Feliz dia de los Padres

No matter how much time passes, the void left by my dads death will never be filled. I am missing you greatly, still, today, always.

My dad and mom doing the sexy beach thing, what the hell was he thinking with that suit?

United States Army: served in Korea

One of many girlfriends, he loved the ladies.

Cousin Tony, my dad and Tia Felisa

That's one big piece of meat! It was a gift from one of his nephews.



Dad, you were perfect, and I'm not just saying that because I am your daughter. I have heard it said time and time again by everyone who ever knew you. Your sense of humor, your love of life, your devotion to family, your honesty, your work ethic and your compassion all traits I sure hope you passed on to me.
Te adoro, estaras siempre en mi corazon.

The end

Dearest Huckleberries,

With overwhelming sadness I sit here trying to decide what to tell you about the last week. It was a horrible week and the details are many. Death finally arrived on Sunday, May 25th at around 6AM. We brought our loved one home on Thursday, deciding that dying at home was perhaps the only viable, yet painful thing left to do. Hospice care was in place, as was all the equipment necessary to make the last days as comfortable as possible. Between Thursday night when we arrived home from the hospital to Sunday morning when this part of my life ended, we had a steady stream of people in and out of the house. Doctors, nurses, friends and family all working to making things as easy as possible under the circumstances.

I slept in the room with "love" every night, OK truth is I didn't really sleep but I was there to do all that needed to be done. I was there all night to listen to the labored breathing, and the oxygen machine. I was there all night to do things I never imagined I could do but did, all in the hope that the suffering was lessened by my feeble nursing attempts. I was there all night to wonder why and to fear the inevitable end. I was there standing by the bed as the last breath was taken on Sunday morning. I made each and every phone call to everyone who needed to be informed. I made all the arrangements. I was there each and every moment of the last 7 weeks. I was there until the very end.

The images from this journey creep into my brain every so often filling me with grief and undeniable pain. Somewhere in my head I can still hear the gurgling, the suction machine and the oxygen tank. Somewhere in my head I can still hear that last breath. Somewhere in my head I can still see those gorgeous blue eyes, empty and awaiting death. I am physically exhausted, emotionally numb. I have moments when the sadness makes me want to curl into a fetal position. And moments when I make a list of all the things that need to still be done. This I do while feeling completely detached from the task at hand. I have already started to sort through stuff, deciding what should be thrown away, what should I give away, what should be donated and of course there is that pile of stuff that I can't stand to even look at right now.

I wasn't ready for the "dying" part. I knew it was coming, I was expecting it, but I wasn't ready for it to show up without warning me. It never gave me a sign that it was so close and for this I am angry. Would it had been easier if I had been told it was moments away? Perhaps not. Are we ever really ready to face the inevitable end? Sometimes this journey flashes before me in short snippets. Images of various scenes, the hospital, a nurse, the cafeteria, the blood, and the faces of my family and the worse one, the body being taken away.

I am still mostly silent. I don't feel the need to say much, everything seems so trivial. I speak when I have to, otherwise I prefer not to. Sometimes the silence in my own head is deafening. ( I now understand that phrase... silence being deafening) As yet another saying goes "life does go on" and so we shall. In time. Slowly.

It sucks to be me right now but there are some things I am grateful for, despite my grief. I witnessed many random acts of kindness during this journey. There was a complete stranger who bought me coffee, or the one who held my hand never speaking a word, another who brought us lunch, people we didn't know, who witnessed our pain and tried to make it better. I am grateful for the medical team who were wonderful and compassionate. The hospice team was a true gift. All the people who came to the funeral, family and friends, I am grateful. To all of you, who kept me company via your comments, emails, voice mails and texts. To my comadres, who daily, for this entire time "had my back". To Tony and Daisy, I can never truly put into words what the two of you have meant to me during this. Your love, and support reminded me every day that I would be OK. I know what a sacrifice you made to be here this week from cash, to work, to your personal lives and I am so unbelievably grateful. To the love of my vida, yet again you sat quietly in the background, but trust me, not once did I ever forget you were there. Not once did I ever forget you were ready to do whatever it took to hold me together. I am truly grateful for all of you.

Today, as I have done every day this week, I remind myself that there are wonderful memories to fill some of the void. I remind myself that yes, it will get better and the void will get smaller and I'll be OK, in time. Slowly. Ever so slowly. For now I will go back to making my lists and sorting through stuff and allow myself the time to curl up into a fetal position if time allows, crying when I can't stop the steam of tears. For today I will pretend it's a "normal" day, cuddle my cat (if he lets me) and look forward to the day when life will be almost normal, almost normal in a different way.

Besos, Es

Dear Huckleberries

Dearest Huckleberries,

This horrible journey continues. This week we were faced with more internal bleeding and the need for yet another pint of blood. The double pneumonia is worse. There is an infection just about every where, and the body just keeps laboring on. Almost on a daily basis the doctors remind us that "today could be the day, the end". Every day we wait and watch someone we adore slowly die.

Almost every day I am faced with more decisions that need to be made, and more papers to sign. And every night as I say goodnight, I wonder if this is last time I'll witness the labored breathing, if while I lay sleepless and crying in bed the phone will ring and it will be "the call". Everyday I wonder if I'll make it through the day without wailing like a banshee. Everyday I wonder why. Everyday I wonder how much stronger I can or need to be.

I stand strong and silent most of the time. I understand that I set the mood for all the other family members. If I fall apart so shall they. I am most impressive when dealing with doctors and having to explain to the rest of the family what is happening. I am concise, keeping my words simple and I have mastered my "poker face". Alone in bed or in the shower it's my chance to whimper. I find I also cry at the strangest times. Like when asked "would you like fries with that?", or when a nurse recently said "what a lovely t shirt", or the morning the mechanic asked me to sign my bill, and of course the day the sales clerk asked if he could help, I whimpered and just walked away.

I am tired. Tired emotionally and physically. I want to sleep for hours, that deep undisturbed sleep. I am tired of forcing myself to eat at least one meal a day. I have lost 18 pounds. I am tired of being strong. I am tired of driving. I am tired of hearing about God and her abilities to heal, decide ones fate and of the comfort I should be feeling if I focus on God. I am tired. Tired.

On a brighter note, I have at long last been given the "balls of steel" I have been looking for. The lovely WNG as awarded me some. I am going to carry those around proudly today, gracias you made me chuckle which beats the hell of of whimpering.

Lastly, thank you (again and again) for all the love and kindness. I am humbled by how you manage to consistently check up on me, thank you for taking the time to be here.

Besos, Es

bedside

Dearest Huckleberries,

I am currently maintaining a bedside vigil. Just waiting for things to end. We have heard from the doctors that this journey could be over any day. (of course I have heard that since last week.) We wait, and sit and wait. I ponder all the "why is this happening?" and all the "what if's" and all the "then what". I have no answers.

I am frustrated and have many moments of overwhelming grief.
Sometimes we are given a glimmer of hope and then it's quickly taken away. Then we just sit and wait some more. I find I am more quiet now, sometimes just refusing to speak because I fear the wail that might escape my lips before I can stop it. Sometimes I just keep my words to a minimum, idle chit chat at best. Sleep is becoming a distant memory. A wrong number in the middle of the night, makes my body shake uncontrollably and mother fucker has become my choice response.

I am now entering the numb stage of my emotions but before completely caving in to that desire to feel nada, I want to thank you. Gracias for keeping me company. The warm loving thoughts, the positive energy, the emails, comments, phone calls, and text messages, muchas gracias. I am truly touched by your kindness. You have proven once again that each and every one of you is simply fabulous.

To those of you who are my blog pals, talk about fabulous berries! You crack me up and I do feel the love. I am astounded by the kindness of strangers (let's face it, you are all a bit strange). I am truly grateful for your friendship.

To my comadres del alma, who would have thought that meeting all those years ago in "latino Leaders" would bring us to this sisterhood. Gracias, estaran siempre en mi corazon, las adoro.

To my cousins, Virginia and Aury, coming back from the hospital to a clean house and home cooked meals is a gift. Gracias, I have no idea how I will ever repay all those random acts of kindness you have both constantly given. To Tony and Daisy, what can I say about both of you. You have no idea how much help you have been from far away. I love you.

To the love of my vida (you know who you are) You are constantly picking up the pieces of my broken heart, so unselfishly standing by and loving me unconditionally. Knowing you are standing on the sidelines waiting to catch me, brings me peace.

I look forward to all you hugs and love, to the promises of vodka, and the silly thoughts. I look forward to the positive words, it's what keeps me a little sane right now. I am grateful beyond words.

Besos, Es