Lung Cancer Bites

Brace yourselves.
Here we go again.

Remember?
It is Lung Cancer Awareness Month.
I am going to keep talking about it until everyone knows all about it...
...how it affects those who love the people who get the horrible, horrible disease...
...how it completely, totally sucks ass.

Excuse my language.

My children, in their young, short lives have experienced loss more than most adults four times their age.  We have had the "Doctors couldn't make him better" discussion so often that they can now predict exactly what will be said.
They seem to understand death, heaven and angels, but it doesn't make the pain any less...ummm...painful.

So I had this idea.
I would get my kids to talk about it.
I wanted their own words.
I wanted to see if I could talk about it without getting all verklempt.  And, as you can see from these videos, we are all dealing with this grief crap very differently.....

....humour......


....and complete sadness with some anger added in....


And then there is me who still imagines her Daddy's voice....his smell....his raspy laugh and sometimes "speak before you think" humour. There is me who still thinks he is away and will be back for Christmas.
I call it denial.
It's working for me so far.

Don't smoke please.
Don't allow smoking in your house.
Inform everyone you know that lung cancer is a monster who takes away the best people ever from their young grandchildren.   My apologies for the depressing stuff lately.....just trying to get the message across. Group hug. Smooches.

Signs from Heaven

Remember when I mentioned that I asked my Daddy to give me a sign that he was with me on my birthday?
Remember when I told you that I saw more blue jays than ever before so I knew he was "with me"?
Well, I totally forgot about this, until my Mom reminded me..

As the entire family gathered to celebrate Mothers Day outdoors at my Grandma's home, there was a bright yellow bird right above us in the apple tree.

It was very...
...very...
...very...
loud.
With an unusual sound. A loud, high pitched song of some sort was a constant, right above our heads.

My dad was wanting to be a part of the celebration and he let us know all about it.

Thank you Daddy.
Thank you Mom{my} for reminding me of this.Thank you little brother for getting pictures of it.

Do you constantly look for signs your loved ones in Heaven are close by?Is it weird of me to do this?Is this a sign that I am losing my marbles?
What kind of bird is this?

Hosted by Cecily and Lolli

Discussing Grief. Again.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

These are the five stages of grief. If I was brilliant and had some education and research in my past, I would list them as.

Hell
Hell
Hell
Hell
Hell

I have never been to Hell and, to be honest, have always pictured it as a dark, dungeon-like place with sad faces and very unhappy souls.

Like my life right now.
I miss my Daddy so much it physically hurts.
I want to vomit all of the time.
I want to wake up from this horrible dream.
I want to escape this Hell on Earth because that is what it is without my Daddy here.

He was a private person and did not want his "troubles" to be talked about which I respected.
But now that he is gone, I find writing about it therapeutic.
And I am sure he would respect that too.

Why did this happen? Why did a man who still had so much life to live, places to go and people to hug leave this Earth so young?
I am struggling with this.
People tell me to appreciate and cherish the time we had with him.
People tell me to hold the memories tight and continue to talk about him so he is never forgotten.
People tell me it takes time. That the hurt will lessen and the pain will be less sharp.

But as my family celebrated Mothers Day and my birthday yesterday with a hike up to the family maple bush, I couldn't help but wish my Dad was walking with us.
I wanted him there with us as we strolled through the forest full of trillium's.

As we rode ATVs past the place where he always talked about putting his trailer/camper.
Because it was quiet.
Peaceful.
Surrounded by beauty.

I will tell you a secret.
Promise not to tell anyone?
When I woke up on the day I turned 37, I asked my Daddy to give me a sign that he was there with me.
I saw more blue jays yesterday than ever before.

He was there.

My Therapy

grief/grēf/
Noun:
1.Deep sorrow, esp. that caused by someone's death.
If I was a definition creator, I would define grief as "the biggest, largest bag of suckage ever".
But I'm not, so,  instead I will just continue grieving with deep sorrow and pain.
While I grieve the loss of my Daddy, I am trying my hardest to not completely lose my shit.
And it is here at my home that I am finding the most comfort in this entire "bag of suckage" that is my life.

Funny how that happens huh?
When my dad was sick, the only place he wanted to be was at home because it brought him comfort.
He felt safe.

And now, my therapy is at my home.
My therapy is being with my children.


My therapy is watching my innocent children live their lives before totally understanding grief and how crippling it is.


My therapy is being outdoors with my hair unkempt and my zits exposed for the bugs and critters to see.


My therapy is listening to Studley snore because that means he is still breathing.
And it reminds me to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.


My therapy is hanging out with these two.



My therapy is planning my vegetable garden.
I just know that spending hours tending to my lettuce, carrots, peppers and tomatoes will calm me and ease my pain.


My therapy is home.


Just like it was for my Dad. 

The time I posted random pics of my animals and talked about grief.

Hi.

I am still breathing two weeks after saying goodbye to my daddy.Inhale.Exhale.Repeat.

I have sat in front of this computer many times over the last few days intending to write happy stuff.
Princess' fourth birthday.
My Mom's birthday.
My husband's birthday.
Our new trampoline.The pregnant cat.

But, I am not happy.
No matter how hard I try to go about my daily life, I am struggling.
Life will never again be the same and I am having a hard time with this.

I am constantly thinking about the last 37 years with my Daddy in my life.
Poof.
Now he is gone and I am just expected to go on.

But all I really do is try to bring myself back to when Dad was still here.
I force myself to think about things that happened throughout my life when Dad was with me, because it makes me feel better.

When that doesn't work, I think about Dad in Heaven.
I picture him sitting with his parents, brothers, {and the rest of our loved ones} without any pain.
I picture him riding a motorcycle while listening to Lady Gaga. {he loved her}
I picture him eating a huge roast beef dinner and not struggling to swallow after every mouthful.
I picture him happy......

...and sometimes that makes me happy.

But I would be happier if he was doing all of that with us.

*Thank you to everyone for your kindness and supportive words.
*Thank you for hanging in there with me as I find my way back to blogging.....soon I hope
*Thank you to the makers of NyQuil and Sleepeze for creating products that help me sleep
*Birthday/trampoline/Duke the Horse pics coming up soon
hugskisses