My Father Died and I Cried

Flashback to Florida in January.  I decided to have a new port (they call it a "Life Port" there) installed because the nurses were having a hard time with my veins, sticking me in the back of my hand several times for each treatment. My veins have a reputation among chemo nurses for being very good at getting out of the way when a needle is pointed at them.  I tried caressing them, massaging them, warming them and even talking to them, but they seem to have a mind of their own.

It was a stressful week.  On Monday, we drove to the surgeon's office only to find out that my appointment had been cancelled and they had called our home phone (in MI) to notify me, then I cried when they said the surgeon would not be available again until the following week (oh no - not ANOTHER treatment with multiple needle-sticks!).  This body has had more than its share of needle-sticks, but an IV needle in the back of the hand tends to evoke a very unpleasant sensation - pain!  One of the ladies there took pity on me and said I could see the OTHER surgeon the following day, so I jumped at the opportunity.

Then, on Tuesday, I saw the surgeon in the morning, then we (George and I) spent the remainder of the day at the hospital, filling out paperwork, being interviewed, recalling my medical history (again), and having a couple of tests, blah, blah, blah.

Exhausted already, on Wednesday, we spent the morning at the hospital, having port-installation surgery - and I joyfully had my LAST needle-stick in the back of my hand (yay!).  I slept in the car on our way back to our FL condo (about 45 minutes), had something to eat, and went to bed.  Later, I got up, sat down, fell asleep, and went back to bed.  I had "the Michael Jackson" drug (propiphol?) for my surgery and heard that they had to give me a second dose cuz I just wouldn't hold still.  I asked if I could take some home with me, but I guess they don't do that.  Then, I couldn't seem to stay awake, so I made up for 16 years of insomnia in one day/night!

Then, on Thursday, I had a chemo treatment and they used my new port.  I apparently have a little neuropathy in my upper chest as I never felt any pain from this surgery or from any needle-sticks in the port itself (yay!).  While driving home from the chemo treatment, George and I were looking forward to resting from our stressful week, and then the phone rang.

It was my dear brother and mother calling to say that Dad had just died.  It was not a surprise.  It was a blessing because I'm sure it was a GREAT relief to him to be out of that body that had imprisoned him for so long.  They say grief comes in waves...I just rode one of those waves.

In my imagination, I immediately saw my Dad as a young man turning cartwheels and jumping for joy because he was feeling so happy to free of that body.  

On Friday, we started our 2-day journey from FL to MI for the funeral.  I talked to Erin, our daughter, who was about to start nursing school.  She decided that she (and her dear husband Jeremy) attending her grandfather's funeral was more important than her first two days of nursing school.  We are very proud of her and grateful for that.  She and Jeremy are, indeed, a blessing to us.  They were there with me when my Dad was in the hospital last August when all I could do was cry when I was with him.

Life in recent years has taught me that it's okay to cry. Crying is a very human thing and I usually feel better afterward.  As a child, I was taught NOT to cry or express emotion of any kind.  I recently read something about how we lost more soldiers in Afghanistan (in a particular time period) to suicide than to enemy fire.  This did not include things like drug overdoses and local violence.  The article also said that emotional detachment is part of the military training.  Think about it - what must you say to our children (young men and women) to get them to believe that killing other people is okay?  I cried for all of the soldiers on our planet who have been "convinced" to believe that their cause is worth killing for and worth dying for.  

And, I cried for my Dad who was only 17 years old (a child) when he went into the army in WWII. He was wounded and earned a Purple Heart when the man who was walking in front of him stepped on a land mine and died. He walked across Germany in the snow and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. 

Much of that training stuck with him for the rest of his life - it helped to form who he was in relation to the world.  Two things I realized about him... He ALWAYS followed the rules without question...I think when he was a young soldier, that is one of the things that kept him alive.  His very life depended on him following orders without question. I spoke to him about this in the last year of his life and he agreed with me. He also learned that emotional detachment "thing". Emotional detachment seemed to be a way of life for many people of that generation - and, consequently, my generation.  

At the funeral, in my imagination, I could see my Dad sitting on the edge of the coffin, a young man, joking around and saying, "What's the big deal?  I'm doing fine!" So, for a moment, I smiled while others were crying.

After the funeral, we returned to Florida and I thought of Dad often when walking on the beach and I would talk to him.  I remembered him telling me to check the direction of the wind before you start walking so you can end your walk with the "wind at your back".  I knew that he was with me when the wind was at my back.  After a couple of weeks, I found myself feeling angry with him for not teaching me about emotional expression. I told him he owed me something for that...he had to walk on the beach with me and talk to me. At the time, I was reading the book THE JOURNEY HOME by Lee Carroll and it helped me to see, very clearly, that Spirit sees things very differently than we humans do.  The day after I finished reading it, I found myself thanking my father for being the perfect father for me...it was exactly what my spirit had signed up for to learn  in this lifetime. Some things I was destined to learn for myself - from my own experience.

This is not at all what I started to write.  I guess I have some catching up to do.  More coming very soon....