My dad is dying.
It hurts so much to see those words written down, but it doesn't make them any less true.
I've been lying to myself for a while now. With all the experience I've had in the nursing field, I'd somehow managed to convince myself that because I've seen others much worse hang on for much longer, that my dad would be one of those people. Now I know that isn't going to be the case.
He's dying.
Maybe not this week. Please God, not before Easter.
His heart is growing weaker. He has congestive heart failure, among other things. Right now, he's in the hospital. He's also diabetic, and his blood sugars have been very high lately. He's also been running a low-grade fever off and on for over a week. His doctor is attributing the fever to an infection that is masked by his lung cancer. I have finally admitted to myself that it is now time for hospice, if he gets out of the hospital. If there is nothing more they can do for him there, he should come home.
I can't bear the thought of losing my dad. Of my son losing his dziadzi. Of my mom without him. I can't stomach the thought of a funeral.
I've dealt with a lot in my life, but nothing has come close to this. My dad is my rock, the one I'm most like. The one who just gets me. I detest the idea of having to be the strong one, the one to hold everyone else's hand and help them through this, when the one person who has always held MY hand is the one to whom I'll be saying goodbye.
I can't imagine a world without him. I don't want a world without him. And yet, that time is drawing near. I feel it deep inside. I'm sitting in my kitchen, and it all seems so foreign to me. My life feels foreign to me at this moment. I don't like it. I want to run to my dad, to hold him, to have him hold me. To tell him I love him again. To hear him tell me he loves me. I need his smile and his gruff words. And it kills me inside to see the defeat in his eyes, when I've always seen love and acceptance.
I don't want to see him sick and suffering. But I need him, and I'm just not ready to say goodbye.
Who will hold my hand when he is gone?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Hurt and Confusion
I fear I may have a stalker, and I waffle between confusion, hurt and a weird combination of happiness and acceptance.
I may be totally wrong, and I'm equally hoping and I'm wrong and right. I fell in love last year. This man was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my with, grow old with, fight and make up with. Emotionally, though, he was a wreck. I think he still visits my blog and Twitter page, although I have no way of knowing for sure. If it's him, he's switched internet providers. But the visitor in question acts the same way the ex-boyfriend did when he wanted me to know he was hopping on my pages. He exits my blog to my Twitter page. He clicks on responses I make to other people. There's only one person who's ever done that, and that is Sam.
I can't say I miss him, I've realized that he was not the man I need in my life. But yet, a part of me still has a hard time letting go of those dreams I built around him. He's moved on with his life, having gotten married, even. That hasn't stopped him from stalking me, if it is truly him. My gut says it is, and I've learned the hard way to trust my instincts.
Perhaps it boils down to me wanting him to realize the mistake he made by fucking with my heart and causing me to walk away. I want him to regret his mistakes. I don't want him back in my life, however. Because he just isn't right for me. I do miss him, though. I miss having a man in my life. Someone to hold me. Someone who listened. Someone who was mine. He was good like that. He made me feel like a woman, instead of feeling like the roles I take on in other people's lives - mother, sister, daughter. I was just me, with him. And that was important to me. I liked being a girlfriend. A lover. A confidant.
All that isn't enough, though. He was untrustworthy, and he hurt me. He was too wrapped up in himself to think about me. And I think, deep down, that he resented my son.
I don't mind if he reads Twitter or my blogs. It is almost comforting, knowing he is still on the fringes. That he hasn't forgotten about me. This is why I don't lock my Twitter account or block the ISP address. More fool me, I suppose.
I may be totally wrong, and I'm equally hoping and I'm wrong and right. I fell in love last year. This man was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my with, grow old with, fight and make up with. Emotionally, though, he was a wreck. I think he still visits my blog and Twitter page, although I have no way of knowing for sure. If it's him, he's switched internet providers. But the visitor in question acts the same way the ex-boyfriend did when he wanted me to know he was hopping on my pages. He exits my blog to my Twitter page. He clicks on responses I make to other people. There's only one person who's ever done that, and that is Sam.
I can't say I miss him, I've realized that he was not the man I need in my life. But yet, a part of me still has a hard time letting go of those dreams I built around him. He's moved on with his life, having gotten married, even. That hasn't stopped him from stalking me, if it is truly him. My gut says it is, and I've learned the hard way to trust my instincts.
Perhaps it boils down to me wanting him to realize the mistake he made by fucking with my heart and causing me to walk away. I want him to regret his mistakes. I don't want him back in my life, however. Because he just isn't right for me. I do miss him, though. I miss having a man in my life. Someone to hold me. Someone who listened. Someone who was mine. He was good like that. He made me feel like a woman, instead of feeling like the roles I take on in other people's lives - mother, sister, daughter. I was just me, with him. And that was important to me. I liked being a girlfriend. A lover. A confidant.
All that isn't enough, though. He was untrustworthy, and he hurt me. He was too wrapped up in himself to think about me. And I think, deep down, that he resented my son.
I don't mind if he reads Twitter or my blogs. It is almost comforting, knowing he is still on the fringes. That he hasn't forgotten about me. This is why I don't lock my Twitter account or block the ISP address. More fool me, I suppose.
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