So, what is it with me and blogging?? I tried this a year ago to chronicle my new direction, learning to spin. Then I lost the farm. I revisited this blog just before I turned 50 and decided to continue this blog, chronicling my new life in the city and how my world has changed. I looked to 2012 with so much hope in my heart. That was before 2012 decided to feed me a big ole crap sandwich! January 7th, my beloved dog GeezeMoe, my dream dog, my Swiss Bernese Mt. Dog died of cancer. He was diagnosed only days before. My dog was at my ex’s house. Dang baby was bonded to the other two dogs and had too much anxiety when left alone. I was working on getting him moved in with me. I had no idea our time was so short. He went to the vet on Tuesday, got the diagnosis. I couldn’t get out to their house until Thursday. I had been on the phone and emailing other Berner owners, getting advice, planning on a second opinion, but I had to see Moe first to know, to see that look. Thursday my bouncing tigger was happy to see me but moving so very slow. He came up to me and simply pressed his head against me, but he wouldn’t look at me. This is a dog that had no clue about personal space yet he was avoiding eye contact. He slid down by my side and simply lay enjoying my touching him. Later he moved behind the chair, I followed him. I lay on the floor with my head on his. I told him how much I loved him and he was a good boy, a very good boy, it was ok if he had to go. He picked up his head; I lifted my head. He looked me in the eyes, straight in the eyes, then he closed them, put his head down and let out a big sigh. I stayed for another hour, just holding him and left. Saturday morning daughter found him behind the chair, he was gone. Barely time to wrap my head around the diagnosis and he was gone. I was crushed, as any pet owner is when our beloved crosses that rainbow bridge.
I went through the next week in a daze. Very sad at all I had lost in the last few months. GeezeMoe wasn’t living with me but I knew he was there and saw him once or twice a week. Now he was gone forever. The following Friday I went out to pick my daughter up from work and couldn’t get my van warmed up. I had no heat. Played around with antifreeze, bought a new radiator cap, yada yada…still no heat and it was overheating. Got it to the shop and was told “Time to put her down.” I was 700 miles shy of 300,000. But the old 1994 Mercury Villager was simply done. My mechanic said the water pump was gone and the gaskets were shot, she was just too worn to repair. He used the words ‘system failure.’ GREAT! I was in NO position to replace this car, none. No cash, no credit, no happy! Trying to figure out what to do, I bummed rides all week to work. That Friday I needed a ride home and talked to my mom about possibly picking me up. She said she couldn’t because she had to be at the hospital, she had a meeting with the hospice people. Hospice?? When did we start talking about hospice?? Sure dad had a stroke 13 years ago. Sure he endured a quadruple bypass and various other surgeries over the years. Sure he was even in with a brain bleed – a complication from a fall and being on blood thinners. Sure he had been in the hospital since August fighting an infection. Sure he caught MERSA since he was in….but hospice? Now?? Mom offered me the van she used to haul dad around. She had a second car for when she didn’t have to take dad around. I hightailed it out of work and to the hospital for that hospice meeting. I don’t know what I expected but sitting there, thinking about my dog, my van and now my dad…I was thinking 2012 really sucked so far but then the nice hospice lady said something to my mom that caught my attention. She was explaining why dad needed hospice now and she said the words, ‘system failure.’ My dad worked on cars, he would have made the same connection, system failure. Dad was also about 700 miles shy of 300,000. His body was just worn out. It was time to let him go. Mom understood and agreed, dad was transferred later that day.
I went back over to Brian’s House, the hospice center later that Friday evening. Mom had left. Dad looked to be sleeping. I just sat there. What I felt weighed heavy on me. I had friends telling me for months, that I needed to let my dad know I was ready to let him go. Thoughts of this last conversation have tormented me in dark dreams for years. I knew I owed it to him, to us…I need this too right? I sat there listening to his labored breathing; afraid to wake him up yet relieved I had another out for our conversation. The T.V. was on, blaring Jeopardy. I watched without watching; just staring at the blue tube. With his eyes closed, dad laughed at a reference on Jeopardy to Poncho Villa. He and my mom had visited my brother David and his wife Lu in New Mexico when David was stationed there. Lu was always teasing my dad. They had a fun relationship. One of their jokes was about Poncho Villa. I can’t remember now what the joke was or how it started but all either one of them had to say when they were together was Poncho Villa and the other started laughing. Hearing him laugh at the sound of that name showed me that my dad was still ‘all there.’ I stood up and touched his shoulder saying “Hey dad how was your ride over.” He said through slurred speech, “Rough “then closed his eyes again. I stood for a moment, took a big breath and said, “Dad, I know you’re tired, you’ve been fighting for a long time. You have put up a good fight but maybe it’s time to go see grandma. Mom is ok, she will be ok. Are you ready to go see grandma?” That’s as close as I could come to saying the words, to tell him it was okay to go. He opened his eyes, turned his head towards me and clearly said, “Yes.” I rubbed his shoulder and said in a whisper, “Okay then. “He looked away, looked out the room door into the hallway. He looked for quite a while and then closed his eyes again. I waited for a while longer, and then left. It was snowing hard, the kinda snow that when you look up it looks like the galaxy going through warp speed. I just stood there, I don’t know how long. It was freezing and snowing so very hard. I went into the van and wept. So Moe was practice? I had to tell him goodbye too. They didn’t give us a time for dad but he died just over a week later. My mom, sister and I had been there all day. We left about 9:30pm.He died just after midnight. He waited to be alone. He couldn’t do it with his girls there.
The funeral was a blur. I can tell you I wept, hard, through the whole entire thing. I could NOT get control of myself. I had lied to dad; I was NO where NEAR ready to let him go. I wanted him out of pain but I wanted a cure, I didn’t want to lose him. I thought about writing my thoughts out over the weeks. I made a comment to a friend about cellos and she told me that I need to write when was in pain. It would help. Not sure that’s true as I weep all over my keyboard.
2012, really, really? This is how you’re gonna do me? This was supposed to be MY year. This was my new beginning, my do over year. I guess it goes to show you that new doesn’t always mean better. I’d like to say that things have improved a month after my dad died; they haven’t. I might have to sell my horse, my last holdout to my country life. The folks at the barn where I am boarding her raised barn board $50 and have been making hints about how this isn’t working. Great…oh and yeah, remember in an earlier blog I mentioned that I was currently a preschool teacher but that could change. Yeah, well, they laid off over 20 people and cut wages 5% across the board.Yeah, NOW I can’t afford to wait to find another job. I don’t mean to make this sound like a pity party but yunno, I think you’d have to admit, I’m entitled to just a bit of pissing & moaning, for a bit.
There, just blew my nose and washed my face, let out a big sigh because life goes on. I have to have a life; I have to live the life I have because life does in fact go on. I have a friend bugging me about changing my Facebook profile picture. It’s currently a picture of my dad, waving goodbye from his motorcycle. This friend said it was time to see my pretty face again. It’s not, but it will be. This guy telling me that a month is enough cannot make it through the week without mentioning something from his past that he is STILL dwelling on. His mom died at home with him. His dad had already passed and he was an only child so it was just the two of them. His girlfriend bailed on him shortly before his mom passed. A week will not go by before he comments about one or both, the girl leaving or taking care of mom all by himself – she died five years ago! See, I do still need some time to mourn my amazing father but five years later, I hope I am not dwelling on it. I think it will be awhile before I can get through a January not thinking about how crappy this one was, but I know I will pick myself up and dust myself off and move on. I always do.
I love the sorrow of cellos.
I think the way the bow moves
reminds me of how you feel when you breathe with a broken heart,
how the breaths ache,
dragging across your heart like the bow across the strings.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKzQ4ZB9V8M&list=FLSyrzg6bIht8rVSWRqu3aOA&index=8&feature=plpp_video
