The End is Coming

I feel like I am in a dream. I truly feel like someone is going to come in and tell me this was all a joke and he is fine and it was just for fun. Or something. It feels completely surreal. I was staring at the wall yesterday thinking "this can't possibly be my life."

Dad is in the final stages. It happened so fast. When we started hospice the nurse was really nice and said that he would deteriorate slowly and then suddenly it would be a drop drastically. And that's what happened. He dropped. Now he is lying in bed struggling to breathe. The nurse said it is his brain unable to make his lungs work anymore. That slowly he'll just stop breathing at some point. I'm watching him right now and every four or five breathes he'll stop and I'll stop and wait for him to breathe again. It's an awful waiting game.

I can't seem to move. Getting up to go use the bathroom or get something to eat is time away from him that I just don't want to take. I can't take. I can't leave him. I'm paralyzed in this chair.

I can't believe that this is it. She said he won't last the week. And I want to believe her. I mean, on the one hand I want him around forever. But this isn't him. He's unresponsive and not really here. This isn't dad. He's still in there mentally, but even that is up for debate. Who knows how much he is awake or asleep. I know that hearing is the last thing to go so I know that he will be able to hear us for the final days. But I've said everything. I am at peace with where we are.

I don't want him to go. At all. But I know he loves me and I know he is proud of me. He knows that I love him and am proud of him. There is nothing unsaid. There is nothing undone. I am okay with when he decides to leave us. Is that awful to say? Awful to think? He has fought such a good fight and I just want him comfortable and happy.

No idea what's going to happen after he goes. If he passes this week I'm going to head to LA for the weekend just to sleep and regroup. Then come back and clean up his office and put the memorial together. Nothing is in place at all for the business side of it. And I'm angry about that. He didn't leave a will. He didn't sign a power of attorney. As his next of kin I will be able to do most everything neeed, but I don't want to fight his girlfriend and I have a feeling I'm going to have to. I just want this to be done so I can mourn and live my life. I'm done being around her. I'm done living in her house. And yet we have reached a point of understanding and there is a sick part of me that will miss her. For all the shit she has done and all the bitchiness we have lived through together, I will miss her and her crazy ways. Because he loves her. And she is part of him.

I miss him so much. I think back to the past two months and the things I am going to miss are astounding. Watching 24. Him sitting there trying to decide what movie he wanted to watch. Watching X-Men and Batman Begins and MIB and Austin Powers over and overbefore we got television in the room. Eating milky ways. Our morning walks. Laughing. Sitting out in the garage playing nintendo while he sat in the sun. Talking about life and the choices I have to make. His smile. His laugh. His ability to moderate the tension in the house. His love. Holding his hand as we sat and watched TV. Him rolling out and checking the mail every day. The smile he would get when a new netflix would come in. The look on his face when we would reach the end of an episode and he would say "dude" and I would ask what was next and he would say "the next one. Let's get on it." Watching Gilmore Girls every morning and then talking about it. Him being worried about Rory and Logan so I would tell him that they end up together and everyone is happy. Talking with him about Alias and what was going on because he couldn't follow the plot line. Trips to Jimboys Tacos and Leatherbys Ice Cream. Him telling me he loves me, out of the blue. Him reaching up to get a hug. Him holding on tight when we did hug. His gripping my hand as we sat together.

There is so much. So very very much. I just want to remember how it feels to have him alive next to me. He is a good man. Kind and loving. The world is losing one of the good ones.

The tears won't stop

Last week the tears started. I was sitting at my computer in the middle of the night, playing a game online and listening to dad breathe. Sitting up to take care of him when he needs. Relishing the time I have with him, even if he's asleep through most of it. And suddenly I started crying. Not sobbing, no hiccuping or heaving. Not the kind of crying I have done only twice since his diagnosis. Not the kind of crying where you can feel your heart breaking and can't get into a small enough ball in an effort to make the pain go away. Just these tears that started to fall cleanly from my eyes. Nothing triggered it- they just started to fall. And they wouldn't stop. Haven't stopped since. Even as I sit here typing this there are tears running down my face.

Little things tip them off. Sometimes it's a memory. Today I remembered how he used to sing to Emily when she was a baby. He would sing "So talk to me....like babies do." I thought it was the cutest thing in the world. Thought about the endless dinners where we played grossout in an effort to make someone lose their milk through their nose. Or laugh so hard my mother would choke on her corn. Yesterday I thought about the conversations we would have about taking care of myself physically. In high school when I was dancing a lot he and I would talk for hours about not starving myself and remembering that I was an athlete. Sometimes we would wake up before mom and Cristin and we would go on a run around the neighborhood before the sun came up. Then return home and split a smoothie with a bagel. The day before that I had a flash of when I had TMJ my junior year of high school. The doctor told us we had to keep it iced. I remember sitting on the floor of the living room, leaning against the couch with my head wrapped in an ace bandage like a brain patient because my dad said it would be easier than holding the ice up to my face. We laughed at me for hours. There are so many good memories to pull from. And for that I am so truly blessed.

Sometimes its thinking about the future. The things he won't be around for. This christmas. My wedding. I never wanted a wedding day where the prevailing thought was that he was up there watching and would be so proud. I want him to be there with me physically and he won't be. My babies. They'll never know him. He'll never sit with me in the hospital and tell me how proud he is of me. He'll never hold them in those strong hands. He won't be around to call when my son has questions and needs guidance. Or when my daughter is pissed at me and needs to vent to someone, only to have him be able to explain to her where I am coming from because he knows me so well. Emily's passages through life. Her graduations, college life, soccer games, her wedding, her babies, her victories and defeats.

Lately it's the little things that happen every day that I know I am going to miss more than anything. The sound of his voice calling me sweetheart. The look he gets in his eyes when he sees me. The sound of him telling me he loves me. The feel of his skin. The sound of his breathing. The way he lifts up his arms when he wants a hug. Sitting next to him and watching "24". Or "X-Men" for the fiftieth time. Holding his hand and feeling him hold it tight. Knowing that we share a connection I have never had with anyone and will not have again. Just the way he does everything. He is amazing and kind and wonderful. Last night he woke up and we had to change his clothes. In my haste to turn the light on I knocked over my glass of water. After we laid him back down he asked if I needed help with the mess. And he was serious. He worries about everyone but himself. That is amazing. And wonderful.

I love my father more than anything in the world. He is amazing. He is half of me. I am so proud of this man. And so very very sad for what is going to be lost when he goes. Because even if I had everything he had ever owned, in an effort to keep him with me, it's the things that will be forever lost that I mourn the most. One day soon the oxygen machine will be turned off. The bed will be empty. The sheets and towels and pillows will be put away. The carnation shakes will not have to be made. The plastic cups will be thrown away. The pills will be tossed. Everything will end and he will be gone. So the tears come. They've been falling the entire time I have been writing this. They come without warning. They are hard to stop. And maybe they're not supposed to stop.