The Letter Says it All

My Dad was a Farm Boy

My mother has been cleaning out her home and passing on many of her treasures.  Some of those treasures were my dad's.  My dad grew up on a farm and he learned at a young age, 5, to milk cows.  It was a part of his chores everyday to milk the cows.  He would tell a story about how he would squirt the milk at the barn cats and they use there paws to wave the milk into their mouth.  I am still a little skeptical of that story, but who knows it might not be one of his tall tales.



My Dad at 5 getting ready to milk a cow.

One of the things my mom gave me was the kerosene lantern my dad would take with him to the barn every morning. I remember when I was a kid that the lantern would come out when our electricity would go out.  My dad would use the occasion to lecture us on lantern safety and tell us about the time his jacket caught on fire.  He said one of his older brothers saw my dad on fire and threw him on the ground to smother the fire out.  My dad warned us, if we ever caught on fire not to run, but throw yourself down and roll on the fire like his brother had done to him.  He always said his brother saved his life that day because my dad was getting ready to run in panic.

Dietz Kerosene Lantern

That was how my dad was. He was always telling you some story to teach you something or sometimes to pull your leg.  You weren't always sure which one it was.  Regardless, I treasure all those stories now and wish he had told me more.  Miss you Dad.

5 Years and Counting

My Dad in his late 20s.

Today is the 5 year anniversary of my dad's passing.  I have spent the past years re-living those final hours of his life.  To see someone so strong so destroyed by this disease was worse than anything I had ever seen before.  All ideas of Christian grace gone.  It was horrific.  And yet when people said to me, his passing was a relief from the pain, I wanted to scream at them why did he have to suffer at all.  I still carry such anger and pain at this vile thing called cancer and if I pray for anything it is that there is a cure so no one suffers as he did.  After the anger is the hole from the loss of someone so important to me.  I move forward and make the new normal without him, but know I still cry when I think of all the things I can no longer share with him.  Grief is not about stages, it is about forcing yourself forward when with every inch you leave the life you shared with your loved one behind.  Sad day, sad thoughts.

Not Forgotten

Sorry not to have blogged.  I have had so many things I have thought to blog about, but not blogged.  We have been house hunting, I have been obsessively cake hunting, Baby Sis has moved to town, and Pride is just around the corner. Much busyness. 

Finally, had some tough days with father's day last week and my dad's birthday tomorrow.  Still learning to cope.  Will catch up with my blog soon.

In the meantime, here are photos of details from some of the Cakeway to the West.  Because it is my obsession.

Katy Trail Cake in St Charles

Koi fish swimming on the side of the Grant's Farm Cake

Loved the Elephant on the side of the Eads Bridge cake

Praying Mantis on top of the City Museum Cake

Angriest Dove I have ever seen on the base the Christ Church Cathedral Cake

Year Three

Today is my father's birthday, the third one since he died in 2010.  I have been trying to focus on the good memories, but with losing my cat yesterday I feel a little melancholic.  Okay, a lot melancholic.  Things have improved so much in my life in the last 6 months, I wish my dad was here to share in my good fortune.  I am sure he would have loved calling me everyday and asking if I was on my way to jail. The silliness would have fueled many corny exchanges.  I miss that.  Things are better in my life, but can I just say on this day there is much emptiness in my life.  Friends do me a favor show your love ones how much you love them.  In the end the love is what you remember.

Three Years and Counting or Missing My Dad

If you follow my blog, you know that I have been struggling with the grief of losing my dad three years ago today to pancreatic cancer.  We watched as the pain, medication, and the cancer stripped my father of everything he valued until all that was left was his struggle to survive.

Vernon Lambing on His Snap-On Truck, Circa 2000

On the morning of his death he woke up and said, "I am here, I thought I was gone."  Those were his last words, he died about an hour later.  Heart wrenching, even now. 

I still cry about his death, he was 68, and not ready to leave this world.  I know it is cliche, but I am still angry about how he died.  Cancer is cruel.  I try to not to be get caught up in this cycle of anger and grief, but today it caught me as soon as I woke up and here I am allowing myself to feel the anguish of my loss.

Tomorrow I will tuck away the pain and focus on the good memories before the cancer, but today I tarry in the land of grief.  Excuse the self-indulgence, I am human and sometimes I just need to cry.
(Please No Comments, everyone has been so supportive, sometimes I just need to vent.)

Remembering My Dad

Today my dad would have been, 71.  I know you guys have listened to me be sad about this loss before.  But there is still this large hole in my life that has his name on it.  I am doing better than I was even a year ago, I rarely cry about his death unless I am near a rack of Father's Day cards at the grocery store.  I see this lack of tears as an improvement.  I also refuse to let him be upgraded to sainthood by my mother or sister.  He was a real person with flaws like everyone else.  So again I say improvement.  Today I got out of bed, spent time with loved ones, drank tea, and I laughed.  Improvement.  I have learned to cope, but the memory of him moves forward with me. He was loved and is missed.  Enough said.

The Cruelest of Months

Unlike hometown boy, T.S. Eliot, I think February. not April is the cruelest of months.  February makes me think about losing my dad.  Friday will be the second anniversary of his death, and I have to tell you I still miss him so much.  I have come a long way from where I was last year in my grief.  Sometimes it is hard, but that said, I am trying to focus on moving forward while still holding on to the good memories.  

I have been so lucky (last years resolution) to be surrounded by so much love and support from my friends and family.  Their everyday kindnesses have been a comfort getting me through some these rough times.  Today I was surprised by a very sweet Valentines present from some of my nearest and dearest.  The gift though not expensive was so thoughtful and lovingly given, it made a cold snowy day in St Louis a little less bleak.  I got hot pink heart shaped peeps, Swedish fish, and a groovy salt and pepper shaker set.  I can only say as cruel as February may be, this little bit of valentine love made the month seem not quite so cruel and my heart a little less achy.  To all of you who have helped me get through this loss know how much it has helped, thank you.

Dreaming About My Dad

As you dear reader know I have been working very hard to deal with the grief of losing my father.  I feel I am doing better.  So much better that I stopped seeing a therapist in June.  I am remembering my dad and talking about him more without my throat starting to close up and tears springing to my eyes.  If I were to give myself a grade, I was say I am at a B. 

That is not to say I don't think about my dad and miss him, I do everyday.  I can still see his face and I remember the sound of his voice.  I think the problem is sometimes I forget that he is gone.  Last night I dreamed about my dad.  I dreamed my phone rang and when I answered the phone I could hear his voice saying my name over and over again like he could not hear me.  The dream was so real I woke up crying, "Dad, I'm here!"  I was startled and immediately grabbed my phone to call him back.  It wasn't until I got to my contacts list that I discovered I had no listing for "Dad." It was then I remembered I would need a much more powerful network to call him.

Those moments are hard.  Very hard.  I have to re-experience the trauma of loss all over again.  I feel like all the air has rushed out of my lungs and I can't breath.  I think it must be the same for most us in dealing with grief.  As much as it hurts today I got up and went to work and pasted on that fake everything is good smile and went on with my life.  However, a part of me wishes I hadn't woke up and I could have just heard my dad talk to me just a little longer.  Yes,  I still miss my dad.

And the Stars Fell on Alabama

I am home from my brief trip to Daulphin Island, Alabama.  I have so much I could wax on and on about, but I need to unpack and get ready to go back to work tomorrow (yuck).  But right now, I am thinking about the stars.  At night I would sit on a dock or the back porch of the hotel listening to the surf, enjoying the night breezes, and just stare up into the starry sky and dream.  I made up a new constellation of a man on a motorcycle riding his heart out.  I would name that constellation Vernon.  Tonight at home I am missing those stars.

And the Beat Goes On

This year one of my goals was to blog at least once a week.  Well, sometimes goals aren't met and life goes on.  Everything goes on, there is just no holding it back.  So it is with me.  The world keeps revolving on it axis and I am forced to continue with my struggle with grief.  I am looking at the one year anniversary of my father's death and I feel as if I have spent the last year watching him die everyday. 

Somedays, like today, it is the thought Dad will be out on his motorcycle enjoying the strawberry spring today.  Then like a blot on the day, I remember he is gone and his motorcycle lives under a tarp.  Other days it is the memory of an event like this time last year my dad held my hand and told me he loved me for the last time.  In either case it is a tailspin into grief. 

I do try to put things in perspective and recognize this is the way of life and that nothing I am going through is unique.  These feelings and situation are all apart of the human condition.  I am on my journey and I though I am trying to take the route of acceptance and peace, somedays, I just make the wrong turn and end up here.  Stalled out, wishing my dad would come and pull me out of the mess I have got myself in.

I Miss My Dad

I miss my dad, I know that is not a surprise for anyone who has been around me of late.  Today it is particularly hard, today he would have been his 69th birthday.  My dad hated his birthday, he hated getting older, and he really hated us reminding him of it.  On his 40th birthday the neighbor lady helped me make him a blackberry cobbler and I made a big sign and put it up over the door so everyone would know it was his special day.  I waited impatiently to surprise him with dinner and cobbler.  He drove up in his big tool truck and got out looking up at the sign.  I saw the look on his face and knew I had made a terrible mistake.  The extra large 40, mortified him.  I saw him swallow his humiliation and eat my horrid dinner followed by the cobbler, my only success that night.  I never made birthday signs or cobbler again.

I think the birthday sign truly does epitomize the relationship my dad and I had.  We just never really understood each other.  I thought he would love the fuss over him, because I do.  Dad never wanted to be at the center of the party, he wanted to stand on the porch and drink his beer.  Me I love to be in thick of it, laughing the loudest.  My dad and I were just so radically different from one another.  I don't think my dad ever really had a clue what I did for a paycheck.  He also never understood why I would grow up to be a lesbian.  But like the sign he would notice the difference and then choose to ignore it.  He loved me and that is what mattered to him.

We worked at finding that middle ground and avoiding those moments of oppositions.  When we first found out he was sick all we could say to one another was how much we loved each other.  I made sure to tell him what a good dad he had been and how lucky I was to have had him in my life.  He looked at me with tears in his and eyes and I knew for once we understood each other nothing more needed to be said.

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Today I am sad, trying to accept my loss.  My life goes on, I  pay bills, go to work, knit, and participate in a world that continues to revolve ignoring my petty struggles.  I just keep looking for a place on that common ground, a place where my dad and I found peace.

Company is coming

We had lots of company today. The nurse, the priest, two aunts, a med tech, former snap-on driver with his son, and of course all of us. The phone keeps ringing, and my dad is sleeping through it all. And in the middle of it all my mom discussed the funereal with us today. Very long day, no knitting accomplished either.

Feb. 9, 2010

Dad was very alert today. He ask all of us into the bedroom and asked if we thought it would be better if he had a hospital bed. We all agreed to try it out and if it didn't work we would send it back. Surprised me how quickly the bed arrived. Dad fell in the bathroom and hurt his hip. Mom was with him, but he got away from her. Dad seemed okay afterwards, but scared us all. I knitted another washcloth and I am working on a third one.

Day One: Gratitude

My job, my dad, and my own very special set of neuroses, along with the minutiae of my daily life overwhelm me. Everything compounds until I hit a spiral of negative energy that just tears me down. Realizing that I am struggling to make it through my days, I started going to a therapist. I know, judge me if you will, but I am trying to make sense of all this noise and not be so miserable. Recently, I pretty much said to my therapist, "I hate my life."

She responded with, "You should keep a Gratitude Notebook."

I laughed in the poor woman's face. I laughed and laughed, until I got to my car and then I cried and cried. With introspection and a little notebook next to my bed, I have been keeping a gratitude notebook. I try to write two things in it every night, on bad days I go back and review what I have been grateful for in the past. It amazes me how grateful I am for food and woodchucks. An idea developed what if I kept a daily gratitude on flickr or blogspot. After some more realistic introspection, I decided to try to be virtually grateful for a month. November being the month of Thanksgiving, I decided to find one thing everyday that makes my day a little better.

Today, day one, I am grateful for my father. If you have been reading my blog you know that my dad has been fighting the good fight against pancreatic cancer. This time last year we thought my dad would be gone now. His chances on making it to another year were slim, and the doctor had even told him, that cancer had the better odds; take that doctor. My dad is still here, still working, still riding his motorcycle, and still generally being my dad. If I fail at the whole blogging everyday task, I will still have at least that one thing I am grateful for, my dad. Everyday, with him now is gravy. I love gravy.

Good News Deserves a Break

The first order of business is the good news that my dad is still doing well. And if you have heard this somewhere else (facebook, twitter, me in person) sorry, but good news is worth hearing again. My dad's doctor visit this week went so well he is not scheduled for another appointment until mid-December. When I think about how at this time last year I thought I would never have another holiday season with my dad, I am feeling very lucky right now. I would also like to make sure and thank everyone for their kind words and support. You have all been so comforting during this very difficult time, thank you.

With that said, I am going to take the rest of the month off from blogging. Part of the problem is I am furiously knitting away and I really can't post about what I am knitting because it is Christmas knitting, i.e. the stuff I am knitting to give away as Christmas presents. I am a little self-conscious about giving knitting as a present because it is like giving your mom a gold painted macaroni necklace (Cool instructions on how to dye pasta http://www.ehow.com/how_4850657_dye-pasta-beads-kids-crafts.html). Sure she will fuss over it and even wear it a few times, but in the end she probably would have preferred a gift card to JoAnne's. But still I knit on, hoping that my knitted item will find a good home. Furthermore, I currently feel driven to knit. So I will knit.

Catch-Up

Catch-Up Part I
I have mentioned before that my dad has pancreatic cancer. Last November the Doctor said that if my dad and cancer were boxers he would beat on the cancer. He gave my dad six to nine months. I took it hard, my whole family did. This winter was rough, my dad got skinnier and skinnier. However, the cancer didn't move and got smaller. My dad kept up with his chemo and slowly he got stronger and put back on some of his weight. A couple of weeks ago he packed up his traveling kit and headed north on his iron horse. They didn't make it to Alaska, but he made it to Canada and had a good time. He came back exhausted, but happy. Then comes the good news, his cancer is still not moving or growing. Dad is official off chemo and is feeling good. This story still doesn't have the Hollywood ending, but the doctor is thinking maybe he should have bet on my dad.

Catch-Up Part II
Friday I had the day off and I got to hang out with the ever joyous Little Nell. We went to University City, had lunch at Pi ( http://www.restaurantpi.com/index2.html ). Pi has the distinction of serving pizza to the President. The President liked it so much he has order it since his visit to St Louis. We thought if it was good enough for a president, it was good enough for us. Oh my was it yummy. We ordered the East Loop, a thin crust pizza with pesto and chicken and lots of delicious cheese. Not trying to get in any debates about which pizza style is best, but the waitresses' shirts proclaiming no provel was a good sign. The place was hopping and we were lucky to get a table they were so busy.

After pizza we walked next door to Knitty Couture ( http://www.knittycouture.com/ ). Knitty Couture is not my usual knitting venue, but Friday was about thinking outside my usual box. We shopped ( I bought some Kid Silk Haze in toxic green) and then sat and knit with the shop owner. I felt like a rookie with two knit hall of famers, but they were both so gracious I clacked merrily along with them. The weather was beautiful and the company fabulous, it was a great afternoon.

Catch-up Part III
I did it, I went to see The Time Traveler's Wife. I loved the book so I was a little unsure of how I would feel about the film. I felt the scope of the book would be hard to distill down to a two hour film. I was impressed that the adaption was so well done. The essence of the story and important details were retained to make the movie very palatable. What really attracted me to book was the love story between Henry and Clare. In many ways the story reminded me of The Odyssey. Henry's journey is through the important events of his life, and Clare has to wait for him to return to her.

I think my only disappointment was the soundtrack. The novel had a very distinctive hardcore soundtrack in my head. The producers decided to take away that edge and give a softer more romantic ambiance to it. I was expecting a little more Ramones and got a lot more Soundscape Channel.

I am hoping this isn't a spoiler, but I was impressed the movie did not deviate to far from the ending of the novel. No Hollywood endings here.

BEST NEWS!

BEST NEWS!!! MY DAD IS BEING TAKEN OFF OF CHEMO BECAUSE HIS CANCER IS NOT MOVING. DOC WILL CHECK BACK N 2 MONTHS! GOOD NEWS!