The Lottery Ticket

My dad used to buy scratch off tickets and lottery tickets. He did it regularly. I have had a lottery ticket on my shelf since December. It had been in my dad's wallet and I put it on my shelf to check it to see if it was a winner. I finally took it off the shelf to check it the other night. It of course brought me to tears. As I held the little pink slip of paper in my hand, I looked at the date November 21, and there they came, the tears. I could not stop. I just kept crying as I looked at that date. The day after dad's surgery. A day my dad was still alive. I held the pink paper and ran my finger over the date as I pictured my dad buying this ticket. How he put it in his wallet to check it later. How he had no idea that he would never get the chance. I could see him so clearly in my mind. I could see his face. I could see the way he would stand. I could hear his voice. All from running my finger over that lottery ticket I had him back with me. Sometimes you buy a chance at a dream by buying a lottery ticket. You buy the dream because you just never know, you may be a big winner. I guess everything is a chance. You just never know.

The 20's

You know how they called them the "roaring" 20's? Well that is what we are in now. For the 3rd time. The 20's. The awful days from the 20th-29th. See, dad had surgery Nov. 20. Then "it" happened Nov.26 and the "official" end was Nov. 29. Did I mention this before? The first time or the second time? I do not remember. I do not purposely look for the 20's but I somehow can't help but notice them when they are here. This will be the 3rd time. Hopefully the charm. LOL. I laugh to keep from crying.
Good things tho. Mr H had successful surgery at the dreadful hospital of hell. He should be home Friday. We are grateful for this. Mom went to church Sunday for the first time. We are grateful to the loving, compassionate people at church who are always there to hold you up and give a hug. There was a lunar eclipse tonight. It was pretty. The moon was so large and bright tonight. It was lovely. I know it is not really relevant to anything but my name means goddess of the moon. Forgive me I had to find something lighthearted since this blog always seems to send me to tears.Afterall we are in the 20's and need to find something magical to hang on to.

They paved paradise

My mother seems to cry all the time. It does not matter where or when or who is there. She asked me the other day if I ever cry. Of course I do. But I cry alone. This is the only place anyone ever sees any of my emotions. Here on this blog where I can sit all alone and let my emotions and tears and fears and sadness have full reign. I don't even care if anyone ever reads this, it is just here for me. My time here is my time to let it all out there instead of keeping it all locked up inside. Sometimes I feel I will explode from the weight of it all.
You know how the sadness just hits you out of the blue sometimes. The other morning on the way to work I was singing with the radio, you know the old Joni Mitcell song about they paved paradise and put up a parking lot? I was singing away and then it hit me and I started to cry over the words, "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?"
I fully knew all my life what I had but still it hurts now that it's gone. My entire life I have dreaded the very thought of losing my father and it is so much harder than my nightmare ever let me fear it would be. It is so very hard. And so I cried. But I also remembered with gladness that every day dad was in the hospital we were there. We kissed him goodbye the day before he was going to come home. We went home thinking that it would all be just fine. We were so anxious for him to get home where we could take care of him. You see I get to this part of the story and it still makes me sick. This is where it all stops for me, when I get to this place. My son cried and cried when everything happened. He said that he had not talked to gramps the night before. That gramps did not know he loved him. How to you comfort your child? I told him the truth. The night before he was there. He sat there with gramps watching TV. He kissed him goodbye. How many 18 year old boys kiss their grandfathers goodbye? Not many. I don't think it helped to ease his pain very much. These are the things that hurt. I know my son's pain is buried deep inside him. He is so much like me. I am sure there are nights and days when it is hard for him still. I pray for peace for him and for all of us. Life is precious. The ones you love are precious. Appreciate them. Because, don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?

A normal day

Yesterday mom and I went out for lunch and just running around. She did not cry or whine the entire time! Okay, this was a big deal for me. Lately I have been the world's worst daughter. I know my mother is grieving but the grief was getting to be too much. It was like quicksand dragging me down somewhere I was trying to save myself from. The sadness is so over powering that it made it difficult for me to want to even talk to her on the phone much less spend any time with that grief and sorrow. We are all trying to find our way in this time of hurt. My son and I try to face the world with a brave face and tell ourselves it will be okay. For the most part my mother seems like a prisoner to the pain. It can be crushing to those of us trying to live the way my father did. To celebrate life. But yesterday was a good day. It was a normal day. Mom starts grief counceling next week and I think it will help her. I am grateful to any day that is just normal. Any day we can remember dad and smile. Any day we can face the world the way he did, with joy and excitement. Any day we can celebrate life.

One minute on a sad night

Tonight is one of those nights when I just can't sleep. A blanket of sadness comes over me and I can't rest. Sometimes I wish for one minute when someone would hold me and I did not have to be strong or brave. I could just let go. Really sad thing is the only one who could ever do that for me was my dad.
Somehow when he would hug me all the walls would come down and I could be a scared little girl in her dad's arms knowing I was safe and that everything would be ok. I have built up so many walls over the years to keep from getting hurt. I have the strong wall, the mean wall, the bad *ss wall. Too many walls to count, just to keep the pain out. The death of your father does not know what a wall is. Walls don't stop that kind of pain. I wish they did.
Tonight I cry for my loss. I cry when I think of the last time I saw my dad in that horrible hospital in that bed. I had no idea it would be my last time to see him. He was coming home the next day. It is still too much to handle. Even now. I cry to think of the days when he was on the machine and we knew that he really wasn't there. Those days were hard. Nightmare hard. I cry just because I am scared and lonely and I miss him. I cry because during the day I have to be brave and strong but at night in my bed I do not. I cry because I wish for one minute I did not have to be strong or brave ever. Maybe even thirty seconds would be nice.