Remembering

You know when your mind is racing and it won’t stop? Or when you want to shut off your brain but instead it keeps replaying moments over and over again? That’s been my last 2 weeks.

It started around Christmas, but amplified when I couldn’t fall asleep on New Year’s Eve into New Year’s Day. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep because I was out partying or doing anything worthwhile (I was watching a marathon of Law & Order: SVU #TeamOliviaBenson). I was wide awake because my thoughts were occupied with the last 2 weeks of my daddy’s life.

I remembered that a year ago we were driving my daddy to the emergency room because he had been in pain all day. He had been crying, squirming, and feeling miserable.

I remember sitting on the basement steps for hours while he was in pain. Giving him medicine, waiting to see if the medicine would kick in, keeping track of the intervals between doses, praying God would relieve him of his pain and bring healing to him on earth.

I remember sitting on the basement steps just watching him. Not knowing what else to do. Wondering why this had to happen to him.

I remember seeing him finally fall asleep for a few hours, while the pain subsided. I would go right above his face to make sure he was still breathing. Feeling a moment of relief because finally he was getting a reprieve from the pain, but it was only short lived before the pain returned and we did this dance over again. I didn’t realize that would be his last time in our basement.

That night at the hospital was hard to watch. I’d seen my daddy in pain before, but nothing like this. I felt like I was pleading with the nurse to hurry and administer the meds, to have the doctor come soon, to do anything to make his pain subside. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion.

And I was scared.  Scared that this was the beginning of the end. I had no clue we were so close to saying goodbye. This hospital trip was the first time the doctor mentioned hospice. I was taken aback. But you wouldn’t have known because my job as my daddy’s caregiver and POA was to be clear minded, take all the notes down to then share with my family, and advocate for my daddy. There was no time to feel. To sit with the weight of goodbye. No time  to sit with the weight of goodbye...No time  to sit with the weight of goodbye...

As I remember his last 2 weeks of life, I’m replaying every moment. Wishing I would have said more and did more. I wish I would have known we only had days not months left with my daddy.

I traveled to Chicago for work last week. I took this same work trip a year ago and sat with those memories of last year.  The day I returned from my work trip last year was when we met with the hospice folks and made the decision for him to begin hospice care. I knew my daddy wouldn't make the decision without me there. I knew this was a hard but necessary decision for him. I knew the end was getting closer and that realization was heartbreaking.

The last picture I have of my daddy alive is from the Saturday before he passed away. He’s in his hospice bed at home. He is on his phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. He doesn’t even know I took the picture because I’m in the dining room. It’s the quiet before the storm. Just him and I at the house before it’s filled with family saying their goodbyes. Because although he wouldn’t die for another 5 days, this day is his last true one. The last one where he was himself. Surrounded by those who loved him, my daddy being the life of the party. Just as he would want to be remembered.

That Saturday is etched in my heart forever. I remember his smile. I remember his jokes. I remember his positive attitude. But most importantly, I remember his love. His love that helps mend my broken heart. His love that helps dry my sad tears. His love that helps heal my devastated soul. I’ll forever remember my daddy.