September 9, 2017

My heart has broken many times in the past year and a quarter, sometimes for myself, most of the time for my children.   The little (and big) breaks come when something occurs that Greg would have enjoyed, but most of the time, they happen when I realize that one or more of my kids won’t get to experience a significant event with their dad.

And last night, during a very happy celebration, the worst break yet happened.  We attended the wedding of a very dear friend of Kaitlyn’s, our next door neighbor for 27 years.  The bride was beautiful, the groom handsome, the families blending together in a wonderful way.  It was all great until…

The father/daughter dance.  It hit me hard that Kaitlyn, who loved her daddy so very much, will not get to experience that.  I did OK watching the dance, but when it was over, Kaitlyn made her way over to our table, in tears.  My heart shattered into so many pieces and all I could do was hold her.  I couldn’t speak, I just couldn’t offer her any words of encouragement or consolation.  I didn’t have them, still don’t.  I knew this would happen, especially after I burst into tears on my way to work the other day.  The song “I Loved Her First” by Heartland started playing on the radio and I actually listened to the words.  It is the absolutely perfect Father/Daughter dance song. It hurts so much to think about it.  It is nearly beyond my ability to bear because I cannot fix this for Kaitlyn.  I cannot make her Father/Daughter dance happen.

I think it helps in a small way to know that Greg loved Daniel like a son and would have been so happy that they are (finally) getting married.  He would have adored Lily and the new baby because he really did love babies (and they loved him). He would have cried during the wedding and during the dance because he was a big old softie and Kaitlyn was his baby girl. I can hope that he is watching over us and is happy.  And that helps a bit.

I know my boys will step up and stand in for their dad.  They are kind, compassionate men who really love their sister and only want her to be happy. But it won’t be the same. It can’t be. Life will go on. Kaitlyn will have a beautiful wedding, we will laugh and dance and have fun. Our family and Daniel’s will blend together in a beautiful way. But there will always be a piece missing, a touch of sadness in an otherwise happy life. 

And so I’ll cry and cry.  And then I will find the strength to get through this.  But don’t ask me to talk about it yet.  I can’t do it without crying.  Some day, maybe I will.  But it’s OK if I can’t.  And I’m OK nearly all of the time. I’ve made my new normal work for me.  I’m mostly happy.  But sometimes, I just need to be sad.  Don’t worry, I won’t wallow.  I will just move through it and go on.  I love my family and my friends and (usually) my dogs and cat. Life goes on, I’ll go on. We weren’t promised perfect, we weren’t promised forever.

Why today?

I feel so lost today.  I don’t know why today, versus any other day.  It’s not the anniversary of anything, not the “first” or the “last” of any special event. But, I just feel sad and weepy.  Maybe because it’s the first time one of my kids must celebrate their birthday without their dad.  Maybe because it’s Christmas and I don’t have anyone to help me decorate the tree or to tell me how good (or bad) it looks.  I’m really feeling sorry for myself today.  It serves no purpose to feel this way, I keep telling myself.  But I just can’t stop it.

I heard my mom’s favorite Christmas song today.  It made me cry.  And I felt so silly, sitting in my car with tears rolling down my face.  It’s not my first Christmas without her, but it’s the first one where I really, REALLY need to talk to her.  And I can’t.  And I am frustrated, angry and heartbroken.

I saw a commercial for a really cool tool from Sears.  And I thought “I should buy that for Greg” and remembered he isn’t here to enjoy receiving new tools.  He never even opened the ones he got last year for Christmas.  They are sitting in his room, a sad reminder of what I’ve lost.

So tomorrow, I’ll pick myself back up, finish the tree.  On Saturday and Sunday, I’ll spend time with my family, laughing and maybe a few tears.   And the world will go on. But for today, I’ll just cry.

Musings for today

I smelled you the other day.  Sounds weird to say, but it is the truth.  For nearly 3 months, I have been wanting to see you again, to touch you again.  I have never wished so hard to be haunted by a ghost in my life. But then I smelled you.

Everyone has their own particular scent.  Yours is a combination of gasoline, grease, and cigarette smoke…with some other interesting undernotes that defy description.  I just know it was you. And it made me wonder…

Was it just a sensory memory? I should have smelled you at that spot at that time.  It was between 7:30 and 8 am on a workday.  You would have just passed through that space on your way to work. Was it the spectre of you, going about his daily business?

I don’t know what it was. It made me sad, it made me happy, it made me confused and angry. I didn’t get a chance to say a proper farewell, you were gone before I could. For the last quarter of a year, I’ve run the gamut of emotions (sometimes all in one day or even one hour). I’ve held it together pretty well, I think. And then I smelled you.

I just stood there, eyes closed, inhaling deeply, thinking “Bye Babe, have a great day”. I was lost in the moment for just a moment. Then I opened my eyes and reality came crashing back. The scent was gone and time started again.

Life goes on. I miss you. Come back and let me smell you again.

My Life Interrupted

My Disney posts got interrupted by life.  Greg's infection turned out to be Stage IIIb non-small cell lung cancer.  Throughout the winter and into the spring, our lives revolved around Chemo, Radiation and doctor visits. He responded well to treatment. Except for the last round of Chemo...that really kicked his butt.  He lost energy and most of his hair.  Luckily, we were able to spend some time in Florida at our friends' condo and he could relax and recuperate.

After we returned, we saw the doctor and she agreed that another round of chemo was unnecessary and instructed Greg to get a scan in May to see where we were.  

Greg had a scan on May 17. And an appointment for May 23 was set to see the doctor.  He was feeling so much better, his energy level was getting better every day, his hair was growing back. He had never stopped working throughout all of this and he told me every night that work was getting back to normal for him.  Everything was looking so good.  We were feeling positive and hopeful for the first time in months.

May 20 was a Friday.  The weather had been nice all day, Greg had come home in a good mood.  He decided he wanted pizza, and I complained a bit (as I don't really care for pizza) but caved.  As always, whatever he wanted to eat, I would get him, whether I liked it or not!  I ordered the pizza and said I would go get it.  "No," he said, "I need to get gas in the car and ice (our ice machine was broken at the time), so I'll go".  "Cool..." And that was the last time I talked to him.

About 30 minutes later, just as I was starting to get nervous, my phone rang. And my heart sank. It was the pizza parlor.  "Is this Jacqui?" the girl on the line asked.  I said it was.  She asked if I had ordered a pizza and sent someone to get it.  I said I had, my husband. She then stated "The paramedic wants to talk to you".  Never has a statement caused me so much fear. I was told to come up to the pizza parlor immediately and asked if my husband had a DNR or any advance directives.  I flew to my car, called my friend Robin along the way. I jumped out of my car, but the paramedics and police officers would not let me near my husband, who was lying on the ground next to our car. I spoke to them, advised no DNR, no advance directives...they worked on him for a very long time, transported him to the hospital, where they worked on him for about an hour.  He never regained consciousness, never again breathed on his own.  He didn't die alone, though.  A passerby, on her way to work, saw him collapse in the parking lot, did a U-Turn and tried to help him.  I will be forever grateful to her for not letting him be alone. I had called our children and 2 of them came to the hospital (the 3rd was all the way down in Chattanooga and couldn't get here quick enough. I was heartbroken for him driving all that way alone...they were in the middle of a move and his wife was on her way down from Detroit). Greg's family and mine all came to the hospital.  We said our farewells, some at the hospital, some at the funeral home. Some were peaceful, some not so much. 

The next few days were a blur and a whirlwind.  Somehow, we all made it through.  At his work, they were devastated and in shock.  Work came to a standstill when the boys picked up the toolbox. I think that's when it became real for those guys. The funeral gathering was nice, I think.  I talked to so many people...and I'm sorry if I don't remember anyone.  As I walked in to the Funeral Home, I got somewhat hysterical, thinking "If I don't go in here, it can't happen and life will gone on as it was" Silly, I know.  But running away has always been kinda my thing, and I figured I could run away and this wouldn't be happening.  But I didn't.  I stood strong there in that space. And I'm still standing strong for the most part.

On a side note, I called the Doctor's office to cancel his appointment.  I spoke to his Doctor and she was flabbergasted.  This was NOT expected, his scan looked good.  He might have had the beginning of pneumonia, but she was going to prescribe an antibiotic.  There were some new areas of concern, but she wanted to monitor them.  The recommendation was going to be come back for a scan in 3 months.  So...did the cancer kill him? Most assuredly, even though the official cause of death was cardiac arrest. Contributing factor - Cancer of the Lung. I'll spare you the gory details (and they are)...but Cancer sucks.

So, that's why I haven't, and probably won't update that Disney trip anymore.  It was fun...but the memories are somewhat blurred behind all the turmoil.  All I can say is from July 2015 through May 2016, my life had some highlights, but it truly was the worst year of my life so far. I'm getting better, the kids are getting better. And Life goes on...