I was thinking about my Dad again today. Today I had the realization that he must have gone through alot of pain before he died. Jamie says nobody reads my blog, so if that's true I guess it doesn't really matter if I give details about my Dad's illness.
My Dad was an alcoholic. He had been drinking since he was a teenager. He got sicker and sicker, my parent's marriage failed because he wouldn't give it up and it madee them both crazy.

And then he got sick.

He was living in his apartment, not able to eat or really sleep and he was drinking one bottle of water a day and thinking he was getting enough hydration. People saw him getting sick. No one did anything. When I look at the last picture taken of him, his driver's liscence- I'm shocked at how sick he looked. His skin was gray, his eyes were blank, he looks really sick.

Someone finally took him into hospital in January. His belly was so distended from the back up of toxins that instead of the norm al 34 waste size he wore, his friend had to buy him a size 40 pant to get him into the hospital. He was really sick when I saw him.
But then he was getting better and better and was doing physio and things were looking up. But his liver never regained function, neither did his kidneys after tons of dialysis.
My Dad died of kidney and liver failure due to alcoholism.

But what struck me today was how hopeless he must've been in his apartment, he was sick for at least 2 months before he went in. He was too weak to leave to even get his mail. He couldn't drive anywhere.

He was alone, in that place. In his easy chair. Which I have now. When I sit in it I feel him there. It's an ugly old thing, but my Dad's presence is there. And when I sit there I don't feel like he's so far away.

I'm sad that my Dad spent his last days like that. Alone in that apartment #304. No one was there to take out his trash or cook for him or anything. Sometimes I feel like I should've been there. I would've been there if I could have. I would've taken him to the hospital alot sooner.

But I didn't.
And I wasn't.
But I just felt a sadness for his lonliness today.
And I wish I could've been there for him then.

So I think I'm finally getting a handle on this grieving thing. I know that my Dad's death has changed me. Thinking back to that day 2 months ago- feels like WAY longer then that- but thinking back to it, everything was such a blurr, and then I had to get back to work to plan a fundraiser and it was jsut go go go go go. So then I stopped. I had a break down every Sunday for the last 2 months. I couldn't even go to church. I t was weird, as soon as the clock struck midnight for a Sunday I would just lose it. But this week it clicked.
I couldn't keep on that way. I would lose my friends. There is balancee between guarding your heart and being a jerk. The people that were with me through that experience and probably the closest ones to me. The people that were there, but at a distance are still worth making time for. The people who have chosen not to be there have been cut and I don't feel bad about it. Life is too short for me to wait for someone else to get "it". I close my eyes and I'm back in that moment, in those moments with my dad and it feels so real to me, I can hear his voice and see his face, he's not far away. He's in my heart. I looked in the mirror the other day and I got lost in my own eyes because I saw him. I have my father's eyes and anytime I want to see him, all I have to do is find the courage to look at myself.
Which leads me to my next point. There isn't really anything that anyone can do to hurt me more then it hurt to lose my dad. Because of this, I have a new found confidence that is beginning to burn in me. I am beginning to become more focused and more sure. I am rising from the ashes and moving towards a light that is brighter then I have ever seen.
I sang at church today and I felt free about it. I didn't worry if I was on key. I diudn't worry if I didn't know the words, I made it up. I jsut didn't "care".
I am changed. But it is growing into a feeling I've never had before.
I know my dad loved me. I know I am broken, and bruised and that if I do choose a life partner, he will be inheriting the "sins of my father". But I'm okay with it. It is what it is, and if I never acomplish anything else in my life, I dealt with that. That one big scary thing I never thought I could do. And it turns out that it wasn't so scary after all.