Posts Tagged ‘blessings’
Posted in acceptance, Chronic Lyme Disease, co-infections, home, hope, parent, son, spiritual growth, Tucson, unemployment, tagged blessings, faith, family, fatigue, Gratitude, health, inspiration, surrender on April 9, 2017| 1 Comment »
I’ve missed writing immensely. I just have not been up to it. It’s not because I’ve been on vacation. It’s not because I’ve been too busy throwing dinner parties or something. And it sure isn’t because I’ve been out riding my bike. The reason I’ve missed writing immensely is, well, because I’ve missed me immensely. My life as I knew it – as well as the woman who lived it – seem to be long gone. Not just with my chronic health challenges. But at this moment, it is my truth, that as soon as my 85 year old father was diagnosed with his cancer, something shifted within myself as well. The shift happened deep with in my soul. And since I said goodbye to him the morning of February 20th, 2014, my heart has been missing – perhaps misplaced in Tucson somewhere.
What an amazing lesson I’ve learn as my life was turned upside down in a heartbeat – the greed of both of my father’s ex-wifes came gushing towards me. Now, I’ve seen cheap. And I sure have seen frugal. But, greed? Never have I seen such a sight. It is quite unattractive in a person. I can see now why greed is included as one of The Seven Deadly Sins.
I’ve had to pull the plug on my dark thoughts quite often. And it sure can come out in my writing. Which is bringing me back to the beginning: I’ve missed writing immensely – it is just too dark to share. And I miss my father so deeply that it’s completely unbearable. How do people do this? I do not know how they have gone before me, but for that I am grateful. Yes, I am grateful for every woman who has shown me that it is possible to continue living with out their father. I am sorry for anyone’s grief who has walked this path before me. For now I understand. For now I know.
It has been too long since I have felt good physically. No one really can actually know the depth of my health challenges – I believe the reason is that it is so personal. And because what I really need in a conversation is hard to come by – don’t give me unsolicited health advise – give me encouragement. And the only person who filled me with encouragement my whole life was my father. He was not perfect. But he never left me. He did not speak negatively of his ex-wife (my mother) when she walked out on us when I was a child – he gave me encouragement as he himself tried to do the things “the mom” is supposed to do. He did not offer much advise unless I asked – but he sure did give me encouragement! Someone like that is hard to come by. I miss the lost art of encouraging words. I miss my father… I am grateful and honored that I got to be his voice. And I am grateful and honored that I’ve been given the opportunity to be in Tucson.
As for my heart, it is just misplaced, I’m sure I left it here somewhere. Soon, I will hear God’s voice directing me towards it. And just maybe, just perhaps, it will be better than it ever was before…
Posted in Dad's throat cancer, home, hope, pain, parent, sober, spiritual growth, tagged alcoholism, blessings, California, faith, family, fatigue, Gratitude, health, inspiration, surrender, Tucson on October 21, 2014| 6 Comments »
Once I thought that I’d live in California forever. But I didn’t.
Once I thought that my dad would live forever. But he was not able to.
I never ever thought that I’d live in Tucson, surrounded by my father’s memories.
But suddenly, I do.
I’ve never known the depth of this grace.
I’ve never known this level of humbling fatherly love.
My gratitude is bottomless. My blessings quiet me.
My love is deep. Therefore my grief is deep.
I am a lucky girl because I am my father’s daughter.
I am just going through the motions day after day, missing my father immensely.
But it is with these motions that I will persevere & find my way & a new life.
Because this is how my father taught me to live.
Keep on pushing until I reach the top of the mountain.
Posted in Dad's throat cancer, Fibromyalgia, home, hope, pain, parent, spiritual growth, tagged blessings, faith, family, fatigue, Gratitude, health, High Sierras, Tucson on June 8, 2014| 9 Comments »
I am forever eternally grateful that I listened to my heart and still was in Tucson, and not in LA, when my father suddenly took his last breath. Dad was my entire family on his side of the family. Gently, yet tightly, I held him as I looked at him with his perfect haircut he had just the day before. I carefully, gently, slid my hand underneath the back of his neck and shoulders so I could hold him for as long as I needed – no one would dare ask me to let go of my dad. I intuitively knew that he could still feel my love, protection and admiration. My tears, endless, as I softly spoke into his ear, “You did good Dad. I’m so sorry that you were sick. I understand that you were sick. You did good – please know that. Please know that I understand. Know you are incredibly brave, strong and sensitive to my feelings all in the same moment… I love you Dad… You did good. You did a good job raising me and my brother. You were the original full-time single dad and you did a good job on your own with out help. God is with us.”…. As I slowly lifted my head off of the crook of my father’s neck, one of my gigantic tears had dropped to the inside of my glasses. Ironically, my vision blurred. So hard to focus. To take it all in. The moment important. The pain unbearable. My dad so handsome. His features resembling my grandmother so much that, momentarily, it startled me.
My heart has been so painfully broken since that morning on February 20th, 2014, that I am worried that I will never be my self again. It has been 3 and a half months and it seems I have lost my true voice. The voice I hear is not the old Julie I once knew. I don’t like to talk on the phone. I don’t like to talk to people when I go out side. My body continues to decline from chronic pain and bone crushing fatigue.
What I especially don’t like or appreciate is, on the 9th day after my father passed and I saw him for the last time, I was coldly, cruelly and bluntly greeted with being told I must now get out of my home of 5 years. Who was this self-seeking self-loathing mean old woman who believes her own life of lies? The impostor drill sergeant stepping on landmines waiting to explode in the depth of her self imposed victim’s pot of poison – orders screamed with ugly eyes of misplaced rage and envy, a block of black ice where a heart never ever was to begin with. Was it blood that I witnessed dripping from the black crevices of her empty soul? A clearly planned betrayal with the absurd transparent demand to immediately give up my familiar surroundings upon my return from Tucson and to say good bye to my many neighbors who had become my supportive friends. I especially don’t like that I was forced to move away from my precious, precious little neighbor-friend Emma, who, once a week for 2 years, helped me with chores I had become physically unable to do myself.
I don’t like that the majority of my belongings, my few pieces of furniture, my comforting photographs, my old books of recovery I’ve read over & over for 27 years, sentimental knickknacks and all my clothes except for the suitcase I packed in my haste, are all in storage somewhere, I do not know where, but in Northern California somewhere, while I find myself suddenly living in my refuge, my safe haven, in my father’s guest room in Tucson Arizona. Along with my cat and my father’s 12 year old cat.
Now is the time. Now is the time that I have been given. The opportunity to find out just what I am made of. How deep does my courage run? How strong is my faith? Will my love and belief carry me though this time? Am I steadfast and true as I allow God to continue to lead my way? I continue to demand that my voice be heard. My vision is still as blurry as the morning my tear drop landed on the inside of my glasses as I leaned to hug & kiss my father goodbye…
I become mindful of my father’s words to me when I was a young teenager. We were back packing the switch backs up a particularly steep mountain in the High Sierras. I was looking up and feeling defeated as I was taken in by the gigantic mountain that was still in front of me. It was looking down on me, daring me to come closer. I did not like not knowing how much further I had to push myself before my father set up camp for the night. Exhausted I stopped and reached for my canteen that my father had hooked on my belt for me hours earlier. Being acutely aware, my father gently held my shoulders and said, “Turn around Julie, and see how far you’ve come.” As I turned, with my father’s hand guiding me, I looked down behind me at the path we had just climbed. I was overwhelmed by the dense beauty of the vast Sierra. The view before me was breathtaking and magnificent. And it felt good. I had done good and my father was able to prove it to me… Today I can turn around again, and see just how far I’ve come from LA. It was not in my best interest to remain in my home – because home is where the heart is. No heart to be found there. I do not need to double check this lesson from long ago. This stage of this journey of mine remains in God’s hands. And His plan is too brilliant for me to see right now. I look forward to that day when I will once more “turn around and see how far I’ve come”.
My father peacefully passed away 12 days ago. I have vivid dreams of him almost every night. While my grieving has been quite unbearable and I do not seem to have the energy to answer my phone – I am comforted to know that perhaps my father has finally found my brother. My dad would be so happy to see him again. . . I love you Dad. I know you promised that I will be happy again – but I just don’t think that it will be today. . . but maybe tomorrow. . .
Posted in Dad's throat cancer, Fibromyalgia, hope, pain, parent, sober, spiritual growth, tagged alcoholism, blessings, faith, family, fatigue, Gratitude, health, inspiration, love, recovery, Tucson on January 3, 2014| 4 Comments »
I’ve been staying in Tucson longer than I originally anticipated. 9 weeks ago I arrived with endless hope and energy. As today comes to a close I feel the weight of endless sadness – reckless sleeping has pushed down my weary shoulders and clouded my eyesight. I am amazed at the amount of tears that continue to fall many times a day. I duck into an empty bathroom or I sit in my car, or suddenly I can not hold myself up as I am standing alone washing the dishes in my father’s empty home.
Is this the way life is now? I am unable to see out. Suffering from serious sleep deprivation as I make endless decisions for my father’s care. I find myself with the suprising and distracting task of convincing caregivers that my father is in their facility to recover from throat cancer and chemo – not die – recover! I have learned the hard way that because my father is quite thin and is on a feeding tube many false assumptions have been made. My hope and faith is tested as I take someone aside to explain that my father is already a miracle! can’t you see that he is walking unassisted?! He was in a wheelchair only 2 months ago. PLUS he has gained 7 pounds since he went on that feeding tube. I am quite clear on my hope. I am quite clear I am spreading a positive force of healing thoughts. I am quite clear as I share my admiration for my father’s unwavering determination. Yes, his confusion is heart breaking – however – he is tenacious and healing!
Caregivers giggle when he makes a face like a frog with a wide turned down mouth. Then he makes a face like a fish and puckers up. “Ga. Ga. Ga!” he says with his broken raspy voice. “Ka – ka – ka!” He says with a sly smile and wink. “Wow! Good ones Dad! You’re really improving! Keep up the good work!” I tell him with a gentle hug. “Your throat exercises are making a big difference Dad! I can tell. I just know it to be true. I catch a couple caregivers tilt their head with sudden understanding. They ask questions. So my father teaches them what he is doing to rebuild his throat muscles. The tumors that were at the top of his throat and airway are gone now. He speaks highly of both his oncologist as well as his Speech Pathologist who visits him on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Yes, it is another day in the life with surviving throat cancer. But the good news is, my father’s hard work, combined with hope and my private tears and prayer is paying off in baby steps. The Speech Pathologist gave him 3 sips of water yesterday and then 3 sips of apple juice. He did not cough. He did not choke. He swallowed – he drank them. It was magnificent.
And the best news of all is that my father’s alma mater, Michigan State, won the Rose Bowl. All we can do is the very best we can do. Half measures avail us nothing. It’s another blessed day in Tucson. It is the recovery that comes from hope. Tears are allowed with hope. Confusion is allowed with hope. Sleepless lonely nights in an empty house can still have hope and blessings in every corner.