Saturday, April 2, 2016

Within the last few years, I have developed what I call a "Sadness Quotient". Simply defined as the amount of sadness, bad news, blah I allow myself to be exposed to.  The last couple of days when I get out of bed, my quotient for the day has already been reached.  There is so much sadness, meanness, wrongness, badness in the world. What the fuck is wrong with people?  I don't have the answer.   Blah!

Sunday, March 27, 2016

I mourn for my Father

Not true.  I just thought is was a catchy post title.  I like the sound of it.  When I say it in my head it sounds sullen and deep.  I say it in a voice that sounds like the deep voiced announcer of movies years ago.

My Dad did pass away on February 26th, 2016.  He had been put in hospice about 10 days before his passing.  I was on my way "home" to see him, one last time.  We were told to get there sooner than later.  The cat, BooDuh, and I were driving through Forsyth, MT when my sister called.  She told me to "pull over."  I knew.  I didn't need to pull over, I just knew.  I did pull over, because the words needed to be said, the questions needed to be asked.  My mind needed to know the finality.  I sobbed, for a bit, then pulled back on the highway.

I had talked to Dad the Monday before he passed.  It was one of the more coherent conversations we had had in a long while.  "Hello daughter," he boomed!  "Hi Dad, I'm coming to see you," I told him. He had no concept of what I was telling him.  He asked the always asked question, "Where you at?" The answer was always "in Montana".  "Oh."  I told him I loved him.  He told me he loved me.  The conversation was over.

I have yet to mourn the passing of my Dad.  I cry sometimes at memories.  I cry sometimes because he is gone.  Just like with my Mom's passing almost five years ago, there have been a lot of firsts. This is my first Easter without a Dad.  Without a Mom and Dad.  As an orphan, in Montana.

I talked to my sister, Betty, about not mourning Dad's passing.  I told her I wondered if it was because I have been mourning his loss for quite sometime.  Dad had alzheimers.  I had been told a few weeks prior that his alzheimers had advanced.  He had been going away for a couple of years, slowly.  Slow enough that I watched from the sidelines, unable to do anything.  Slow enough that it could be seen and heard.  And mourned.

I know one of these days I will have a good cry over the passing of my Dad.  I know I need to. I need to cry. I need to let out the pain in my heart.  I need to.  But, not today.  Not yet. Not today.

(As a side note, when I spell alzheimers I get a squiggly red line indicating the word is spelled wrong. The only spelling error is that it it is not capitalized.  The disease in my opinion is not worthy of a capital a.)