Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Dead inside

I have come to a conclusion. When my died, some of me died with him. What I mean is, I am a bit dead inside. I feel as though I will never be the same.

I don't know if it was because it was unexpected. Well, he had a type of leukemia but he could have lived for many many years with it.

I believe I had a very special relationship with my dad. We were very alike in many ways. Even when I was a pain in the arse teenager, I would love to hold his hand. I would sit RIGHT next to him. My grandparents used to laugh at me. I didn't care.

When I got the call that my dad died, we were in the car waiting in the parking lot for K to finish her dance class. I got a call from Eric's Aunt who lived across the street that there was an ambulance at my dad's house. I called and spoke to my dad's wife who said they wouldn't do anything for him. I sort of remember handing the phone to Eric. I was seriously on the verge of freaking out. He said they were taking him to the hospital so I thought everything was okay.

I dropped everyone off at home and headed to the hospital. I remember talking to my good friend Natalie who lost her dad about a year before, I said "no one dies on a Tuesday right?" I got to the hospital and I should have known something was wrong when someone came out and got me. NO ONE takes you where you are going, you follow the colored line on the floor.

I walked into the room where my Dad's wife was crying and as I walked in the doctor walked in, or he was there, I am really not sure. He said "I am sorry, we did everything we could". I surprised myself and calmly thanked him and asked if we could see him as my dad's wife was crying hard. He let us know that he would have a tube still in his mouth. We walked it and it was...odd. I mean there he was. Just laying there. Not moving.

Don't get me wrong. I have seen dead people before. My grandparents, Eric's family members, I was familiar with death. At some point my dad's neighbor John and his wife came by. I calmly went out and told them what happened. Called my brothers. Called my mom. I put off calling Eric. That would make it too real.

Finally I called him. I held it together. I remember putting myself across my dad and thinking "why doesn't he hold me?" Isn't that odd? I went to my dad's house and was there for a few hours. I went home and slept. When I woke up the next morning there was a HUGE spray of flowers from my friend Hope. I sat on the couch, when I saw them I started crying.

I think from the moment I felt I had to be relaxed I did myself a disservice. I should have let go in the beginning. I think I still hold back.

Songs make me cry. Nothing makes me cry. But I never really "got it out" I think it died. I think part of me died. I will never be completely the same. I will never be as carefree. I will never be the me I once was.

5 comments:

Julie said...

I understand what you are saying, I have seen this in people before. My mom changed when her Dad died, she was different. I think it was all those years of stuff that had been hidden and not let out. I wonder if someday your grief will emerge? When I lost my baby about five years later the grief emerged.

I am so sorry about your loss, it is so hard. I will understand someday but for now I can just send (((hugs)))

PS Everything makes me cry, when I don't cry then something is wrong.

Andrea said...

Wow, I am speechless reading this. I'd never heard the story before of how you found out. Those are some powerful words.

No, you will never be the same. But you are a better person because he is your dad. He helped shape who you are today. And you are a wonderful person because of it.

**hugs**

Louisa said...

How wonderful that you were able to have such a close relationship with your father. I am so sorry for your loss though! Thanks for being so honest about your experience.

drama mama said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I wish I could give you a big hug and take you out for an ice cream!

Stephanie said...

I'm sorry. :-( I wish I had been there when my Dad died, my mom called me from the hospital when they took him, and then again when they couldn't save him, but it wasn't the same. I will always regret that I couldn't be there. I think I lost a little bit of myself then too. So I guess what I'm saying is I understand. ((hugs))