Well, it's been 2 years and I can't really say that it's any better or easier. I'm still reminded of Dad regularly. The kids will do something and I will think, oh I should invite Dad, or I'll see an item in the store and think Dad would like that for his birthday or Christmas or whatever.
My life at home is now at the point where it is practically a joke. Brent frequently stays out all night, he hasn't slept here for the last 6 Friday nights. He and I haven't shared a bed for at least two years, though he has occasionally come to me for sex. The last time, about 3 weeks ago, I just you.
Once again we are hitting that time of year when he is unemployed, so that means money is tight and as a result his temper because worse. Both kids have asked me to open new bank accounts for them so their father can stop taking their money. Funny thing is, money is tight, but he can still go golfing, buy beer, go out to the bar after baseball, etc.
I need to accept that our marriage is over and move on. Financially, I can't afford to leave but emotionally, I can't afford to stay. Something has got to give, I need to make a choice and soon.
Friday, September 12, 2008
He's gone
On Saturday, Aug. 30 at approx 2:20pm my father passed away. I want to say that he went peacefully in his sleep, but I really don't know if that is true.
My brother and I had been to see him Friday night and he was in some pain, but he seemed to be okay. Saturday at around 8:20am I got a call at work that he was non-responsive and that I should go to the hospital.
I got there and it is a picture that I will have a tough time erasing from my memory. He was laying there with his eyes open but not seeing. They were glazed over like they weren' t real eyes.
We sat and held his hand and talked to him until just after noon, when Doug said he needed to go home to help Camille with the kids. I stayed, and around 2:00pm his breathing started to slow down. I just sat and held his hand until he finally stopped breathing.
I have to believe that he knew that I was there, that he wasn't alone. I know that the last few years of his life have been less than stellar. I never told him that I loved him while he was still able know. I hope he heard me at the end.
I know Brent doesn't understand why this is hitting me so hard, because he wasn't really much of a father at the end. When I was in university, and when I graduated, he was there for me, when Mom was busy with her new life in Oklahoma. When Kyle was born, he saw him as much as he good. He loved having a grandson so close and he was tickled when Mitchell was named after him.
He tried really hard to fight his demons, alcohol just got the best of him. I keep wondering if he had a place where he felt wanted as opposed to tolerated, if he would have drank as much as he did. I guess towards the end, the drinking probably helped with the pain.
Sunday at the funeral home was almost surreal. Within 30 minutes, I had made arrangements to have him cremated and $3000 I was done. Imagine, $3000 and no ceremony. That is just to pick him up, cremate him and put his remains in a box.
I was supposed to go and pick up the remains today, but I just couldn't. I can't avoid it any longer and I am going to have to go tomorrow. Just when I think that I am done and I can deal with his death something sets me off. I get an email from one of his old RCMP buddies or I get a phone call or sympathy card and it sets me off.
I think I will go for counselling. I need someone to talk to and I can't seem to ask Brent. How sad is that when you don' t feel like you can talk to your own husband. He hasn't been very supportative of this whole situation, but I know that I don't make it easy for people to help me, I am way to independant.
Maybe Monday I'll give Bayliss a call. Until then you are my best listener,
My brother and I had been to see him Friday night and he was in some pain, but he seemed to be okay. Saturday at around 8:20am I got a call at work that he was non-responsive and that I should go to the hospital.
I got there and it is a picture that I will have a tough time erasing from my memory. He was laying there with his eyes open but not seeing. They were glazed over like they weren' t real eyes.
We sat and held his hand and talked to him until just after noon, when Doug said he needed to go home to help Camille with the kids. I stayed, and around 2:00pm his breathing started to slow down. I just sat and held his hand until he finally stopped breathing.
I have to believe that he knew that I was there, that he wasn't alone. I know that the last few years of his life have been less than stellar. I never told him that I loved him while he was still able know. I hope he heard me at the end.
I know Brent doesn't understand why this is hitting me so hard, because he wasn't really much of a father at the end. When I was in university, and when I graduated, he was there for me, when Mom was busy with her new life in Oklahoma. When Kyle was born, he saw him as much as he good. He loved having a grandson so close and he was tickled when Mitchell was named after him.
He tried really hard to fight his demons, alcohol just got the best of him. I keep wondering if he had a place where he felt wanted as opposed to tolerated, if he would have drank as much as he did. I guess towards the end, the drinking probably helped with the pain.
Sunday at the funeral home was almost surreal. Within 30 minutes, I had made arrangements to have him cremated and $3000 I was done. Imagine, $3000 and no ceremony. That is just to pick him up, cremate him and put his remains in a box.
I was supposed to go and pick up the remains today, but I just couldn't. I can't avoid it any longer and I am going to have to go tomorrow. Just when I think that I am done and I can deal with his death something sets me off. I get an email from one of his old RCMP buddies or I get a phone call or sympathy card and it sets me off.
I think I will go for counselling. I need someone to talk to and I can't seem to ask Brent. How sad is that when you don' t feel like you can talk to your own husband. He hasn't been very supportative of this whole situation, but I know that I don't make it easy for people to help me, I am way to independant.
Maybe Monday I'll give Bayliss a call. Until then you are my best listener,
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Arrival
I had pretty much resigned myself that one day I would receive a knock on the door or a phone call informing me that my father had died. I had rehearsed the scenario in my mind many times and I was ready to deal with it.
What I hadn't rehearsed, planned for or anticipated was getting a phone call on July 31st and having a voice that I didn't recognize inform me that he, my dad, was at Kelsey's on Highway 2 and he was waiting for me to come pick him up.
When I got there, I didn't know what to do. He was skin and bones, I hugged him and I could feel all his ribs and his spine. His eyes were sunk into his head. He looked like the walking dead.
There was no way I could bring him home looking like that. The kids would have freaked and so would Brent, so I took him to the HoJo's. Brent and the kids were going to his family reunion so I could have Dad stay with me for a few days. Friday I took him to the out patient clinic in Courtice and they ran an EKG, an ultra sound and some blood tests, because he couldn't keep any food down. By Sunday he still couldn't eat or drink so I took him to the ER. They finally admitted him and kept him there for just over a week.
Turns out that he has a blockage at the base of his esophagus, a growth on the lining of his stomach and a CT scan indicates that he has tumours all through his abdomen, his lower lungs and his lymph nodes. He has cancer, and he has 3 to 4 months to live.
What I hadn't rehearsed, planned for or anticipated was getting a phone call on July 31st and having a voice that I didn't recognize inform me that he, my dad, was at Kelsey's on Highway 2 and he was waiting for me to come pick him up.
When I got there, I didn't know what to do. He was skin and bones, I hugged him and I could feel all his ribs and his spine. His eyes were sunk into his head. He looked like the walking dead.
There was no way I could bring him home looking like that. The kids would have freaked and so would Brent, so I took him to the HoJo's. Brent and the kids were going to his family reunion so I could have Dad stay with me for a few days. Friday I took him to the out patient clinic in Courtice and they ran an EKG, an ultra sound and some blood tests, because he couldn't keep any food down. By Sunday he still couldn't eat or drink so I took him to the ER. They finally admitted him and kept him there for just over a week.
Turns out that he has a blockage at the base of his esophagus, a growth on the lining of his stomach and a CT scan indicates that he has tumours all through his abdomen, his lower lungs and his lymph nodes. He has cancer, and he has 3 to 4 months to live.
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