Losing a Parent – Grieving The Loss of My Dad

This September marks the 15th anniversary of my dad’s passing and what would have been his 69th birthday. He was days away from his 55th birthday when we kissed him and held his hands for the last time. I will never forget the moment he took his last breathes or those minutes leading up to it. I could have never guessed that I would be losing a parent so soon or watching a parent fight for his life, let alone seeing him moving into the unknown.  There is also no way I could have predicted how my father becoming sick and losing his life would have such an impact on who I was or how I would continue to view the future ahead of me.

Grieving- Losing a Parent is Tough

I don’t think anyone at any age is ever prepared for losing a parent. Even if they have lived a long fulfilled life or have been suffering from an injury or illness with many years left to live. I don’t think one is ever totally prepared for the loss. I didn’t even grow up in my dad’s household or have a stable, consistent relationship with my dad and his death had an affect on me I could have never imagined. Grief can be a fickle bitch for sure and each of us deals with it differently.

Moments That Change You

I’ve included a couple paragraphs from a book I’m working on. It is from a day back in 2005 when I got one of the scariest and most horrible calls from my little sister. I was 26, recently married, and starting a new career. This day would mark the beginning of my dad’s journey to a diagnosis and a fight for the rest of his life. It would mark the beginning of the reality that I was losing a parent.

My little sister was crying and rambling a bunch of words at me. What? Huh? Say it again. Again. These are the moments that start to change you. This is when we start really finding out who we are.

My dad was being air lifted into Reno to a bigger hospital. He was found by a coworker on the ground next to the forklift he’d been operating. He was convulsing and seizing uncontrollably and they couldn’t get him to stop. He still hadn’t stopped. Hospital. Now. Except I had to grab my shit and drive 8 hours to get there. At least my husband is a rock star and drove us there. I was freaking out.

My sister was keeping me updated as much as she could. He was in the er. They were trying to stabilize him. Every time he would stop having seizures he was becoming combative. It was a non stop cycle. He was going to ICU and was going to be put into an induced coma. Huh? What? Why? Did they say why? Huh? Just get here sister. Please. We need you. Yep, I was really freaking out.

We did get there. Safe and sound. Rock star husband. I remember just sucking it up. Trying to ask questions when I could. We slept in our car in the parking lot. I think my little sister even slept in our car.

Every time they would start to pull him out of the coma he would go into seizures. He would become very combative. It is hard to remember how it went those first few weeks. He did wake up. He did stop seizing. Stopped being combative. He was scared and unsure and not well.

The doctors had done tests and scans. He had a grey area in his brain they were concerned about but wanted to give it a few days to see if it would decrease. My rock star husband took a flight home after about a week. I sat in that hospital every day with my sisters, my stepmom, my dad’s parents.  He went in for surgery to open up his skull and check his brain that second week. When the surgeon finally came out to talk to our family they had put us in a private meeting room. I knew it would be bad.

He had stage four cancer and not much time without treatment and not much time with treatment. They had removed what they could but they can’t take out live brain tissue. Well fuck. I held it together while my step mom lost her shit and my sisters bawled. Then I walked away to a quiet area in a different part of the hospital. I called my mom and uncontrollably ugly cried. She did her best to be my mom. Then I called my husband. He loved me and soothed me over that phone.

My dad had to wait about a week before being released. I was struggling. I started getting bloody noses. I was having horrible stomach issues. Diarrhea is not fun in a hospital. I was super emotional. I was trying to work over the phone. This was before  FaceTime and Zoom.

I ended up heading back home the day my dad was released from the hospital. At least he was going home. At least I was back home too. With my rock star husband. In our wonderful new home. Working my awesome job. I was worried every day though and so incredibly stressed. I was grouchy and snappy and confused. My dad is gonna die. Like soon. Dammit. I thought we would have so much time to be a better family.

I just want to throw out there that these paragraphs are from a very “rough” rough draft. I wanted to share them at this time because it helps show a little of the history and it is a very raw and open look into something that has incredibly affected who I have become.

When my dad was diagnosed with stage IV brain cancer (a glioblastoma to be exact), we were told he would have about 6 months with no treatment and he could  possibly have 17 months with treatment. It was an early death sentence any way you looked at it and it rocked our entire family to its core.

My Dad Was a Warrior

My dad was a fighter and a true warrior. He fought hard to have as much time living out his life that he could squeeze in. My da changed his diet, joined experimental treatments, under went multiple brain surgeries, and tried to live and enjoy life every day that he could get out of bed.

He put an immense amount of effort into his family. He pushed through to try to make a mark on his new grandsons and embed himself in their memories, spent time loving his wife, continued to nurture the relationship with his parents and siblings, and made sure his daughters knew they were the love and pride of his life.

Then he got to a point where he just couldn’t keep pushing through anymore, at no fault of his own. He was just so tired of feeling so sick at that point. That’s when things quickly moved to his final days. He was lucky though. In fact, we were all lucky. His desire to fight had granted him four and a half years before we said our final goodbyes.

How Did I With The Impending Loss of My Father?

Those four and a half years were very difficult on my dad. But they were also extremely hard for the rest of us. I can’t say what others did during this time to cope with what he was going through or what was to come but I know how I coped. Me, I know I sat with my dad on his porch one visit just sitting with him, quiet, enjoying the sunset like we’d always done on my visits. I remember I had wanted to talk to my dad about things from my childhood, things I struggled with, things I needed to have answers to and clarification that could only come from him.

I was recently pregnant and so excited, silently praying and crossing my fingers that my dad would get the opportunity to experience being a grandfather and what that love would be like for him. Ya, I made a choice. A choice I would then struggle with for many many years. I made the decision to just let it be, not ask for what I needed. It was a huge mistake on my part and I will never silence the needs I have in a situation like this again.

The Reality of Losing a Parent

The day my dad took his last breath proved to be a relief and the beginning of so much change. It was a relief because we knew he wasn’t suffering anymore and he could be free but everything changed. My family changed. I changed.

A few years into my dad’s diagnosis I became depressed and overwhelmed. I was internalizing an immense amount of guilt, disappointment, and so much sadness. I was a new mom and trying so hard to be present and available for my new babies but I was really struggling.

Get Help When You Are Struggling

A few years into my dad’s diagnosis I ended up going on an antidepressant. My doctor posed the idea to me after noticing I was struggling. Because I have rheumatoid arthritis any stress that I can’t seem to work through will become a physical problem for me causing lots of flares and added pain. He wanted to put me on a med that would do double duty in helping relieve some of my pain and help with the depression I seemed to be harboring. I ended up being on the medication (Cymbalta to be exact) until a few years after my dad had passed.

It absolutely helped me maneuver through all of what I was feeling and the minute I felt that it was silencing me too much, he took me off of it. I am not one who had ever or continues to struggle with depression or anxiety but I did during this time of my life and I am grateful for a doctor who was able to listen and help me through it.

What Has My Dads Passing Taught Me?

At this time, I am not comfortable sharing those last minutes with my dad. It was a very private and special experience for me, my sisters, and my stepmom but I hope to share more in the book I’m working on and at a later time. I said goodbye to my grandfather within a year of my dad and then lost my grandmother less than a year later. It was a very devastating couple of years.

After watching all my dad went through I realized life is so very unpredictable, insanely unfair, never guaranteed, and only what we ourselves make of it. My husband and I began to realize that whatever we are given, it is up to us to grasp it tightly, run with it, appreciate what the experience might be, and enjoy every single moment as if it is the last.  We try so hard to not sweat the little things, to appreciate each second in any way we can, to find strength in each other and our boys, and to just live.

Grieving The Loss of My Dad Over The Years

Even as I sit here today, the tears stream down my face and my chest fills with pressure. Fifteen years gone and I still miss my dad every day.

I had what I refer to as a phone relationship with my dad. Growing up in my mother’s home, I would only see my dad consistently in the summer and as I became a teenager that time in the summer would get shorter and shorter. But my dad did do his best to call me once a week when I was little and as I got older I would be the one to call him.

For many years after his death I would go to grab the phone to call him, wanting to share things about my boys or ask for advice, wanting to hear him laugh and call me baby girl. It would kill me every single time I did it and had to remind myself I couldn’t call him. I have a voice message he left me at some point saved to my phone and for a long time. I would play it just so I could hear his voice and remember what it sounded like. There were even times I would call his house phone knowing if the machine picked up, it would be his voice and I could pretend he was really home.

The First Few Years Are Really Tough

In those first few years I would sit in the shower and cry my eyes out. I would yell how angry I was at him and whoever was responsible for robbing my kids of their grandpa and my sister her dad to walk her down the aisle. I severed friendships because I felt no one understood what I was feeling or why I felt the way I did. Losing a parent really affected me.

Years later I realized my mistake and did my best to repair what I could of those friendships but it was very tough working through all of those emotions. I look a lot like my dad and felt that members of his family did not want to see me because it was too hard for them.

The little bit of time I did spend with my stepmom those first few years, I could see the pain in her eyes every time she looked at me. My little sister would see me and comment multiple times how much I looked like dad and how crazy it was. If anyone knew that, it was me. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw him. I still see him but it’s not what jumps to my mind right away. Now though I feel blessed when I catch a glimpse of him staring back at me, those eyes, that forehead, and that freaking widows peak. I am quickly making my way to the age he was diagnosed and it is terrifying! But it is not something I can change.

Honoring My Dads Memory

My little sister and I have always tried to honor his day of passing and his birthday. We stay devoted to his favorite football team (go NINERS)! Also, we try to make his faves (spaghetti, brownies, rice Krispy treats) on those days. We both talk about him regularly and do our best to keep him in our children’s lives and minds. I feel him close often and know he is always keeping an eye on my boys and my sister and her kids.

Somehow his love for Nascar has crept into my boys from time to time and it makes me laugh. We hate that he has missed so much but we can not control all things. I still miss him just as much as the minute he left this earth. I still crave his hugs, his voice, his humor, his silliness, his laugh and I still so easily cry when I think about it all too much.

Grief is such a fickle bitch and will affect us all in different ways and at different times. Losing a parent isn’t something they give you a handbook for. We can’t predict what the journey will be for ourselves or others. We can just be honest, empathetic, allow the time, offer the love. I’ve watched my sister grieve in her way, struggle at times and try to be a constant branch for her to always grab. I know my dad is beyond proud of who she is, who I am, where we are.

Happy Birthday Daddy

So on what would have been his 69th year … Happy Birthday Daddy! As easy as they say it gets, it never really does. I still miss you like crazy and wish you were here to experience so many of the memories and moments with us. I’d like to think you come visit my porch on occasion, join me when I water the grass or walk the dogs.

I know you keep an eye on my crazy boys and curse and laugh right along with me at all their antics. I’m blessed for the glimpses of you on their faces and when I catch you staring at me in the mirror. I hope this birthday allowed more peace to follow you, the best sunrise and sunset to date, stars so bright we still see the same ones and you will always feel my love surrounding you. Happiest of Birthdays to you Dad. I love you forever and ever with a big crunch on top.

Just Know You Are Not Alone in Losing a Parent

Thanks for sticking in there for this longer read. Losing a parent is very difficult. If you are dealing with depression or anxiety, please have a discussion with your doctor to find what would be best for you. If you are struggling with the loss of a loved one, please know that you are not alone. Many communities have groups for those navigating grief and I urge you to look for one.

Talk to you soon!