Friday, August 22, 2014

One Year.

It was just after midnight when my phone rang. I looked down to see that it was my step mom calling so I took a deep breath and answered...

"Your Dad's gone" a solemn voice echoed on the other end.

It was the phone call I had been dreading for 2 years.

I told her I would be over shortly and hung up to call my brother whom I had spoken with just hours earlier telling him that he shouldn't waste any time getting over to visit Dad in the morning as something seemed off, I just felt it when I was with him earlier.

"Hey bro...." the silence was deafening.....  "Dad's gone Home"


I laid in my bed for a few moments wanting so bad for this nightmare to be over, to wake up from the dream. A million thoughts at once. I got up and grabbed my glasses and walked out into the living room where my husband was still awake watching tv.

He looked up at me and said "Hey, what are you doing?" and I couldn't bring myself to even utter the words again so I just stood there blankly. "Oh. Oh no." he said as he stood up to hug me. "I'm so sorry babe..."

I grabbed my car keys and told him not to say anything to the kids until I was back later and I drove over to my Dad's house. The whole drive over there I kept thinking of the last time I had seen him, just hours beforehand... my step mom and I had gone to the chapel to make the arrangements for an intimate formal viewing. We had just signed the papers for a cremation service...Literally hours ago.

There was an insane storm going on during all of this, in fact I laughed as I held my Dad's hand earlier that afternoon and said "Dad, do you see all of this? The angels are here for you... I think they've brought all of Heaven with them!". It was quite a sight outside, hail and rain and thunder and wind like I've never seen before... oddly enough the storm centered right over our small community and that was it...

When we returned from the chapel with the final arrangements in place I went up to give my Dad a hug. Though he hadn't opened his eyes more than a handful of times in a week and usually laid there pretty peacefully, I could tell that tonight he was restless. He didn't seem comfortable. I covered him up with a blanket and started to massage his hands when he turned to look at me and started grimacing and making some very odd noises. It startled me and I said "Dad what's wrong, what's the matter?" He did this a few more times as I asked if he needed more pain medicine. He was unresponsive, had been for a couple of days at that point, so I gave him some more morphine and waited a few minutes. He was still acting odd so I gave him another dose and also some Haldol hoping to calm him down, I upped his oxygen a little bit and I sat with him. I kept thinking I just wanted to stay, I almost called my husband and told him that I was going to stay the night on the floor next to him... but I didn't.

He seemed to calm down a little bit over the next hour, his breathing more relaxed, so I turned down the light and gave him a hug "Love you Dad."

I left the house, still uneasy, about 10pm and called my brother who had just arrived in town to let him know to head over first thing in the morning. I knew something wasn't right. I got home and laid down shortly before getting the phone call.

All of that ran through my head over and over again as I drove to his house. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. After all this time, we were finally doing this. The awful phone calls. The late night call to the hospice nurse and coroner. Just utter disbelief. Pain that knocks the wind out of you.

I went inside and up the stairs and saw my Dad laying there, just as I had left him merely hours ago. His head was tilted to the side and his eyes were slightly open... I had to look twice to convince myself that he really was gone. I knelt down beside him and laid my head on his chest and cried. I held his hand and stroked his head in absolute disbelief. Every ounce of my body screamed in agony. "Damn, Dad." "Damn." I sobbed.

I watched my brother walk in and come up the stairs and do the same double-take that I did and shake his head. I stood to hug him and we all cried. We all sat around in silence, all having the same million thoughts racing through our heads.

My step mom said that he had been resting easily, she had kissed him goodnight around 11:00 and got up at midnight to give him his pain medicine and he was gone. I just knew it.... I knew I should have stayed and not gone home but obviously that's not what he wanted. He didn't want me there. It was quite fitting since the past several months had gone in a similar fashion, almost like he was pushing me away, trying to tell me to move on and stop worrying about him... to move on with my life... move on from cancer and all it has taken from us. The whole time I just wanted to be there, as I told him at his first chemo session that I would be... and it's like he was increasingly telling me to stop. Perhaps he had seen, better than I could, all that cancer had taken not only from him but from me, my family... sucked me dry and he wanted me to stop letting it... even that night.

"Enjoy your life Baby Cakes" that's all I could hear as I laid on his chest. "It's time."

I began to help my step mom pick out his suit from the closet and the gray tie he had requested in the last coherent conversation I had with him about 10 days prior. Which shoes would he want... it was all so surreal.

By now the hospice nurse had arrived, she had to confirm that he was really gone and call the doctor to get the death proclamation. She also called the mortuary company that we had decided on only a few hours prior so they could come and get him. When they arrived they were so professional. I mean what an awful job to have, awkward, emotional... horrible but they were wonderful. They let us have our time with him and then got him on the gurney to come down the stairs. What a weird experience, I could hear them struggling to get him down the stairs, afterall it took 5 firefighters to get him up there in the first place trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. I watched them load him into the hearse and close the doors... and that was it.

We all continued to stand around in disbelief and finally left to go to bed. When I got home both of the boys were laying in our bed sleeping. I saw my oldest open his eyes as I climbed in and I just stroked his hair softly, he kept staring at me intently. "Momma... is Grampa in Heaven?" it took my breath away. I couldn't believe that he knew somehow... "Yea baby. He is."

What a day... what a day... I can hardly believe it's been a year. Who am I kidding, I can hardly believe it happened at all. It still isn't real that he's gone. I feel like the Universe gets extra wonky around death anniversaries, like the vibration speeds up because weird things happen. Memories that haven't dawned on you in ages all of a sudden pop up. Things seem out of place... it's hard to explain. It is similar to when he died, like the veil between heaven and earth kept thinning out until he was gone. I feel like it's doing that again. I can feel him close by now, just like in the opposite sense I could feel him drifting away.... which probably makes no sense to anyone but me?

Even the kids have been obviously noticing it, they've been talking a LOT about Grampa lately. My youngest who never really gets emotional about missing him has been crying about missing Grampa every single day for nearly 2 weeks... "You miss your Dad momma?" "Yes baby I miss him" "Me too" :( Out of the blue he is constantly talking about missing him.... I've yet to tell them that it's been a year, not that they could comprehend what that means anyway, or that we're going to have a celebration to commemorate things but they can definitely sense it all.

A year later, it still feels numb. I have to shake my head any time I think about that day, when I think about it all... I remember the initial diagnosis and sitting there dumbfounded as a surgeon still wearing his blue cap explained to us that he had just removed a tumor the size of a cell phone during the cystoscopy. I remember the look of shock on my Dad's face when the same surgeon repeated the findings to my Dad later in his room as the gravity of it all started to hit. I remember the phone call my Dad made to me the day everything took a horrible turn as he told me they'd given him 2-4 years... "So....that's it?!?" long pause "that's it, kid"... how had he found the courage to make that call to me...? I imagine it took the same courage as I needed to call and tell my brother that he was gone.

It's all an epic whirlwind of shittiness really. It still sucks today as bad as it did then. I still have no good answer for my kids when they cry to me about how they miss Grampa. I tell them they can visit him every night in their dreams and they respond "but Grampa doesn't come in my dreams!" how the heck do I fix that...? I tell them that I promise he does come but sometimes it's hard to remember our dreams and they look at me confused and continue to cry. They don't get it and they don't know how to fix the hurt in their hearts anymore than I do. I'm not sure if it'll ever get easier.

So what do you do a year later... the same thing we did that night... put one foot in front of the other, continue to look to the sky and listen intently when he sends his love and reassurance from heaven and "live my life Baby Cakes"

I'm trying Dad.

But I'll always wish you were still here to live it with me.





 
Read more!

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Mexican Family Vacay Babymoon From Hell Part I



We were so looking forward to our trip to Playa, we kept commenting on how excited we were to be doing the all-inclusive thing where we could just show up and not have to think about a single thing. No worrying about where we wanted to go for breakfast and lunch or how much to budget for the day, no carrying money around, etc. Just show up and relax! We've stayed in all-inclusive resorts before and never had a problem (unlike many folks who refuse to travel this way because you're "trapped" if things are bad), in fact our favorite resort was just about an hour away in Cancun, The Royal Solaris. Unfortunately our long awaited trip was anything but relaxing.

Where to even begin with an explanation of our family vacay to Mexico... I guess from the start, at the airport. United Airlines so kindly booked our seating arrangements with the kids sitting on one side of the aisle and us on the other. Thankfully the dudes were behaved enough not to completely ruin the experience for the other travelers seated next to them but it was an exhausting 4 hour flight constantly reaching across the aisle to keep them entertained and happy. Oh yes and we were in the last 2 rows of the plane which meant ALLLL of the people on the plane and flight attendants were walking past our seats to the bathrooms every .4 seconds. In the end, we landed, the kids loved the flight and had a blast so all was fine as we took the shuttle to National rental car where I'd pre-booked our car. I reserved and paid our rental car fee via credit card before we arrived, when we showed up it was a classic bait and switch and we ended up with an extra $150 worth of charges that were MANDATORY yet never once mentioned until we arrived of course, including an 18% tax rate... nice. Got the carseats in the car, and the seatbelts don't lock out to properly secure the carseats... I guess this is normal in Mexico?? Ugh, I was beyond annoyed by now and hot and swollen but we got on the road and drove cautiously down to Playa Del Carmen ready to be done with our long day of travel.

Managed to find the resort, pulled the car up to the front not exactly sure where to go and got out to check in. No one greeted us or pointed us in the right direction... so we just went to the counter and got checked in by a less than enthusiastic person that basically didn't speak to us but just handed me a paper to sign and slapped green wristbands on us and told us someone else would show us the "amenities". At this point, Pepe, our "tour" guide says "welcome to my country" and asks how old we are.... say what?? Yes, he asked us how old we were after finding our name on his chart "for marketing purposes". We ask him whether we should go park the car before our "tour" and he says yes so I stand there with him and he proceeds to ask me what we do for a living as hubby parks... once again whaaaatt?? I started to catch on to what he was doing, he was gathering info for his timeshare presentation that he was attempting to rope us into. You know, you must meet certain qualifications ie. age, income, etc in order to be a good candidate. At this point I got annoyed and stopped answering his questions. We'd been traveling for nearly 12 hours and I just wanted to get him to show us our room and take the kids to the pool as we'd promised all day long. Instead, he sits us down in the lobby, orders over some lemonade and proceeds to show us a magazine page by page of ALLLL the areas in the Mayan Riveria that are pretty and touristy and he then tells us that we should do a tour during our trip to see all about the amenities in the resort (I thought we were already doing the "tour" with him...??). We just nodded along and he tells us that 8:00am is LATE for the resort, that things get moving very early here and says so I'll sign you up for 8 am tomorrow for the tour. Uhhh whaaatt? First off buddy we're on vacation, I'm not waking up "early" for some stupid tour on the first day, what the hell? He asks us "when you book these kinds of vacations what credit card do you usually use? Visa or Mastercard?" I finally look at him and tell him we're done, the kids are ready to get to the room... I was in complete disbelief that this was how they "welcome" guests and I could've slapped someone. Oh one other tid-bit Pepe informs us of is that unless you're one of the Royal Elite guests you only get to eat in the variety of non-buffet restaurants 1 night per 3 nights stay which meant we'd get to dine at an actual restaurant just one time during our trip and all other nights we were stuck with the buffet. WTF? This surely wasn't mentioned on ANYTHING I read, not on our travel reservation, not on the website, nor mentioned at check in... I basically took all of this in and resolved to get the hell out of the lobby, get to the room, and deal with it in the morning. There was no way I was going to accept that, they'd be fixing it for damn sure.

Off to our room to FINALLY relax... supposedly. They gave us a golf cart ride to our building, I was busy taking in the sights and didn't really notice how far we went and even after staring at the map of the resort didn't really grasp how LARGE the place was. I mean the entire resort was huge, it was more than a hike to get to ANYTHING which I started to realize after a day or so when my feet were swollen up like balloons and I was getting contractions every damn time we left the room. We finally started counting the distance after a few days and came to the conclusion that it was nearly a QUARTER MILE from our building to the main center of the resort where most of the restaurants were, the snacks, the main pool, pretty much where you needed to go for anything. The lobby, parking lot and other restaurants were even farther. Oh yea, and our room was on the 3rd floor... with no elevator. Hubbs informed me that it was 34 steps... oiy.

Our "upgraded" room (thanks to a promo I found online) was a junior deluxe suite which meant a living room area and bedroom area with balcony. So the kids had a pull out sofa for a bed and we had a king. I threw the luggage down and sat on the bed getting ready to decide what we wanted to do for dinner since our hopes of hitting the pool were out thanks to Pepe. I immediately noticed some nasty looking "drip" like stains on the headboard of the bed... omg... BOTH sides. Ick. Figured I'd sleep on the opposite end of the bed and once again deal with this all in the morning because I was OVER IT by then.

Off we ventured to our first dinner. A buffet of Mexican fare sounded great so we stopped in to La Mascaras one of the resort buffets and had some pretty decent food. My only real complaint was that the restaurant had no air conditioning. It was hot as hell and humid even at night, so we sweat to death during the meal but at least filled our stomachs, listened to some mariachi, and headed off to explore a little bit of the resort before hiking back to our room to sleep. We'd soon find out that sweating to death and lack of air-conditioning was going to be our life for the next 6 days YAAAYY, literally everywhere. Apparently this is what makes an "Eco-Resort" ..... hmmm.... or something like that I suppose. Oh and another inkling of what was in store for us at the "Eco-resort" was the abundance of mosquito repellant dispensers located every 20 feet around the entire resort like a hospital with hand sanitizer or something. Oh boy... this was day 1. Read more!
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...