It's been two and a half weeks now, and I still can't believe he's gone. This morning (and every morning) I wake up and feel the urge to see my Dad. I want to make breakfast for him, or go visit him in the hospital. A library book I put on hold before has just come in. Mail with his name on it arrives in the mailbox every day. His pillow is still dented where he laid on it... everything seems normal except he isn't here. He was in the hospital for two and a half months and I buried him in the ground! But I see his towels and toothbrush and his cup in the bathroom. I see his gloves where he put them down in the living room. It's [i]this[/i] life that I'm trapped in now that feels unreal, like I went to bed on March 24 and never woke up from a nightmare. If I could just wake up I'd see him again.
They published my letter in the Edmonton Journal today. It's a response to a man who was transferred into the same unit in the hospital as Dad, a man we talked to fairly regularly, who's still there and wants the right to die. The paper did a front page article on him, and I was so mad I wrote a letter in response and they printed it. They asked for a picture of Dad, and I sent them everything I had on the computer. So now Dad is in the paper for the second time, after all those decades as a subscriber, with a big picture in the letters page and everything.
It's getting harder to keep going on. I've been doing yardwork, talking with friends and family whenever possible, just going out to places like malls and restaurants, and so on. But it's been three and a half weeks, and my friends and family had to get back to their own lives. And whenever I go home there's that tremendous screaming silence where Dad used to be. I'm crying more and more. Not sure how long I can take this.
5 comments:
Today is the funeral. I don't want any of this! It's like a nightmare that just won't stop.
I just want him to be alive.
It's been two and a half weeks now, and I still can't believe he's gone. This morning (and every morning) I wake up and feel the urge to see my Dad. I want to make breakfast for him, or go visit him in the hospital. A library book I put on hold before has just come in. Mail with his name on it arrives in the mailbox every day. His pillow is still dented where he laid on it... everything seems normal except he isn't here. He was in the hospital for two and a half months and I buried him in the ground! But I see his towels and toothbrush and his cup in the bathroom. I see his gloves where he put them down in the living room. It's [i]this[/i] life that I'm trapped in now that feels unreal, like I went to bed on March 24 and never woke up from a nightmare. If I could just wake up I'd see him again.
They published my letter in the Edmonton Journal today. It's a response to a man who was transferred into the same unit in the hospital as Dad, a man we talked to fairly regularly, who's still there and wants the right to die. The paper did a front page article on him, and I was so mad I wrote a letter in response and they printed it. They asked for a picture of Dad, and I sent them everything I had on the computer. So now Dad is in the paper for the second time, after all those decades as a subscriber, with a big picture in the letters page and everything.
Saw your blog link in a comics post, and then saw this post. I'm so very, very sorry. You and your Dad (may he rest in peace) are in my prayers.
ChastMastr
Thank you.
Here is the letter I sent the paper, if anyone is interested:
http://www.edmontonjournal.com/opinion/lived+fought+loved+until+that+very+last+breath/6461856/story.html
They didn't include the photo of him in the web version, but it was there in the print edition.
It's getting harder to keep going on. I've been doing yardwork, talking with friends and family whenever possible, just going out to places like malls and restaurants, and so on. But it's been three and a half weeks, and my friends and family had to get back to their own lives. And whenever I go home there's that tremendous screaming silence where Dad used to be. I'm crying more and more. Not sure how long I can take this.
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