Something Different

I wanted to post about something a little different than I have in the past. I wanted to share some of my dreams, and how I am beginning to see how I can realize them. While I want to do this though, I don't want to share too much...but I figure this is my blog and I can write whatever I want. 

So as of the past week I've really started to look at my future and what I want out of it. I'm majoring in business right now, getting my associates degree at NWTC. I finally think that this is the right place for me and I am very happy with my class. I also decided to take photography starting next semester...and I've got a few ideas of what I would like to do with those. Now I know I want to be a mother at some point once I find the right guy and finish school and all that and I want to be able to be there all the time or as much as possible for my kids, I don't want them to have to be in daycare. So while I kinda mold some of my dreams around that, I don't let it hold me back. So at this point I'm thinking I could do a small photography business while staying at home...or maybe own a small boutique...I've also really liked the idea of being in a partnership with one of my friends and owning a juicing franchise! These are all just crazy ideas floating around in my head. 

Now I totally get if you all don't care and don't see a point to all this but I do. Ever since I started to look to the future and at doing things for MYSELF I've been so much happier. I've been able to really see a future for myself and my mom, felt a little more in control...and finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel kinda like my dad is helping me to realize all this..and to realize that I can push myself to achieve my dreams, and that they aren't stupid! That maybe one day I will live in a suburb of san diago or somewhere in South Carolina and own a juicing franchise with my friend Dakota and maybe I already know my husband and maybe this is all a lot closer than I think...but for once in my life this isn't a dream that I will put behind me. I want to chase these dreams and I want to achieve them and have more dreams! 

So I totally realize that this post is kinda all over the place and I apologize but I've felt more alive this past week than I have in awhile...and maybe that's because I'm realizing that while my dad is gone, life moves forward and I am still allowed to dream...and that my fate is not sealed. I love the quote, "some of your best days havnt even happened yet" because it's so true...I've got so much life to look forward to and dream about that it's hard not to start to feel happier. 

Dear Future Babies, This is who your "Pop" was...

So I'm taking a break from my boring business law and ethics homework, to do a post that I've been wanting to do for sometime now, but I havn't had the time, or the energy, or I just couldn't find the words. I guess there is no better time or place than when you are in the middle of notes for an exam due Monday and at Barnes and Noble. Heres to hoping I don't cry, and if I do, I don't freak out everyone around me! (Sorry in advance Matt).

Dear Future Babies,
     I wanted to write you (how ever many there are) a letter to tell you about your Pop, my Dad. I don't yet know when you will be born, whether your boys or girls, or what your names are. I don't know who your Dad or my husband is, where we live, what I do for a job, nothing; that's all 5, 10, 15 years down the road. What I do know is that right now, as I write this, it is 2014 and it is exactly 10 weeks and 1 day since your Pop has passed. Pop had melanoma, the most dangerous type of skin cancer, and it killed him in less than four months (so don't complain when I slather you in sunscreen...there's a reason!) and took away from me the strongest, kindest, most gentle and compassionate man I have known up to this point (sorry future hubby, while I may or may not know you now, it's the truth!). I'm going to try to write down as much as I can without turning into mush, because it is so important that you know at least a little about how important and amazing my Dad was.
  Your Pop, my Dad, was born on July 30th 1942. Your Great Grammy found out she was pregnant with him the day before pearl harbor was bombed and a couple days before our country entered WWII. It was a scary time, but that July little boy with dark curly hair and the happiest, most laid back personality was born.  Pop grew up, he had a brother, your great uncle Bob, never finished college but was successful non the less. He also served in the military during the vietnamn era! He later moved to Nebraska and then Green Bay WI, where he met your Nana (Grandma? Gram? What do you guys call her?) They met at First United Presbyterian Church of Depere, where your great grandparents, and later your Pop and Nana (and hopefully your dad and I!) were married. They got engaged after a short 6 weeks when Pop got back from visiting great grammy and granppy, when Nana made him a spaghetti dinner. Not even 6 months later, they married, on June 8th 1991. Pop said he couldn't wait any longer, because he had already waited his entire life for his soul mate. There is something to be said about that by the way. My parents had probably the most unique and loving relationship I have ever witnessed. They NEVER faught, and they never left the "honeymoon" stage, everyday they fell more in love with each other. They truly were the perfect couple and soul mates.
    After a couple years, I was born. On September 10th 1993, your Nana and Pop welcomed their only child into the world, Pop was so excited he didn't remember hearing if I was a boy or a girl. Months and years filled mostly with bliss followed...we had our good times and bad times, but through it all we had our love, and our family. That was a big thing, our family. Pop loved me and your Nana SO much. Nothing was ever gone without, and we could live worry free. He drove Nana to work everyday, walked me to school everyday. He put up with Annie and later Poppy...he helped with homework, was patient, and had the most amazing reading voice ever. I honestly cannot say enough about him. The Cubs were (and still better be!) very important, and although he never saw them win a world series (which I hope they've done by now!) he never lost faith in his cubbies. The packers were cool too, but sports always took a backseat to your Nana and I. We had dinner together almost every night, sometimes my friends joined us! They all too loved Pop, and even saw him as a second father. Pop was just one of the few people in the world who cared about everyone, who was kind to everyone and had the most accepting and loving heart. He was always there, even when he wasn't feeling the best...he was there 110%. When your Nana got sick, he was there. Even when she broke her ankle right after he was diagnosed with cancer, he took care of her completely until she could get around, and that was when he started to go downhill.
   I'm not going to go into the story of your Pop's cancer, because that's not who he was. It weakened him and took his life even before he took his final breath. But he was so brave through the entire thing. And even when he was too weak to stand...he still faught. But not for himself, for me and your Nana. He didn't want to leave us unless we were going to be okay. Once he realized this, he passed peacefully.
   A week after your Pop died, we had the funeral and there is something to be said about him just in the amount of people who showed up. We filled THREE LARGE ROOMS with people who KNEW him, and LOVED him...and they all said the same things, that he was so kind, his smile lit up the room, etc. etc. etc. (I'm starting to cry in the middle of barnes and noble kids, so take pity on me).
   I'm going to cut this short, and probably add to it or write another letter down the road, but know this. Your Pop loves each and every one of you. He is with you and me and your Dad and your Nana everyday. He is proud of each of you, and if he could be here with you I know he would be.
Love,
Mama
(ps. it's really weird signing something as a mother...these kids aren't even conceived yet (and probably won't be for a few years) and I love them and am heart broken because they won't get to meet their Pop)

One of the most painful things...

When people prepare you for or teach you about grief, they teach you the stages, what to expect, and how to help yourself get through it. What they fail to tell you about is what is quite possibly one of if not the most painful part about it all...at least for me. It's something no one can prepare you for but I know anyone who is going through the process will at one point, probably multiple times, experience this. It's horrible, almost as horrible as the moment your mom or sibling or grandparent or friend or dad leave you...it's having to remind yourself that they aren't here and realizing that it happened, that this isn't a horrible dream, and that they really are gone. I can't find the words to describe how truly painful it is. It seems so easy to describe but it's not...it's horrible and heart wrenching and breaks me every time it happens which at this point is daily multiple times. I don't think it will ever stop either. I just hate it...I hate that when I remind myself that my dad is gone, that it's not a dream, that it's real...that until I die I won't get to hear his voice, his laugh...I won't get to experience everything that a daughter should get to experience with her dad...I hate that a year ago this wasn't happening, that a year ago everything was "normal"...I hate that I have to remind myself that any of this happened at all. 

I'm not ungrateful, but I need you to know this.

I want to start by saying that I have amazing, caring, and supportive friends; without them I would not be doing as well as I am with everything. I am grateful for every single word of advice, every long talk, and every bit of love I get from them. Now in saying what I am about to say I am not angry, I am not ungrateful, I am not telling any one of you that you've said anything wrong whatsoever, what I'm saying is what I'm feeling and hoping it will help you all understand a bit more how I feel.
I have heard a few specific pieces of advice from multiple people, multiple times, ever since my Dad got sick...these include:

• "Pray. Hand it all to God"
• "Don't let your emotions get the best of you."
• "Don't be mad at God/God can handle it."

Now I'm not saying these aren't supportive to people who are grieving, what I am saying is they are not in the least bit helpful to me, and tend to make things hurt a bit more, mostly because I can't explain it all without bursting into tears, and because people don't understand, but I'll get to that later.

For the first and third things listed above, I just need to say, I AM mad at God, I am FURIOUS! I don't CARE if Satan gave him cancer, I don't CARE about any of that! God could have healed my Dad. God could have decided to not take my Dad. I am going to be angry at him for as long as I want. I know it will go away but to those who don't know what it's like to lose your father when you are 20...don't tell me otherwise. Just say you understand, that you know, and have that be that. I love the support, I don't want your opinion, I don't want to be told what to feel...Also, I don't want to pray to God. I don't want to talk to the one who took my Dad from me. For now, the only person I "pray" or talk to is my Dad and quite frankly that's good enough for me. 

Secondly, don't tell me not to let my emotions take over. Don't tell me not to be angry, to be anxious, to be upset...I am allowed to feel this way! Sure it may have been 71/2 weeks ago that my dad died but that is not that long! Everyone's lives went back to normal except for mine and my mom's after the funeral...ours is forever changed. We have to learn to live without a vital part of our lives, and if that includes, pain, anger, frustration...then so be it. 

And not that it is anyone's business, but incase you are thinking that I'm "faking" this (I have heard that) or that I am "seeking attention" or that I am just not "working hard enough" I have talked to a psychologist, I have talked to grief counselors, and I have talked to people who have gone through similar things and everything I am going through is COMPLETELY NORMAL. 

So what I guess what I am trying to say, is I wish more people understood. I know you all mean well, but it doesn't help when you tell me these things. Just let me be mad. Let me be upset. Let me do what I need to do to heal and if you can't handle it, then stay away. Because I am not going to hold back what I am feeling and what I need to do so you are happier or more comfortable. There is nothing enjoyable about grief, about losing your father at 20, about needing to care for your mother at that same age, about living a life that is so different than what you have ever lived before...it all sucks. So bare with me now and know that if I am emotional towrads you, that means that I trust you. Realize that I will get better, I won't always be like this. But for now, my heart hurts, my body hurts, my mind hurts, and I am missing my father more than ever.

My Heart Hurts

Ever since my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I've repeated that phrase to myself in my head, but never aloud, not being sure how else to describe the feelings associated with your world being (negatively) turned upside down. From the moment that I got a call from my dad, saying they found masses on his brain, I KNEW something was wrong, and the phrase immediatally entered my mind. Now, just over 5 months later, and 6 weeks and almost 6 days after my Dad's death, that phrase is still a common one in my mind.

In saying that "my heart hurts" I don't mean my physical heart that pumps blood and keeps me alive, I mean the one that holds my Dad in it. The heart that holds every memory I have with him. The heart that holds the longing feeling to hug him, talk to him, and just be with him. That is the heart that I'm talking about. That heart hurts more than I think it ever has in my entire life. That heart has been ripped out and stomped on by this asshole we know as metastic melanoma. That heart has been put through a blender filled with radiation and Yervoy (the treatments my dad received). And lastly, that heart was almost forever broken because I had to watch my dad die.
On the day that my dad died, I lost a part of my heart that I will never get back. I lost the part that found comfort in the arms of her father, the part that dreamed about my wedding day, about my children playing with their "Pop"...none of that will ever happen. All of those hopes, those dreams, they will not ever happen, and that is the part that kills me. Of course my children will know who their Pop was, they will know everything about him. They will know of his kindness, his passion for life, his faith in God and Jesus, his love and enduring patience for the Cubs and the Packers (mostly the Cubs) and most of all they will know how much their mother loved him. But what kills me is that I won't get to see my dad hold them, play with them, do everything he did with me as a child with his grandchildren. I won't get to watch him grow old with my mom, and watch the love they share continue to grow.
I think this bothers me so much because I know what my children will go through, and what they will not know. I've grown up without a grandfather, and I always wanted to know him, but obviously never had a connection with him like I did my other grandparents and it is absolutely devastating to me to know that my children will never have that connection to my dad.
And lastly, the part of my heart that has broken the most is the one who sees my mom in so much pain. I can't find the right words to help her and I know I never will. I cannot comfort her, I cannot help her, I just have to be there, and usually that isn't enough. I hate that she has to go through this, that she feels the way she does, that her heart is hurting too...
With time our hearts will heal, but always missing parts that were filled by my dad. I guess it just makes you that much grateful for what you do have in life, and know that nothing is permanant, and never to take one single day for granted.
I know I'm all over the place, and being super cheesy but that's how I'm feeling tonight and don't think I need to explain myself :) Hope everyone is having a good night!

Have you ever been so mad...

Have you ever been so mad that you couldn't think straight? That you wanted to cry but couldn't find the tears? That you wanted to let out what was tearing you apart inside...but couldn't figure out how to? So you end up pushing it back, letting it sit and sit and sit until something pushes you over the edge and you just can't STAND it anymore!? Well that's how I feel and what happened today. 

I went to church with two of my best friends...near the beginning of the service there was a song I don't remember what it was called or what the words even were but it made me SO MAD. It talked about praising God, and how wonderful He is...and all I could think was... no. He is NOT wonderful!!! He took my Dad from me...He has taken away a vital part of my life and left me (and my mom) here to figure out what the hell to do. With each passing day things get harder, the pain is deeper, and you realize more and more that they really aren't coming back, ever. And that is HIS fault! It is HIS fault that my mom cries every day and that she has to go through the rest of her life without her husband. It is HIS fault that I won't get my father daughter dance at my wedding. It is HIS fault my children will never know their grandfather. And sitting in church today, hearing everyone sing and praise Him I couldn't stand it...it felt like every word of each song was mocking me...like every person in that room was mocking me...like He himself was shoving it in my face that my dad is dead and I won't see him again and I get to live with that now. 

Now I realize how crazy and stupid this sounds, and I've known people that have felt this way but never understood it...and that's exactly it. You don't understand it until you are standing here in my place. Until you're 20 years old and your dad dies right infront of you...until the strongest man who was ALWAYS there wastes away to almost nothing right before your eyes in a matter of weeks, until it is YOUR job to care for your grieving mother...you aren't allowed to judge me, or tell me how to feel. You aren't allowed to tell me I'm wrong. You aren't allowed to tell me that this is "God's plan" cause I honestly don't give a crap about "God's plan" anymore, it's stupid. I want my Dad, more than anything else I want my Dad. But I can't see him, or be with him because God decided to take my Dad away. Sorry but I'm not seeing all the wonder that everyone else sees in Him. Not sure if I ever will and honestly? That doesn't even bother me. 

"I've Seen Joy and I've Seen Pain..."

More lyrics to a song that I cannot seem to get enough of. Each and every word in the song, "Broken Hallelujah" by The Afters seems to touch me. Incase you've never heard the song, the basic message is that we've all been through good and bad, but you need to hand that all to god and give him your life...

In listening to it probably 70 billion times now, I can't say I've completely handed my life to God yet...I'm working on it but still not there. But what this song has done is help me come to terms with this being part of God's plan for not only my and my mom's lives but also my Dad's...

Up until recently I was SO angry at god...why MY dad, why did it have to happen to me and my mom, why him, there are MILLIONS of people who deserve to die more than him...he was kind, gentle, and probably the best father and husband anyone could ask for and then some...but I think that's part of the reason why he had to go...he was too good and he had finished his mission on earth. This thought has helped me begin to not be so mad, to realize that it's not because god believed that my dad "deserved to die" no it's because he needed him back...I'll get to see him again sometime, but until then I'm handing myself to God and believing that this is part of his plan for my family and someday it will make more sense. Someday it will hurt less. Someday I will see my dad again...