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.

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.)

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 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.