death

My Dad’s Dying & I’m Scared

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dad, circus clown

I love this photo of dad with a circus clown, we go together every year

 

It’s almost 3am and I’m wide-awake and worried. My dad’s dying. Hopefully not tonight and hopefully not tomorrow, but dad’s dying. He has congestive heart failure, which he’s had for at least the last two years; maybe longer, I can’t remember. He had his first heart attack in 2003; he’s gotten progressively worse and gone from blockages and stents to congestive heart failure paired with kidney failure. He’s been getting weaker lately, even the blood transfusion he had a few weeks ago did nothing for the weakness. The upped dosage of Lasix hasn’t helped with the water weight gain and swollen feet. He’s not doing well. I’m scared. I’m afraid he won’t make it through the night. I can’t sleep because I’m afraid the phone will ring in the middle of the night.

 

At about twenty to eleven this evening I got a call from my sister-in-law telling me my brother was on his way over to my parents’ house because dad needed help getting up and in to bed. My brother has him settled in to his bed and as comfortable as he can be right now. If he makes it through the night and he’s not better by morning there will likely be another hospitalization.

 

So for tonight we wait and we wonder; is tonight the night, will he wake up better tomorrow like he sometimes does, will he be worse, is this another month in the hospital and rehab, is it time for him to move to a home, what will tomorrow bring?

 

 

 

Grieving: Am I Doing it Wrong?

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I wasn’t prepared for this. I spent all year fearing my father would die. But I did not see this coming. Even though I knew Jenn wasn’t feeling well, even through I knew Jenn was in a lot of pain with a multitude of health problems I never thought Jenn would die. I still thought Jenn would get better and we’d go back to meeting for pizza.

Even when Jenn’s husband called me and I heard his voice on the other end of the phone I still believed he would tell me that Jenn had finally gone to the ER that they’d kept her. I heard him say the words, “Jenn died” and in the time it took to say those two words my world changed. I hung up the phone and went to pieces.

We spoke on an almost daily basis. Jenn was my breaking news friend; fires, floods, mass shootings, big storms, you name it; if it was breaking news she called. We’d discuss the incident and witness it together. The bad stuff doesn’t seem as bad or as frightening when you’ve got a familiar and friendly voice on the other end of the phone.

I still can’t believe I’m never going to hear Jenn’s voice again. I can’t believe she’s gone. We went to Jenn’s farewell ceremony last night and I couldn’t bring myself to touch the urn as we made our final pass and said our final goodbye. I can’t tell you why, but I just couldn’t.

I don’t know to feel. I had a big cry when I got off the phone with Jenn’s husband and I’ve had moments when I’ve filled up, but I’m oddly calm. That afternoon I called a friend to inform her that Jenn had died and we cried together and then that night I still had to go get dinner and then grocery shop. I called another friend to let her knew that Jenn had passed. I spoke to another friend the next morning and I did not cry along with her. I don’t know why.

I filled up in the car on the way home last night thinking how I’ll never hear Jenn’s voice again but I haven’t had that one big breakdown save for when I first found out. I always tell people that no one should tell them how to grieve and that they have to grieve in their own way and in their own time and yet I find myself thinking, “You’re doing it wrong. Why aren’t you more upset? Why aren’t you falling apart? What’s wrong with you?”

I’m sad and I definitely suffered from horrible anxiety all day yesterday desperately not wanting to go to Jenn’s farewell service wondering if I could live with myself if I did not at least make an appearance. I’m glad I did go. I didn’t sleep for the first four days after I learned Jenn died. I finally came home and took something to help me sleep and I got the first solid four hours of sleep I’ve had since Sunday.

So here I am, awake in the early morning and feeling more rested than I’ve been in the last five days, wondering, “Where do I go from here?” Jenn’s gone, our goodbyes have been said, and now all that is left is life without Jenn. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to act. I’m grateful that she’s no longer in pain, I’m grateful she’s no longer suffering, but I hate that she’s no longer part of my daily life. Who’s going to call me when there’s breaking news? Why am I not more upset? I don’t understand. What’s wrong with me? My heart is broken. Is the epic meltdown to come? Could it be that some people never have epic meltdowns?

I’ve fiercely told anyone I’ve ever known who was grieving that there is no one way to grieve and that they shouldn’t allow anyone to place a timeline on their grieving or tell them how to grieve, but yet I can’t help thinking that I am doing it wrong. Is there a wrong way to grieve? Where do I go from here?

May She Rest in Peace (heartbroken)

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Jenn's Favorite Flower

Without warning, life changes in a heartbeat.

Say I love you, say thank you, say I’m sorry, say you mean the world to me; say it to everyone, say it every day.

I answered the phone this afternoon to the words, “Jenn died.” I don’t know what to say, I’m a writer and I have no words. Jenn said, “I love you” at the end of every phone conversation. I loved her so much because she was so much not like me, totally unafraid to be anyone but herself. Jenn said what she meant and meant what she said. She was fiercely loyal, honest, funny, and true.

We lost touch for a few years, and I’m so grateful to the friend who helped her find me on Facebook. I only got to see Jenn and spend time with her a few times in the past few years, but we spoke often, sometimes daily. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

Rest in peace my friend. I’m lost without you.

A Few Thoughts on Tonight’s Glee Episode

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I watched tonight’s Glee even though I haven’t watched in a few seasons. I wanted to see how they bid farewell to Finn/Cory. Watching the show I cried like he was someone I knew personally. I had to take a shower to shake it off. Doing this gave me time to think.

Finn’s/Corey’s send off was beautiful and heartfelt and fantastic but the more I think about it the more I disagree with his sendoff. I keep thinking there are people out there who romanticize the whole idea of people mourning for them. I actually think for the Rachel Berry’s of the world this was an idealized version of their fantasies, everyone offering beautiful remembrances of them. No one once mentioned how he died or drugs.

Die young, leave a beautiful corpse…

I think the most poignant exchange of the whole night was between Coach and Puck under the tree. It’s painfully true, in 50 years no one will remember who Finn/Corey was. Just because he was once young, handsome, and talented doesn’t mean he’ll be remembered to the ages.

Maybe it’s because I’ve fought a battle with cancer and glimpsed my own mortality or maybe it’s because I’ve had some very recent all too real glimpses of my parents’ mortality but in the end, tonight’s sendoff leaves me feeling empty and disappointed.

There are so many people who were once young and beautiful fighting for their lives tonight and this person who threw it all away gets a glorious televised memorial. Dying young isn’t glamourous or romantically tragic, it’s just pitiful and stupid and for everyone who isn’t your parent, sibling, or lover there’ll be another “Quarterback” next year. The candles will be extinguished, the teddy bears and signs will be thrown away and all that will be left is nothingness.

Glee has done a wonderful job or portraying a realer reality than most high school shows but I’m not sure they lived up to their own standards tonight. They portrayed his death as tragically beautiful when in reality it was senseless and stupid.

After the Darkness, Before the Light (Deep Thoughts on Toy Test & the Meaning of Life)

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I took the above photo earlier this morning during the blue hour; it’s my favorite time of day. It’s the only time of day or night where the earth is neither fully light nor fully dark. It’s the time in between when anything is possible.

The title  —After the Darkness, Before the Light— shook loose a few things that have been rambling around my head for the past few months, which gave birth to today’s thoughts on where I’ve been and where to go from here.

Once upon a time I was the resources editor for our local parenting magazine. I spent eight years compiling the calendars and writing features about holiday and seasonal happenings, but my real love was the annual toy test feature, an 11-month labor of love. Starting in January and working straight through November I researched toys and the companies who made them, read trade publications, magazines and press releases, searched the web for the newest and coolest toys. In February I made my annual visit to Toy Fair in New York City, where I met with toy companies and wandered the floors of the Javits Center visiting booth after booth watching amazing toy demonstrations. The rest of year was spent researching and requesting and cataloging the toys we received for testing. You haven’t lived until your job includes opening endless boxes of new toys for the holiday season. The UPS man hated me, but I suspect a few of my coworkers enjoyed the endless toy deliveries. October brought about toy testing and the writing of the toy test feature.

One year we held the toy test at a local mall. This just might have been the most fun I’ve ever had while at work. We had local sports mascots and Disney Karaoke, goody bags full of neat little toys and CDs and books and assorted trinkets. We had lots and lots of toys to test and lots of little toy testers and their parents; mall patrons could test even more toys. I was so proud to have put together and pulled off such an amazing event. The publisher even had lunch brought in that next week because she was so happy with the event’s success.

I left my job in 2008 for any number of reasons but mostly because I was feeling burnt out. It’s been a little more than four years now and in that time I’ve survived six surgeries, three of them major, 32 radiation treatments, and countless medical tests.

I recently completed a journalism class and am currently taking a digital photography class at my local community college, both of which have helped to reignite my creativity.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what I want to be when I grow up and what it is that I want to do with my life and I keep coming back to my beloved toy test and a feature I created shortly before I left, Hot! Hot! Hot! It was part of the news and notes section of the magazine, it asked local children’s shop owners what was selling well and what products parents were loving and what they thought would be the big trends for the coming season. It was a tough feature to put together because print magazines have such a long lead-time and some of the information would be out of date or speculative. I always thought this would make for a fantastic web feature.

So where do I go from here? Honestly, I don’t know.

  • Is there a job out there for someone who loves to write about fun stuff like events and Halloween happenings and new products and what’s hot in stores right now?
  • Can a blog make money?
  • Can a website?
  • Do I want to work for someone else?
  • Do I want to go my own way?

I don’t know the answers to any of the above questions. I have a lot to think about.

A few weeks ago a girl I graduated high school with died after being hit by a car while out jogging. The only way I can even begin to make sense of this tragedy is to believe that her story was meant to end here, that it was somehow already completed. I don’t know. I can’t get the thought out of my head that it could very well have been my story that ended and if my story wasn’t meant to end almost three years ago, what’s my next chapter? Where do I pick up the story line? I don’t honestly know, but I can’t help feeling that I need to literally and figuratively pick up the pen and start writing my story again in order to be worthy of my story not ending on that October day.