A Year in Retrospect

 Somehow it's been a year already. Somehow it's taken forever to get here. I feel both at the same time. Luckily, I've never been one to feel time is a real concept.

One year ago, my father, my first best friend, my teacher, my mentor left this plane. I was in the hospital with my mother, my younger brother, and my Godmother. I sat by my father while his breathing became more labored and more auto pilot. I hate listening to that breath. I know, from previous hospital visits, it is the last of breaths. I needed a break. We took turns eating lunch, so no one would have to eat alone. My brother and mother went first, then I went with my Godmother. The cafeteria seemed to be miles away. Floors down, long hallways. I thought we'd never get there. I didn't so much care to eat, but I thought I should keep my strength up. So, we sat, and we started eating. I was halfway through my sandwich when two young nurses approached our table. Asking for me, I said, "He's gone isn't he?" To which they replied, "Yes, we're so sorry." We wrapped up our leftovers and started the treck back to the room. There was a two visitor minimum in these crazy times, but after a passing, as many people could be in the room as you wished. So we all gathered there into one big hug. We sat in the room for a while. Another nurse (they should really be referred to as hopspital angels or something more descriptive to what they truly are) asked if any of us would like a mini printout of his last heartbeat with a lock of his hair. I immediately said yes, while my mother initially said no. I told the nurse we would take two, so if she changed her mind later, I would have it. She changed her mind right then, so two it was. I still have it somewhere in my jewelry box. I intended to make some sort of pendant with it, but haven't gotten around to it.

I took a picture of the time on the wall. I knew I'd never remember. I don't like to remember death dates, but this was the biggest one I've experienced yet, so I started taking pictures. I wasn't even sure why or what good they would do, but something about it made me feel better. I was thinking I'd share them with my family, but again, I haven't gotten around to it. So, this post seemed the proper place for some of them.

This day falls between two family birthdays; my sister and my youngest child, who are 5 days (and some years) apart. I was grateful Dad chose to leave in between them, and not on one of them. It still weighs heavy though.

I've always loved Autumn. I love the crisp air, the changing colors and the incredible transition the Earth needs to take in order to get to Winter. It is amazing. Dad never liked Autumn. He thought it was too full of death. "Everything around you is dying. It's depressing," he would say. I silently disagreed. I was born in the beginning of Autumn, and I couldn't remember a time I didn't love it. The start of school, apple season, pumpkin carving, Halloween, Thanksgiving, it was all a magical time to me. Dad passed in Autumn. Will I still love it the same? I worry about that a little bit.

Making our way through the holidays for the first time without one of our main characters was...well...interesting. My family scattered to the winds. Half of us siblings and families made it to Mom's for Thanksgiving. That was nice, even though a bit small from our usual 30 or so folks. Christmas time was altogether different. My sister recently moved down south, so we knew we wouldn't be seeing them. Also, my brothers and their families take turns alternating Christmas and Thanksgiving, so this was the Thanksgiving year. So, Christmas was going to be quiet...extra quiet...Mom decided to go to CT with my older brother and family. It was just going to be me and my family here for Christmas this year. For the first time in my 51 years, I'd be away from my nuclear family. Ok, I thought, it's different yes, but that doesn't mean it will be bad. My husband's family is still in town, and we made plans to do Christmas Eve with them, per tradition. So, that felt nice. It ended up being just my brother inlaw, and his two sons, because the weather did not want to cooperate. But it was still a nice time. Just different.

A reminder that everything is different from now on.

Somehow we all made it through the winter. Some video group chats, a few visits down south, and next thing, Spring was here. That means, for me, I get busy at work. Our season starts in the Spring, and is busy until November. I don't really remember if there were any poignant moments, or meaningful times, but another holiday came and went, and I hardly even remember what we did. Easter was a blur, and even looking back at pictures, there basically were just pics of the food and a couple of terrible candids. Very unlike me. I have been photographing family events and holidays since I could hold a camera. Guess I wasn't feeling it, even though my younger brother and Mom were there for a nice meal. I'm sure it was a nice day.

Summer time brings extra family visiting at the lake, where my mom lives. It is where we spent every summer growing up, and when my parents sold their house, they moved there. They share it with my aunt and uncle who stay in the summer time. They've done that since before I was born. I was glad they would be there this year with Mom.

The first visit back to the lake once the house was more open to the lake side was, I believe, for Mother's Day. I stood on the front lawn and thought, "Oh no. I don't like this at all." The feeling of Dad missing struck pain in my heart. We've never had a summer at the cottage without him. Ever. And even though he wasn't fully himself the last several summers, his energy was still him. We could sit next to him and enjoy it, even if his mind wasn't put together right anymore. I made a promise to myself right there on the front lawn. I would not be coming back here this summer sober. I know, I know, everyone with an issue with this is probably thinking, "Oh no! Don't do it!" But I did. Every time I went to the lake, which was a lot, I was either high, buzzed, or both. Not to the nth degree where I couldn't function, but just enough to help dull the pain in my heart. I didn't want to face it. I was afraid of how bad it would get. Father's Day, Dad's birthday, so many other birthdays, 4th of July, my youngest's high school graduation. I knew all of these were going to happen without Dad. And they were going to be celebrated at the lake where he wasn't anymore. I couldn't take the thought. So, I numbed.

This summer also brought a celebration of life for Dad. Mom invited family and friends and everyone came together for the day to remember him. It was really a wonderful day. There were so many people from different times in his life, and to see them all together was really heart warming. Dad would have loved it. He was such a people person, and loved those closest to him dearly. It was his favorite thing to have his tribe around him. It was a lovely, loving day.

That day must have helped my heart begin to heal a little bit. After that, I didn't find it so necessary to numb out while I was at the lake. Not that I didn't keep doing it for a bit longer, but by the end of the summer, I found myself there wihout having taken anything for the pain. Somehow, my heart found healing.

Now, here we are, one year later. Having gone through all the motions without this main character in our lives. Everyone is doing alright, I believe. Mom is a freaking superstar. She spent most of the year visiting her children, grandchildren and friends and relatives. She was quite the jet setter! She likes to be busy, and she's good at finding things to stay that way. She has also been wonderfully open with her feelings as they come, and that has been a true gift. I've seen her making a new way for herself, as her life is totally different than it was a year or more ago. She is strong and amazing, as always to me.

Do the tears still flow? Yes, but perhaps not as frequent and furious as they when they started. Bouts of sadness, joy, giggling have all spontaneously occurred with memories and moments. The pain in my heart feels somewhat healed. I know the scar will forever remain. Just like the love my first best friend taught me to have for life and the people I love.

I Got a Hug Last Night

I was in a dream. It wasn’t terribly memorable, or significant. There were dreamy things coming and going like they do, and my mind just going along for the ride. A lot was happening, as dreams can do, and it is hard for me to put into words just how I got there.

There was a friend of a neighbor visiting me with two girls. They were looking to borrow some cups for the girls, and I was showing them the shelf they were on and going through the several different ones they could choose from (none of which I actually own in the awake realm).

There was a change of scenery. There was a delivery of some sort of jarred goods from the neighbor’s friend. Two boxes, one came with broken jars. I was trying to stop her from leaving so I could tell her about the broken jars, and as in dreams, it became impossible to get her attention. I think I tried following her, and then I was gliding through thoughts most randomly and quickly. Too quickly to pinpoint the moment it occurred to me…

“Why can’t people just be happy?” I heard in the ether. A conversation I’m sure I’ve had in the past with my father.

My father who passed from this realm last October. Then it dawned on me, much like it does every day, that he is gone. That these conversations that were so very good to have with him won’t be happening anymore. “But I have an answer now,” I thought, perhaps out loud. “Because they are stifled. Their emotions are so suppressed, they don’t know how to be anything, let alone happy.”

There was no response, of course. The sadness that creeps up on me every day came upon me, and even though I was in the dream realm, and not sure exactly where I was, I tried to stifle it. My eyes started tearing, and I tried to push them down. This is an old habit, and apparently one that my dream self was most comfortable with. I was still looking for the woman who’d delivered the jars so I could tell her, but the dream realm had other plans.

I’ve been having a lot of what I call, “busy dreams,” lately, where I try to complete a task, but 1,000 other things happen that get in my way. I usually have these when my body is tense and my mind is busy. Thankfully, I forget them shortly upon waking. But it is a wake up call for me to get some rest for both body and mind.

So, as I was stifling tears, and looking for this woman, I found myself in a place. I find it hard to describe, other than it was open, and felt like a combination of a bar and an athletic department in a school (and no, not a sports bar). There were two large rooms with a large opening between them. As I stood there wondering where I was and where to look for this woman, an old family friend walked up to me. She was wearing an oversized green wind breaker with some college team’s logo on it in white, and holding a blue key lanyard. “Carol!” I exclaimed, surprised and somewhat happy to see her. “Hi there,” she said as we paused and moved awkwardly into a stiff hug. “Have you seen Anthony?”

“Anthony? No, I haven’t seen him in years, a very long time.” I don’t know who Anthony is. In my mind, she was referring to her husband, who’s name is not Anthony that I know of.

She kind of wandered off, I assumed to keep looking.

I felt comfortable in this space, whatever it was. People were coming and going, not much interaction, but it felt like a good vibe. Now that I think about it with my awake brain, it felt like some sort of terminal, but I wasn’t aware of any type of transportation.

I went to walk into the second room. As I rounded the opening, I almost walked right into him; my dad. There he was bold as life, looking amazing and happy. So very happy. He wore a white, short-sleeved, button down shirt with thin green criss-crossed weaved lines through it. Khaki slacks and carrying wallpaper books by their roped handles. His face was glowing and smiling. So happy.

     

(Trying to capture the energy he had. These pictures come close. His smile was just like these.)

My surprise was overwhelming and also happy. We looked at each other, acknowledging each other and instantly hugged. Suddenly I knew. This wasn’t a dream. This was a visit. Thinking about him brought him to me, or me to him. In the moments of hugging, I said, “I miss you!” He hugged me tighter. It was wonderful. There was so much happiness. My uncle, his younger brother, who is still in this realm, was in the background, like he was just waiting to see if I needed him, or maybe waiting his turn to visit. Stoic and loving. My Dad didn’t reply. There were no words exchanged after my exclamation, and then I woke up just before the alarm went on.

This wasn’t the first visit I’ve had with my dad since he left this realm. He has been in my dreams a few times now. But it was very different. You see, when he left this realm, he was quite out of his mind. He was not aware of reality at all. He had suffered a stroke six years prior, and since that time, dementia had taken hold of him, and deteriorated his brain slowly and painfully. It was very hard for all of us who love him to watch. Especially my mother, who became his main caretaker. It was her full (very full) time job. I’m sure it was horrifying for him to actually go through, sometimes knowing his brain wasn’t right, and not knowing what he could do about it.

    

I was in the hospital when he passed. Not in the room, but there shortly after with my mom and younger brother. I knew he had gone, but also that he was going to need time before I heard from/saw him again. I knew I would, because I have seen others who have passed in my dream state. They are different from dreams, I know this from these past visits. I knew I would have to be patient and give him time to understand what had happened. I knew he would be reconnected to his full self, and it would take time to process all that occurred these last six years. I also knew that time is a man made concept, and energetic time is completely different, and that my dad has always been open to other realms and other worldly ideas. So, really, I had no idea when I might hear from him, but I knew I had to have patience.

Pazienza.

I’ve had a few “visits” from him in my dream state. They weren’t exactly how I’ve had other visits. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t as patient as I should be, and just really wanted to see him. The first couple he was there, in a bunch of people, family and others I didn’t know, but he was in the background, not speaking, not interacting with anyone. I took these like an update on how his healing was going. I appreciated them, even though they were minimal.

Pazienza.

Then there was one where I ran into him and went to hug him, and he put his hand out to shake my hand, and said, “Well I think we should get to know each other first!” I knew this wasn’t the time, but he was starting to acclimate to his surroundings.

Pazienza.

Ever see the movie What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams? When I saw that movie many years ago, I was blown away. I had recently lost a dear friend, and was trying to figure out how to mourn. I was a mess. I dove into this movie full force, getting the book and reading it twice or more. Crying. Crying. Crying. Trying to understand death and all it means. Gosh, I was young then (in my twenties). There is a scene in that movie where Robin’s character first gets to his version of heaven. He learns to manipulate his world, and makes it beautiful. My Dad always loved that scene, and I knew that’s what he was learning to do. Painting his world just how he would love it.

Pazienza.

It paid off. The waiting. The grief. The feeling of loss. I can’t help when my defensive mind goes to sleep, and my desires go out into the dream realm. And there he was. Recognizing me and all. The hug was just as real as anything in this realm.

When he passed, all I could think of was, “He’s gone.” In fact, that’s what I texted my family to let them know. That’s all I felt. That’s all I knew. He’s gone. Even though I knew it wasn’t permanent, I felt the incredible absence.

This morning when I woke up, all I could think of was, “He’s back!” (HP reference, but in a much more positive way!) So yeah, he’s back, and it makes my heart and soul happy once more. I know there will still be more time with him, even if it is in my dream state. And maybe there will be great conversations to be had after all. 💕