My first entry... "Today"

I've been encouraged for some time that I should write more. More recently I've been encouraged to journal. I hate to journal. It feels like all I do is ramble and that I really don't have any thoughts of value to hang onto and read later.  However, to try to give some value to this uncomfortable, unwanted, unwelcome time of my life. I will attempt to journal. My fear of recording and sharing my own raw unedited feelings & thoughts is not pleasant. I'm told it brings value to others.


I'm not going to go backwards... the story will just have to be revealed & told as I go along.


For today - I came to the realization that my discomfort and difficulty of accepting what has happened & the truth of what is happening is that my world was a much safer place with him here. From a clogged sink being fixed or an appliance repaired to giving me unconditional love & acceptance - I felt safer, more secure with him here.


When anyone and everyone else in my world may have disappointed me, let me down, betrayed or  abandoned me - there was never a doubt that THEY were there. He is an equal equation of THEY. When I didn't measure up, felt like I was failing, let someone down, was afraid, didn't think I could do it, wasn't smart enough or lacked courage or self confidence - there was never a doubt that THEY told me that I could and that I am smart enough and good enough. He is an equal equation of THEY.


THEY will always be THEY. THEY will always be "my parents", THEY will always be "Mom and Dad's".


How do I do this? My sense of security feels threatened. I'm having a Homeland Security Red Level Safety Alert. How did this happen? This can't be happening. I refuse to allow myself to be a victim of his disease that I have not been diagnosed with. I can't curl up, lay down and die emotionally and mentally... right along with him. But it feels like a critical, core piece of me is gone... it went with him that night.


I've been told that I needed to be there completely present for those 25 hours. I needed to see, watch, observe and stare into what has to be the most unbelievable, most powerless, most surreal moments and hours of my life. It had to be that brutally cruel for me to acknowledge that yes, this really did happen. He really is gone. I love him too much to ask him to stay and experience one more moment of 'that' just to be here with me. I can't ask him to stay for one more minute with me. I can't beg him or God to let him stay.

I didn't watch him go through this as my grandparents left us. He was brave. He didn't seem sad. I remember how he seemed to be genuinely at peace about it. I feel like it should have been that way for me but I'm clearly not as brave as he was. I'm being coached not to compare my journey through grief with anyone else and yet he's my measuring stick and I'm not measuring up too well.


It has been nearly 90 days since April 18th, and yet it feels like the clock and the world should have stopped at 7:40pm, April 18, 2012. I can't stop anything from marching on... the world doesn't stop, wait or pause.

Time is supposed to be my friend. My healing is supposed to come with time. I'm not doing "this" very gracefully. The struggle is claustrophobic at times. There is absolutely nothing I can do to escape it or change it. I am so powerless and my only option is acceptance... and that sucks! Just the same as time that is my alleged friend but feels more like an enemy, acceptance is also suppose to be my friend. It's where I will find freedom and liberty but it also feels like defeat... because I have to become willing to be stripped to the barest, rawest essence of powerlessness to arrive at genuine acceptance. I will likely find gratitude and contentment when I arrive there. Two more "friends" that currently feel like they are also a galaxy away.


Today my daddy's "tool chest" was delivered to my house. I have wanted his "tool chest" for my own since I was a teenager. I claimed it and informed him "someday you're going to have to empty out all that junk because I'm going to take that to my own house." He thought I was crazy to want that old beat up, weathered, smelly piece of junk. It may now be my most precious & valued possession. I spent time with this beautiful piece of furniture this evening. I touched everything, sanded some of the rough stuff and wiped off the first of many layers of dust & dirt. I opened every drawer and cupboard door, I smelled it. I sat with it, I talked to it and cried. I wanted him to see it here, I wish he could have. I wanted him to know that after all these years I finally brought it home.