I've come so close over and over during the past few months trying to decide if I was ever going to write again here or not. Sometimes, I feel like I'm definitely not one of the "cool kids" of blogging - I don't go to BlogHer, I don't have advertisements, I don't win any awards, I don't make thousands of dollars blogging. No, in the land of the Bloggers Who are Too Cool, I'm the band geek with my long hair caught in my braces. I've gotta go, my mom's here in her paneled 1977 station wagon to pick me up from practice, 'kay?
But you know, that's okay. I miss writing. Sometimes I need to just have a little verbal vomit even if I'm the only one who reads it or "gets it". I've come to the realization that it's okay to blog just for me...and hell, it's way cheaper than therapy.
I really could have used it these last few months, although reading about death and dying is probably not something most people want to do.
My sweet, precious hero - my Daddy - is gone.
The long and the short of it - the cancer got very aggressive. The medicine - or maybe the cancer - made him so sick he couldn't eat. He was up and walking up until the day before he went in the hospital. One week there, four weeks in the nursing home, and he slipped away.
The last three weeks have been hard as hell. At times, I find myself walking in circles, not sure what direction I'm headed in. I try to keep my shit together for Monkey Man and Joey, try to look like I have it all together at work, and then something hits me and I dissolve into a wretched, sobbing mess. I have really good days, and then I have really not-so-good days. Not really any middle ground there, huh?
That's okay, too. I have to be gentle with myself. It's not every day you lose the man who has been your hero since day one. I miss him like crazy. I catch myself, at times, thinking that I need to email him a funny joke or call him to ask how his yard is looking. And then I know, unless Verizon has cell phone coverage in Heaven, that's not going to be very easy.
It's not to say that the entire experience was without some moments of levity. We had a crazy cast of characters at the nursing home, we had all kinds of monkey wrenches thrown into the planning of the funeral, we had interesting family dynamics and not to be totally forgotten, the infamous incident of me trying to make the dog puke in my mother's front yard. Oh yes sir, there were some good times to be had.
So bear with me - I am hoping that sprinkled through here and there, I'll be able to recall some of the good and bad that happened and get it down so I don't forget. So Monkey will be able to read it one day when he's old enough to really understand. So that maybe my heart will feel a little better.
Now if you'll excuse me, tomorrow is the first day of school and I forgot to get a damn book cover for Monkey's math book. I need to get my shiz together and make a run to Office Max.