Some may wonder about the title of this post, getting back into this game called life? This is hard for me to write and will be hard for some to read, but I need to find a way to get myself back into the game and by getting all I am feeling out might just be the way.
It all started that horrible day back in June my Dad was diagnoised with cancer. Not just one type of cancer but three. On that day he was given only six to nine months to live. How could that be possible? How could my big strong and wonderful Dad be only given six to nine months to live? On that day my life changed forever. I spent the next 5 weeks watching him change, seeing this wonderful man being taken over by this evil beast. Why, why was this happening to him, why MY dad. Why my kids Grandpa Ray, it just couldn't be true. I hated God at this point. I hated this person that I was too believe wouldn't give me more than I could handle. That if I followed his path it would lead me into a good life. How could life be good now, the man I looked up to, loved and my children love is being taken from us. What kind of God would do that to a family. God and I have had many issues in the past, why he would take children from their moms, make it so some can't have any or anymore, why let bad things happen to good people. My faith has been questioned to many times and now this, this was just too much.
I was consummed by my Dad. If I could have laid there in bed with him and never leave, I would have. I was lucky enough to have an AMAZING step mom who gave him the best care. I don't know if she will ever know how much she means to me. Because of her my dad was home. When he could he got to talk to his grandkids, tell them he loves them and most times just listen to what they had to say. I got to tell him how much I loved him and and that he was the best dad in the world. And when it was time to tell him that it was okay to go, that we would be okay. I said those words to him because I didn't want him to hang on in this horrible body for us. He needed to go and I know he was scared so I couldn't let him know that when he did go that half of me was going with him.
The day my Dad died is the day I checked out. I wasn't okay, I'm still not okay. I have this sadness that overwhelms me, that takes away any enegry I have. I live with this guilt that I can't get passed. Did he know how much I love him? Did he know that I was so grateful for all he did for me, for my kids? Was I a good enough daughter for him? Was I what he hoped I would be when I grew up? Was I a good enough mother like he would want me to be? These are all the things I wish I knew he knew but most of all, I hope he knew how much I love him.
Here we are, three and a half months since he passed and I still cry millions of times a day. I have questioned everything in my life, my marrige, my role as a mother, my family and my friends. I go through the motions of the day but not really there. The holidays are coming up and I dread them. It was his favorite time of the year and mine as well, but how I can get through them without him here. How can I walk into his house on Thanksgiving and not have him there? Thank goodness for me, I have an amazing family! I know my husband will be my legs when I can't walk inside the door. That my kids will be my strength when I don't have any. That my entire family as a whole will be light on that day when it feels so dark inside.
And because of my kids, husband, family and friends, I need to check back in. I need to believe in this God that I talk to my kids about. When they want to talk about Grandpa Ray in Heaven, I need to practice what I preach. I need to believe that Grandpa is better in Heaven than here at home sick. I need to believe that I can look up into the sky or even at his picture and know that he has my back. He is taking care of me from above and doesn't want me to be sad anymore. That I need to live this life I was given to the fullest because it is only on loan to me. That I need to love my life and all that comes with it, good and bad because he gave it to me.
Thank you to my Davey. I have put him through hell and back these last few months. I have loved him, hated him and left him out. But even in my crazy moments of screaming, yelling and blaming him for things that weren't his fault, he has taken it, sometimes better than others but always says he loves me. I apologize for it after the fact and he knows it isn't him personally but my broken heart talking. There must be a God because he gave me this man who isn't perfect but knows how to love me perfectly.
To my kids, thank you for being you. You make me happy when you talk about Grandpa and how much you love him. Thank you for the hugs when you see me cry and for being the reason that I wake up every morning and get out of bed. And to my Ben 10, you will be 5 soon and all grown up like a big kid, so I hope you have that rocket ship ready to blast off to "Devan" (Heaven) to bring Grandpa Ray home.
To my family, I'm sorry if this hurts you to read. I know my mom & sisters will worry about me but please don't. I will be okay, I'm just sad so so sad. I will be okay!
To my friends, thank you for all your kind words when he was sick and for the love you gave me once he was gone. Your friendship means the world to me and I love being a part of your life and you a part of mine.
This post is full of errors and all over the place but it is my heart doing the talking and me the writing. This is what I had to get off my chest and although very personal it is me and feels good to talk about it.
Love to you all and a very Happy Thanksgiving! I promise to not let 2 years pass before I post again!
