posted
I am so angry today about this damn Lyme disease .... this horrid disease that we all share that just keeps taking and taking and taking pieces of our lives and bodies.
What has gotten me so pissed today is that I did not go to my Dad's grave on his birthday (I did remember to wish him Happy Birthday when I saw 'his' star in the skies that night), I also put Memorial Day out of my mind .... I was thinking mainly of veterans, my mother got very angry that not me or my brother or sister called to wish her their '50th' Anniversary ....... she's still stewing over that one (for God's sake, she's been seeing someone else for quite some time). Father's Day passed me by unknowingly.
But to top it all off .... I FORGOT THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY DAD'S DEATH!!! He died four years ago yesterday. I knew he died in June but my swiss cheese of a brain is forgetting so much lately. My short term memory sucks .... I can't even remember what I did in the morning .... some days run into each other and I have no idea of what the current day is (thank God for the weather channel ..... gives the date, day and time ..... my lifesaver at times).
The day my Dad died, a friend of mine gave me very good advice .... he said to make sure I got something that was very important to my Dad and that I could now keep and to also sit down and write my Dad a letter. I did both things .... I have the cross that my Dad was given when he converted to Catholicism .... I wear it most of the time or I have it with me just to be able to 'touch' Dad's spirit. The letter I wrote a few weeks after his death and if you don't mind I would like to share it with you .... to kind of make up for my delinquent brain cells. It's kind of long so if you don't care to read it, believe me, I understand. Thank you so much for letting me get this all of my chest. I just feel so guilty for not remembering such important dates. You guys are always there when I need you. Now for the letter: -------------------------------------------Sunday July 22, 2001 11:00 PM
Dear Dad,
You died four weeks and six hours ago (Sunday June 24, 2001 at approximately 5:00 PM). Who would have ever thought I'd be writing to you now. But I know you can see and hear me - as if you were standing here in my living room right now. I can feel you here.
I wear your confirmation medal so that I will feel close to you. But you and I both know I don't need it because you will always be with me - your medal is basically a physical presence - something I can touch. But all I really need to do is look into my heart - that is where you are present.
When Sharon called me and I saw your name on the caller ID, I knew what she was going to tell me, even though I asked her what she had said. And then, later on to find out how you died - what your last moments were - thinking of you laying on the kitchen floor with Mom trying to breathe air into your fluid-filled lungs while you stared openly, your eyes glazed over. Were you aware of what was going on? Were you in pain? Were you praying for Mom to breath life into you or were you already on your way to God giving him your soul to comfort?
And comfort you did need. You fought the good fight with your body - you fought it hard and long. I just pray your death was the "release" you needed - mentally and physically. Every night while you were ill, I would pray for your "peace of mind" - especially after your body seemed to be healing so well. So little did we know. But, I'm sure that if your passing was the only way to have peace of mind, then that is why God called you to his side. He left your tired body here for us to grieve over and bury - but your soul, your spirit is so near and so alive.
A new star was born shortly after you were buried. This nova burned oh so bright red near the brightest star in the sky (the North Star, I believe). And it was born one night while I was standing on your back deck talking to you in the Heavens. That star still burned with a reddish cast and some nights it (your star) and the bright North Star are the only two visible to my eyes. But on that first night, soon after your star was born, so many other stars began glowing down at me. That's when I realized you are not alone - you are with Raymond, and with Pop, and with your parents, and all who went before you. Father and Son were reunited twice - God and you, you and Raymond. Even for a lapsed Catholic, that gives me such great comfort.
What do you see when you look down on us? Are you proud of us? Are you proud of me? You and I - we shared so much. And not all of it good - each of us and our stubborn ways. Many times fighting against each others wills. We shared an equal quilt in Raymond's death, we shared the shame of being alcoholics, we shared the same fragile mental health, we shared so many fights - but the most important thing we shared was our love. Even through the longest, know-down, drag-out fight, we each knew how much we loved one another. And, basically, when it comes right down to it - that's all that really ever mattered. We loved each other unconditionally - how else could we have been so passionate with our other emotions if we weren't so connected so deeply by respect and love.
The skies are cloudy tonight - I cannot see you. But I know you are up there watching over us, especially Mom. She really misses you, but luckily she has that Lake determination as do all of her elder female relations who lost their husbands way too soon. With your guidance and her strength, she will be fine. And, of course she's got Scottie - your little "black boy" - to comfort her so she won't feel so alone. He's not quite sure where his master/friend/companion is, but I'm sure he also senses that you're close by.
Kevin is being strong - way too strong. I hope he leans on Tina when he needs to. Sharon has Bill, and she and I are not afraid to show emotion when the need strikes us. And, even Michael is keeping an eye on both Mom and me. I hope you're as proud of him as am I. Joshua apparently feels the need to be by himself to lick his wounds. He will come around soon enough. Please peek in on him now and then, OK? You can see him and guide him in a way that I cannot right now.
Dad - I will always remember the twinkle in your eyes right before your smile lit up your face. I will always remember the frown that passed over you face right before you got ready to bellow - and, boy you could yell. As I look back, I'm very grateful we were able to fight the way we did - immediately without letting things bottle up. And once the air was clear again - there would be that twinkle in your eyes again. I will always remember that look of raw fear you had over the years, especially in Sayre and during you last few stays in the hospitals. How I wanted to take that fear away from you and tell you everything's gonna be all right. But I know that fear all to well (from the inside out) and nobody can take it away from you except yourself.
I remember the last time I saw you - at University Hospital in Syracuse. I had just explained to you and Mom that I was going back to Binghamton with Kevin and then driving back home to Concord. The look of shock (fear?) in your eyes almost drove me right into the ground. But after I (guiltily) explained that I, too, was sick and not getting any better, you seemed to understand that I needed to be home to rest. Believe me, I never would have left you if I thought for one second that you weren't completely out of the woods and recuperating as expected. I remember kissing you good-bye and you shaking my hand and saying "Good luck to you." I remember your lecture to listen to my brother and get a good nights sleep in Binghamton before traveling to Concord.
And, finally, I remember the last time we talked - our last phone conversation. It was the night before Father's Day. I remember how weak and tired your voice was. But, I could tell you were trying so valiantly to keep your spirits up while we talked. You always did hate talking on the phone! You almost sounded like a shy little child when you thanked me for the Father's Day Tree. Michael has since planted that tree and I hope it grows tall and strong in your honor - a way to immortalize your strength and ability to withstand all of the storms. Until the last one - the night you died. Dad, that took great courage to know when it was time to leave your tired body behind. You fought so many battles - both physically and mentally. It's no wonder your tired body had to give up on you and let your spirit go free.
You are now pain-free, free of a sick body, guilt-free, and free of all mental anguish. And I thank God for that! And I love you and I miss you and I will hold you very near in my thoughts and in my heart. Until that day that I will be with you again and I can tell you what I am feeling now.
I love you and thank you so much for being my Dad, Deb
Posts: 830 | From Endicott, NY | Registered: Aug 2001
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trueblue
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 7348
posted
I don't know how to say this exactly, without it sounding weird, but your dad knows and understands from where he is.
Don't beat yourself up about what day you remembered or didn't.
My dad died 4 years ago as well and I can't for the life of me remember the day, it's toward the end of September. I wrote a letter shortly after he died, as well. We were never close but felt I needed to.
Thank you for sharing your letter to your dad.
Posts: 3783 | From somewhere other than here | Registered: May 2005
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GEDEN13
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 4151
posted
i don't think he minded you missing the day of his parting.
my dad past 11 year's ago.hardly think of him with this disease eating me up.
but when i do think of him,i ask his help.i know he hear's me.make's that little situation easier to handle...
your letter choked me up.aslo made me think of my dad.without your letter,the day would have past without a thought of him.i truely thankyou for that.
handle your forgetfulness any way you can.there is understanding,although you can't see it..
posted
Thank you so much for replying to my letter to my Dad.
Trueblue - Even though you never felt close to your father ... I think that somewhere down the road you'll be thankful that you did write a letter to him.
Gary - I'm sorry that you 'choked up' but I am very glad that my letter helped you remember your Dad even if it was for one day. You're right about us having so much to do (like medical bills and wondering if we have enough money for scripts this month) and feeling the pain and ravaging of this disease. But for some reason I put myself up to a higher standard .... I just could not believe that I forgot all of those days. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him .... it's just that those were 'special' days.
Janet - thanks for reading my letter. How sad that your dad had to die during the worst days our country was going through and then to have your personal life turned upside down at the same time.
Thank you again for taking the time out of your day to read and respond to my letter. This may sound weird but I keep a notebook about my Dad ... letters and poems and cards I've written to him over the years since he died. Each page is preserved with sheet protectors and it is a great comfort to me. My Dad always got mad when I would buy 'wordy' cards for his birthday, father's day, etc. He always said to just write down what I was feeling. Of course, I still bought cards - very simple ones - and learned over the years to write a lot on them instead of the card doing the 'talking' for me. And now I still continue to do so even after his death.
Thank you for helping feel a bit better, Deb
[This message has been edited by shadow13 (edited 26 June 2005).]
Posts: 830 | From Endicott, NY | Registered: Aug 2001
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GEDEN13
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 4151
posted
deb ,don't apoligize for me"choking up". that was not a bad thing..actually,it did me well/good.
also that is a wonderful thing you do,writng letter's and poem's dedicated to your father.
i am sure he know's about them...
as for the med bill's and such piling up.just take it" a day at a time"...gary
cootiegirl
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 3216
posted
Deb, There is no doubt about it - lyme brain sucks. I have to agree with the others - don't be hard on yourself for not remembering dates.
It is my belief that when we die, time is irrelevant. We have passed on to a place of total happiness and the earthly matters are of no concern to us. So memorials, funerals, anniveraries are of no consequence to the spirit....but they are everything to the living, thus the guilt when we forget. So much of this is really for the 'earth bound'.
Your father knows of your love and devotion to him. He is with you everyday. He knows of your struggles in health and personal life and is there for you.... cootiegirl
Posts: 1728 | From New York State | Registered: Oct 2002
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