge

I started listening to this one back in 2006 when you were first diagnosed with Prostate cancer.  I started running the father's day 5k run back then and did it every year (except 2007) up until this past year after you died.  But the song still lifts me up and reminds me why I run ....

"I run for hope, I run to feel, I run for the truth, for all that real ...."

The song starts out saying "It's been years since they told me about it" ....

I remember that day sitting at the kitchen table in your house and mom telling me that "Dad has cancer".  I felt like I would die myself if I lost you.  Somehow, I was given another 8 years with you after that .... something I am so grateful for.  Someday it will be years since they told me about it ... when they said those horrible words to me "I'm sorry, he is gone".  I will never be the same again but hopefully it won't be as painful someday ... someday.

Track 3:  Non siamo soli by Eros Ramazziotti and Ricky Martin

Ok, that is just a fun, happy, song by two cute gay guys.    It still makes me feel like dancing, even in my sadness.

Track 4:  Ni Una Sola Palabra by Paulina Rubio

Another fun one.  But this one brings me right back to Madrid in 2007-2008 when we lived there and you and mom came to visit.  That was a difficult year and I know that trip was painful for you to make.  You hated travelling and had zero desire to go to Spain.  But you did it for me and it meant so much.  I am not sure you ever knew how much it meant to me, actually.

Track 5:  December, 1963 (Oh, what a night) by The Four Seasons

This one make s me imagine you and mom as young adults, meeting for the first time, falling in love, living a carefree, happy life together with so much future ahead of you.  It is yours and moms 'era' and I imagine you two laughing, dancing and basking in the possibilities of your future. 

Track 6:  Inner Ninja by Classified

The run is usually getting harder by now and this song gets me going.  It talks about hard times and rising above it all.  It is a bit gangster ... but you know me .... :-)

"Hey yo, I've been high and I've been real low
I've been beaten and broken but I healed though
So many ups and downs, roughed up and clowned
We all got problems, but we deal though
I'm tryin' to do better now, find my inner peace
Learn my art form, and find my inner Chi
When my backs on the wall, I don't freeze up
Nah, I find my inner strength and I re-up
Here we go, I know I've never been the smartest or wisest
But I realize what it takes
Never dwell in the dark cause the sun always rises
But gotta make it to the next day
It's a feeling that you get in your lungs when you run
Like you're runnin' outta air and your breath won't come
And you (uh) wheezin', gotta keep it movin'
Find that extra (uhn) and push your way through it"


Track 7:  Shine a Light by Jeremy Fisher

This one just lets me know that you are near, and that you will shine your light on me when I need it.  It reminds me that I am starting over.  That life is completely different now and that I sometimes don't even know what I am looking for.  But you ... shine a little light when I need it the most.

"How will you find what you've been lookin' for
If it's nothing that you've seen before
How will you find what you've been lookin' for
If you're starting it over
Starting it over again"


Track 8:  Imma Be Cool by Cody Simpson

Ah, a teeny-bopper track.  How could I not have one of these?  But this one gets to me because it is so Maelyn and it makes me feel close to her when I am running.  You would love to hear her singing this to herself in her room.  She is cool, Dad.

Track 9:  Get out the map by the Indigo Girls

So, here is why this one is in there.   As you know, I was an anxious home-body of a child.  I got homesick just going to school each day.  The reason for that is because you and mom made home such a comfortable, happy, supportive, safe place.  So it is your fault.  But then, who would have thought it, but off I went to Africa, South America, China etc. ..... once I became an adult.  And you and mom were again, so supportive.  How blessed I was.  Really.

This song reminds me of that, and also reminds me that I need to be that for Maelyn and Mateo.  I hope they go off and see the world, take risks and find their true selves.  Just like you let me do.

Track 10: O-O-H Child by The Five Stairsteps

I am usually very tired by this time.  Sometimes teary too.  And I just need to be told that it will get better.  When I first heard this song after you left, I couldn't stop crying.  I think I didn't believe that things could ever really get better.  But just a couple days ago, when I got to this song I actually thought to myself "ok, yes, things are getting a little easier".  So there is hope.

"Ooh-oo child
Things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child
Things'll get brighter
Ooh-oo child
Things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child
Things'll get brighter

Some day, yeah
We'll get it together and we'll get it all done
Some day
When your head is much lighter
Some day, yeah
We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Some day
When the world is much brighter"


Track 11:  I'm Alright by Kenny Loggins

Then this one comes on and I am pumped to keep going and finish the run.  I don't think there is a song that makes me want to dance as much as this one.  It brings me back to 1996 when I moved out of your house to live with Alison.  What a time of transition that was.  She introduced me to Kenny Loggins and this song.  We danced around our little apartment many, many a day.

"I'm alright.  Nobody worry 'bout me ....."

Track 12:  Summertime of our lives by Cody Simpson

Another Cody Simpson.  Maelyn sang this song a lot after you died.  She felt the words spoke to her.  Even though it is a teenage love song, she would sing it to you with modified words to say:

Wherever you are, no matter how far, I promise that I won't give up on you.
They say out of sight, means out of mind but they couldn't be farther from the truth.
Because I still love you ........ Grandpa

By this time, I am usually nearing the end of the run.

Track 12:  Conviction of the Heart by Kenny Loggins

Yes, that's right.  Another Kenny Loggins.  But it gets me through ....

"One with the Earth, with the sky
I believe we'll survive
If we only try ...."



So that is my dad running playlist.  It is very personal and I am quite sure it would not speak to anyone else the way it speaks to me.  I makes me feel close to you, thinking positively and moving towards a place of healing.  So dad, I will keep running and I will keep an eye out for you each time.

I miss you so much.

Love,
your sunshine




Wednesday, August 27, 2014

"What will it be without you"

 
Dear Dad,
 
Mateo misses you.  He wrote this letter to you and said he was going to put it out by the bird feeder and that you would answer him.  It is so hard to lose such an incredible grandfather, role model, protector .... someone who gave so much unconditional love.  He has wonderful memories with you.  It is just that none of us understand "how it will be without you".  Not yet anyway.
 
Love your sunshine.
xo
 
 
Dear Grandpa,
 
If you get it when I pray
If you see me from up there
I miss you and I love you
You loved me and cared about me
What will it be without you?
 
 
 


Coming home

Hi Dad,

We got home from our European vacation about 10 days ago and I must say, I am glad to be home.  Being on holiday was surprisingly miserable for me.  Because I thought of you constantly.  And cried a lot.

Now, I am back home, back to work, back to the routine of life and keeping busy.  Just the way I like it.  Just the way you liked it too.  You were not a traveller.  No desire to be anywhere other than in your home, in your neighbourhood, in your city, with your family.  When I reflect on that now, I think you must have been incredibly at peace with your life.  You were not someone to search for things.  You didn't need adventure and new sights and sounds all the time.

I think that is awesome.  In the real and literal sense of the word ... awesome.  It is rare and unique and undervalued and special.

I learned so much from you, Dad.  A lot of which I am learning now, after you are gone.

I miss you so much.  I think of you a million times a day and just want to pick up the phone and call you.  I want to tell you about my day.  I want to tell you about my experiences and hear the pride and interest in your voice. 

I want to be home.  I mean, home in my heart.  I am in a foreign place as I walk through the world without you.  Nothing feels right or comfortable without you.

I hear that time heals.  So I will wait.

I love you, Dad.
Your sunshine
xo

Saturday, August 9, 2014

How did you manage?

Dear Dad,

I think back on your life before I was part of it. You told me some stories when I'd ask. I learned about events and some people. But I never asked how you managed it all.  How did you manage the loss of your mother and father when you were just in your twenties, a newly wed and young Mountie starting a family of your own?  I have never heard a single word of you losing it or getting depressed or finding it hard to cope. And I am sure it was hard to cope. I think that was also around the same time you were diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes. And only a few years earlier, your friend and colleague was shot on duty - in a situation that could easily have been you.  How much can a person handle?  I am barely handling the loss of you from my world.  How did you do it?

I never really knew my grandparents - your mom and dad. But I know they were good people. Kind, loving, supportive, family people. And I know they did a hell of a job raising you to be the person you were. In a time that was certainly more difficult than I have ever known. 

Maybe my generation is just weak.  What do you think?  I wish you were here to have this conversation. But if I imagine it in my head, I think you would brush things off with the attitude of you just did what you had to do at the time. That was you. Never complaining about the struggle. A just-do-it kind of man. 

And you were never the kind of person to complain about "kids these days" either. You never made my brother and I feel ungrateful or anything less than exceptional actually. Man, we were so lucky to have you as our dad. 

I think the diabetes was the hardest thing for you to accept in your 71 years. What I blow that must have been when they told you and mom 46 years ago. It was a huge part of our family life. It was hard on all of us. My childhood was shadowed with fear of losing you to this stupid disease. I hated, more than anything, when you would have an insulin reaction. It scared me because you were so different when you were in a reaction. You could get angry and confused and sometimes you looked at me and it was as if you didn't recognize me. But talk about doing what you have to do to survive the struggle. We all did what we had to do because we loved you so much. And I believe you did what you had to do because you loved us. I will always be grateful for the way you managed your disease. You worked hard to stay healthy and as a result, we had you around for a long time - not long enough but still..... My kids were able to know their Grandpa and build important memories. 

All because of the way you managed life. With honour, dutifulness, and integrity.  Without complaint or self-pity. You were never a victim, Dad.  You lived your life until your last day. 

You taught me so much. 

Love your sunshine 

    My mom and dad on their wedding day, with my dad's parents. October 1967



Friday, August 8, 2014

Hey Dad, guess what I saw?



Dear Dad,

We are here in Germany on our Europen family summer holiday. I'd like to say we are having a great time but I am not. There is no such thing as a great time for me anymore, since you left the world. I can only hope that someday there will be something that resembles a great time but for now, I just exist moment to moment, wondering how the hell I will ever be happy again.

Enough gloom though. Every single day I see a dozen things I want to tell you about. In a split second I think about picking up the phone to call you .... then I remember you are gone and I will never again get to have those casual, easy chats with you.  I will never get to tell you about these things I saw in Germany ....

A robotic lawn mower. You would have thought it was so neat, and perhaps your answer to the over-sized lawn that was becoming too much for you to manage. 


Then there was this super cool hybrid motorcycle-scooter-car thing called a MonoTracer. It looks like a covered motorcycle with a front and back seat and it has retractable side wheels that come down when the vehicle stops. We passed one on the street and the kids and I immediately thought of you. It would have been a great topic of conversation with you. I would have looked it up on-line and showed you pictures and you would have smiled with great interest. You were always interested in what was next in the world of cars. 



But I know you loved bikes as much as cars. So yesterday I saw folks from the Smart Car company promoting the Smart Bike. Again, I wanted to talk to you about these. What would you think?  They look pretty sleek but I think they are expensive.



I know you didn't like to travel.  Your diabetes was more difficult to manage when you were out of your routine, especially if it involved different time zones. But, if you were ever to travel to Europe, I know Germeny would be a country you'd like. It is so organized and clean. Right up your alley. 

We would have enjoyed a German beer or two together, Dad. It would have been great. 

Now I need to get used to thinking about how great it could've been.  That sucks.

Love your sunshine