Deconstructing Jen

Missing Grandpa

There are some days when being a mom sucker punches me and knocks me to my knees and makes me wonder how if I really have the stuff it takes to do this.

Today was one of those days.

Evey, Ben and I sat down for a nice quick breakfast this morning after Chris left for work.

Me: Evey, do you want Kix or a cereal bar?
Evey: Cereal bar and milk, please.
Me: Ben do you want Kix or a cereal bar?
Ben: Nama Ga I duoa nay. MLK! (meaning milk which he clearly says with no 'i')
Me: Alright, Kix and milk for you to, little man.
Evey: Mama, You know what? Sometimes Grandpa's get sick and go to the hospital and don't come home. That makes me sad.
Me: *has a heart attack* Yes, sweetie I did know that. It makes me sad too.
Evey: I miss Grandpa.
Me: *rapidly and not very conspicuously fighting the tears that I will not be able to hide* I miss Grandpa too, sweetie. What do you miss about him?
Evey: I miss taking walks, and picking up sticks, and playing play dough, and chasing each other around.
Me: Oh, sweetie, I know he misses doing those things with you too. He loved you very much.
Evey: I loved him too. Can Zoey come over today?

I'm not sure I'm equipped to deal with this.

 

remembering dad

I've been struggling with this post since last night. The things I've wanted to say have been running through my mind almost constantly and catching me off guard at the most awkward moments, a few even causing me to break down in tears. I'm not one to dwell on the past or what is unchangeable but there are some things that can't be denied and the absence of my dad is one of them. It's been almost a surreal day. One moment I'm drowning in memories and the next, well, the next I could be cracking up at Ben's orneriness or Evey's crazy antics.

After thinking it over for quite some time I decided that I just wanted to share some memories of my Dad.

I remember:

• endless games of catch in the front yard...some completed under great amounts of duress on my part
• how you insisted I would not throw like a girl
• how you were always up for flips or wrestling in the front yard
• picking more green beans then should ever be necessary at Roger's farm, it's a miracle I can still eat them
• how you had such a huge heart
• how your love always had no bound or conditions
• how proud you always were of me
• how hard you worked
• that old busted white Ford truck with the blue hood that had safety glass chunks in the crack of the seat and in the floor board
• the old red VW Rabbit you loved so much
• endless piles of Pepsi uniforms that smelled like transmission fluid
• how there wasn't anything you couldn't do yourself
• how you used to argue with me and how hard I used to argue back and how you never held it against me
• how you never met a stranger
• how convicted you were that every kid, no matter how rough a life they had been dealt, deserved a chance at a better one though God
• how much you loved Ben and Evey
• that you were always so afraid you might break them when they were tiny babies
• how cute it was that you tried to hide how sad it made you that Evey was afraid of your big booming deep voice
• how Evey loved to go on your famous walks collecting twigs, leaves and rocks along the way
• how you never questioned the outcome when Ben made his terrifying debut into the world
• how you taught me to love books and the magical worlds they can create
• how much I loved you though I never could bring myself to say it enough

I could fill enough lines for 1,000 posts and still not have everything written down. I miss you Dad, more than you'll ever know.

Happy Birthday Dad

Today is Dad's birthday. We got together at my brother's house to have lunch and cake and hang out. It was wonderful. Billy made stuffed pork chops, twice baked potatos and salad. Mom made cake. It was all delicious. Evey showed off her Webkinz to Billy, Mom schooled me at Wii bowling...twice (That one still stings a bit), Bill put up his pop up tent fort for him Evey to play in. Dad would have had a fantastic time. It's what he always loved about family get togethers - good food, lots of fun, and everyone together.

Happy Birthday Dad. We miss you.

Gone

I don't have the words to describe the service Saturday but it's done. It was everything Dad would have wanted it to be with the exception of the river of tears. There were so many people, so many people that dad touched in one way or another. There were 1,000's of stories, mostly funny as Dad had a knack for being more than a little child like. The minister was a family friend and knew exactly what Dad would have wanted, his stories were happy and funny and even drew more than a few laughs. The music was touching and perfect. I don't think that it could have gone better. Afterward nearly half the crowd jammed themselves into Mom and Dad's house for a monstrous amount of food, coordinated by my wonderful mother in law. In short it was absolute perfection.

Now that everything is done I feel at a loss as to how to move on. I feel blindsided every minute by the holes that are left in my life and the holes that my children don't know are being left in theirs. I feel the need to swoop my mom up and take her into my house like she is my child rather than my mother. I know it takes time, I know that. But for now it seems like time has stopped and all that I see around me is world I no longer know or understand.

Jen

Numb

I'm numb. I feel so much right now that I don't think I can feel anything at all. It's been such a long horrific day that I don't know where to start but I desperately need to dump things out of my brain so I am going to do it here. ***This is going to be very emotional.***

I woke up at 6:48 am with a phone from my mom. "Can you have Chris come over? Your dad fell in the bathroom and I can't get him up." "Okay, he'll be right there." I'm thinking okay, Dad's having a rough morning, he's not been feeling well the last couple of days and he just needs a little help. Chris is up and out the door in record time. 5 minutes  later mom calls again. "Has Chris left yet?" "Your dad isn't responding to me, should I call 911?" "YES!!!" So she calls 911. I'm up out of bed, call my brother, run to the shower, get the kids up, call the sitter, we are going to the hospital again. Chris calls, "Jen you need to hurry. He's really bad." Call SIL, in one breath tell her I'm bringing the kids over, I'll be there in 5 minutes. Call sitter back and tell her change of plans because SIL is closer. I quite nearly throw the kids out the door at my SIL's and speed to the hospital. Chris, may saint of a husband, is looking for me. Mom is in the waiting room, she's a wreck. We wait about 15 minutes and they take us back, but not to dad. They take us to 'the room'. My brother's not their yet. Mom is getting more hysterical. The doctor comes in "I'm sorry. He didn't make it." And the world comes to a screeching halt. The only sound is the most horrific scream I've ever heard. It will be in my memory forever.

He's gone. My larger than life, never met a stranger, ever so eccentric dad is gone. Gone so young. How do I this? How do I feel the pain and make it stop at the same time? How do I hold my baby on my lap and not erupt with tears because she will only have faint memories of her grandfather? How do I hold my mom's hand and tell her it will be okay? Is it going to be okay? How will I make it through another holiday without him? Another birthday? How??? And damnit, WHY??? Why after he fought so hard to get well? Why after he endured so many horrific illness and surgeries? Why now, when he was getting better? Why did it have to be his time?

I can't wrap these emotions in a pretty package. I feel so much sadness and anger and helplessness that I almost feel like I can't control it. The world is upside down. It's inside out. I can't stop the insane thoughts and above all I can't sleep.

Jen