Lotsa changes

Well, obviously I'm here because I'm distressed. Many of my current issues are simply just a matter of adjustment and establishing a sense of normalcy.

So we've moved back to Vancouver. My hometown. Where my mom is and now where my job is and where Eddy's school is. For numerous reasons we decided that moving was our next step, and our best option. I applied and received a promotion to a banker position. I am excited about it, and I think I'll do great. I am sad to have left my original branch and all of the people there. I am realizing more and more how great we worked together and how successful we were as a team. I really do miss them! I'm hoping I will have that exact sentiment for my new branch very soon, but I do definitely see some issues, none of which are in my direct control.

My mom (and our bank account) is soooo happy to have us back. Eddy and I are staying in my mom's basement apartment, Elaina is upstairs in my old bedroom and Cole has the remaining bedroom to himself. Obviously the kids are ecstatic to have their own spaces again; living in the same space was starting to wear on them. Our little basement apartment is slowly turning out pretty cute! We're going to be footing all of the utility bills and grocery costs, so we'll be able to set some money aside for savings and contribute to the cost of Eddy's school (we don't want to finance too much in the way of student loans).

Eddy will be going to school to get his Bachelor's degree in Logistics. So 4 years from this Fall, maybe I'll be a happy homemaker... if I'm not a happy banker at that point. He is restless about being unemployed and is looking for something part-time.

Being back is so hard though. Seeing my dad's things and missing his voice and laugh and hugs. I'm currently typing on his old computer. I will never stop saying it (even though it is a waste of breath): it's not fair. I've been so tired since we've arrived and don't really want to go anywhere but home and work. I've been having stomach issues and wish I could dismiss the thoughts that things could be seriously wrong. Logically, I KNOW that it is highly improbable that I have pancreatic cancer (yep, I'm that crazy), but after believing for so many years that my dad was the strongest, most invincible creature of this earth and watching him become riddled with pain and cancer, I'm just a little extra paranoid about my body's functions and dysfunctions. I wish someone, somewhere, with some serious credibility could provide me a logical explanation of why life is so fucking confusing, scary, and gray sometimes? Personally, I'm all for black and white. I like definite.

Oh and happy things I've neglected to tell you, since I only post crappy things here? Eddy and I were so happy to be married on June 12, 2010. He officially adopted Elaina and Cole on July 7, 2010. I cried super happy tears both times. I love my family. I love my kids. I love my husband. I love my mother and I love and miss my dad. I am super fortunate to have what I have. I guess it's just human nature to not ever be truly settled and content?

My problem writing (better than drinking)

There is nothing new to report. 39 days until our wedding and while I am ecstatic to be married to Eddy, I am highly stressed about getting it all put together (including fitting into my dress).

Several people have told me that I should pursue a career in writing. While I agree that I am a decent writer, there is a big obstacle blocking that idea. I only write interesting, insightful, and well-thought out sentences when I am upset or feeling intense about something. My happy writing is boring.

So what brings about my post today? I was finalizing the guest list for our wedding ceremony and clicked on a saved file from last year with our list of invited guests. My dad was #2 on that list. It's a waste of finger-energy to even type this because I know that it doesn't change anything to type it or make anything better, but it just isn't fair that he's gone. It just ISN'T fair. I miss him so much. I've started dreaming nearly every night about showing up at the wrong place for my wedding, or forgetting my vows, or Eddy showing up at the wrong place, the judge not showing up, or my dress being stained, or some other wedding freak-out. Last night, in between those type of dreams I dreamt that my dad had inhabited my sweet cat Benji. He talked and sounded just like my dad and I carried him around with me. At one point my little family and I were walking down a country road on a beautiful, sunny summer day with my dad (the cat). It was sure nice to finally enjoy a dream.

And life goes on...

I can't BELIEVE I will wake up to February tomorrow. Just a couple days and four months until the wedding. Still so much to do.

I still wake up everyday, alive, and have no dad to call. I've just started thinking about what I would tell him if I could speak with him. I imagine somehow maybe he can hear me.

Religiously schooled, I have never been. My dad was agnostic, my mom a childhood Mormon. I've always maintained an agnostic outlook. I just don't know, and I don't feel that there is anything out there that comes close to convincing me of any theory on life, afterlife, and the meaning of life. Honestly, thinking of the human race as delicately mortal, no more capable of living beyond death than a spider I squashed on my bathroom wall, is pretty depressing. So daydreaming that there is something beyond is pleasant. And I wish I felt hope in the sense of it actually happening was a possibility. But I feel hope more in the sense of wishing. And imagining seeing him again feels similarly unreachable as fantasizing about winning huge in the lottery.

I'm coming to realize that a day will not pass that I do not think of him. Most days I cry for him. Some days it's all I can think of, and other days a pleasant memory reminds me of him and brings a tearful smile to my face.

I was reading through my blog tonight, feeling neglectful and realized that I wrote so much about my dad and his illness and how therapeutic it was for me. I've not written much since. I think I will try to make a conscious effort to do so, because it really does help.

Christmas Eve

I'm really glad Cole's in bed. He didn't take a nap at daycare today and at about 6:30 tonight he turned into a monster. A really BIG monster. Threats of being shunned by Santa didn't really help either.

Eddy's parents came over tonight so we could exchange gifts and spend some time together (Eddy's dad has to work tomorrow). Eddy & I got fleece sheets! I can't wait to go to bed!

My birthday was on the 17th. When I woke up that morning I was devastated that I couldn't talk to my dad. The first birthday ever where I couldn't hear his voice. The feeling lasted throughout the day and has trickled into Christmas as well. My heart just aches when I think of him being gone. My dad's passing has also brought along some anxiety about my own death, and the possible death of anyone else in my life. People can go so quickly and unexpectedly. Recently I've heard of so many tragedies, I feel disheartened, sad, and scared about how very delicate the state of living really is. I don't know if it is my personal tragedies, getting older, or what, but I've never been worried about all this before. I just try to remind myself to take the responsibility for what I can control in terms of my mortality and try to accept that often there is no controlling mortality.

Christmas is just different this year. I am grateful to be with Eddy & the kids, grateful to have such a loving and caring family, and I enjoy watching my kids get soooo excited. But it's just not the same. I think it will probably never be the same. I also feel guilty for not being with my mom this time of year, although she seems to be doing pretty well.

So 2010 it almost is. What will the year bring? Marriage, maybe a pregnancy, a new home, a possible relocation, and ???

I'm just trying very hard to take it one day at a time and appreciate all the wonderful things that I enjoy living for. Bad will happen, but so will good.

Please stay...

Dad passed away 3am on Wed Nov 4th. My sister is a nurse. She is so calm and comfortable around medical things. I am so thankful that she was here. She slept by dad's hospital bed on Monday and Tuesday night. I woke up about 2:50am on Tuesday to go pee. After, I went out to the living room where Dad & Ang were. Ang told me she didn't think Dad would last very long. I held his hand for a moment and then went back to bed. 10 minutes later she came and told me she thought he had died. We both returned, he was gone. I can't tell you how bad I wanted to scream out his name. He'd always been there when I cried out for him before. Standing sturdy, waiting to hear what I needed, how he could fix something. There was this irrational part of me that wanted to believe that crying out for him would wake him, bring him back, make him well. It was so crushing when I realized how irrational of a thought that was.

Dad was always very protective of his "high tech gadgets". I asked before I did anything on his computer. I put together a slideshow of pictures for his party. There were several file folders created and transferred to a flash drive. I was so worried I was going to make him crabby.

I drove Ang to the airport tonight. On the way back I was listening to "The Song of the Moment" (off to the right of this page). It is a beautiful song, and I so felt what it was saying. I distinctly remembered driving him to chemotherapy the last time I was here. I had my hand on his skinny leg and let a rush of sadness sweep over me, wishing yet simultaneously accepting that I wasn't going to be able to wish him healthy. Tonight I looked over to that passenger seat and touched the seat and started to cry.

This is the hardest thing I've ever been through. When I cry, I swear it physically hurts. When I look at my mom, my heart breaks all over again. She is mourning and devastated. I truly am lucky to be able to say that my parents loved each other; adored and admired each other.

My dad is amazing. He has a giving, loving, heart. Honestly, I'm refusing to speak about him in past-tense. I question if that is a bit of denial. Or maybe it's because he'll never, ever, truly be gone.

My Dad

Things have truly taken a turn for the worse with my dad. He has fluids in his lungs, around his heart, and is having a very difficult time breathing. They have started him on oxygen. Given how rapidly his condition has worsened, and the symptoms he is now exhibiting, he will probably die within 10 days. My memories and times with my father are wonderful. I am a lucky girl to have had such a wonderful dad. This is all very painful, heartbreaking. But I remind myself constantly that it hurts so bad, it sucks so bad, only because he has been such a joy to have as my father, such a wonderful man, and such a true person. If he had not been, this wouldn't hurt, so this pain is reflective of how very much he means to me, how very strong of a loving influence he has been on me. So it hurts excruciatingly, but his love and his presence in my life make all of this pain completely worthwhile. I cannot think of a point at which it would hurt more than having my dad be my dad was worth. I love him, and I am so thankful to have him as my dad.

Silly little mountains

You know those little "to-dos" that you just don't want to do? They turn into mountains but in reality are just little mole hills. They take 5 minutes or less to handle. Mine were calling my health insurance about my auto accident that the doctor's office should have billed to Allstate but didn't, filling out my Income Based Repayment forms for my student loan, cancelling my ID theft protection after the free 30 day trial, etc. Why do I worry about this crap and prolong and put it off? I think I've pin pointed what I hate about it. I hate the "press 1 for this, 2 for that", scripted conversations, cordial his, how are yous, have a great day, blah, blah. I just want a damned webform and a fast reply. If I didn't have friends and family and work, I think I could easily fall into the life of a hermit. With an internet connection. I think Eddy would be okay with that too, maybe we could be a hermit-ish family.

Anyway, my mountains have been climbed, and now I'm off to the post office to mail the IBR forms to my loan servicer. Doing it certified this time because last time they "never received" my paperwork.

Happy Monday all!