I'd be lying if I said that life has been wonderful as of late.
It has been pretty darn crappy. And that is putting it lightly. I am in a deep, dark, awful place. I do have my moments where I am happy and have a genuine smile on my face. Those moments are mostly because of my children.
99.9% of the time, I just want to ball up on my bed with the covers over my head and never come out. I don't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. As I type this, I realize how selfish and hateful that sounds. It is not directed at anyone. It's just the way I choose to cope right now. My sweet Mama has sent me some things to read about grief, so I realize that all of this is normal and part of the depression I am experiencing. But it stinks to feel like this.
Today marks four weeks since Daddy went Home. FOUR WEEKS. Four weeks since I last held his warm hand and told him how much I love him and would miss him. Four weeks since I told him, "I'll see you later, Daddy" and "Go Home, Daddy. We will be okay." Four weeks since I watched him take his final breath. Four weeks since the Hospice nurse confirmed that his heart had stopped beating. Four weeks since he met Jesus. Four weeks since I dropped to my knees and praised God for having mercy on my Daddy and for ending his suffering. Four weeks since I kissed his forehead after his spirit had left his body. Four weeks since I sang, "Surely the Presence" in the room where Daddy stepped out of earth and into Heaven. Four weeks. Unbelieveable.
Daddy was hospitalized twice at Duke. Those weeks were tough. Watching Daddy decline each day was excruciating. It seemed that the doctors and nurses just could not seem to get his pain under control. That was so frustrating. I must add, however, that Daddy's team of oncologists and the nurses were so good to Daddy and us. They truly cared. When we were told that Daddy would need to go into a Hospice House, one of his doctors had tears in her eyes. Her heart was so broken for all of us.
This may sound twisted, but I actually miss those days and nights at Duke. Especially the first hospital stay. He was admitted after I drove him in the middle of the night to the ER at Duke. Yes, he was in pain. Yes, he was having scary symptoms. Yes, he was so sick. But he was still Daddy. He was able to talk, walk, eat, go to the bathroom on his own, etc. And why are people normally in the hospital? TO GET BETTER! We had hope while Daddy was there. Once he was moved to the Hospice House, there was still a glimmer of hope. But......
I hated what the Hospice House represented. It is a nice facility, really gorgeous. The nurses there are some of the best you will ever meet. I rode on the ambulance from Duke to the HH. It was a good ride, actually. Daddy stayed awake and didn't let go of my hand the entire time. We even sang some songs together. I was looking forward to Daddy going to the HH. I had done my research and liked what I saw.
That all changed when we pulled up in the driveway. It hit me square through my heart that the building I was looking at was, in all likelihood, the place where my Daddy would pass away. I stayed smiley and cheerful for Daddy's sake. It was a beautiful, bright, sunny day. Gorgeous. But there was a nasty, violent storm brewing inside of me.
As they wheeled Daddy off of the ambulance and into the building, I realized that the next time he was "rolled on a gurney," he wouldn't be alive. And that when they wheeled him out of that same door, it would be into a van that had never seen life like that ambulance did.
Today is the first day that I have had a decent cry. After I went up the steps to Daddy's apartment, I walked to the door and looked inside. Empty. I was imagining Daddy standing in his little kitchen whipping up some good eats. I wanted so badly to hear him say, "Come on in, Little Lauren!" or "Hey shug, how was your day?" Nothing but silence and emptiness. Exactly what I feel on the inside. I sat on his deck and let the tears come. That deck. Once filled with flowers and birdfeeders and comfy chairs. The deck that once held life and good memories is now empty. The only thing that occupied it today was a girl crying, lonely, and wishing to God that her Daddy was still there.
Pray for us. My entire family is struggling. So are Daddy's co-workers. People say it will get easier, but I have my doubts.
I will write again. Hopefully, it won't be so sad and somber. Writing is good for me though. Thank you all for reading and praying.
Much love,
Lauren
