Headstones

I went back to NY this past weekend to see my mom and my sister. My mom and I went to see my dad on Sunday. I was fine all the way to the cemetery, even pulling in and around to where he is. As soon as I walked up and saw his name in stone, those born-and-died dates in stone, however, I lost it.

Most funeral homes put simple metal markers until a real stone is ordered. The one we used - boy, I was actually quite impressed! We are currently awaiting his veteran's stone, paid for of course by the military, and we haven't yet picked out the regular stone - the stone that will also have my mom's name one day, too. While we wait, we have the funeral home stone.

Yes, our funeral home made us a small stone, about the size of an iPad, with my dad's name and birth-and-death dates (along with the funeral home name). But they didn't give us a crappy metal one. They gave us an actual stone. I was sad - am sad - but was also happy. We don't need to rush to get a real marker, we can save up and pick out the one my mom wants. We have this nice one while we wait.

1 Month

How has it already been a month? 4 weeks ago exactly I got the worst phone call I've yet to get. My sister called me, sobbing, to tell me that I had to come home. I was in shock the entire drive. I was in pain. I was crying one moment and staring blankly out the window the next. My boyfriend drove me the nearly five hours home. I was ruined.

I'm going to the doctor this week finally. My mom's doctor put her on a sleeping pill (Ambien, essentially) and Xanax. Can't wait for my doctor to see me, see the weight I've gained. I've been eating my feelings and the few times I've gone to the gym have been completely forced. 

I feel lost without my dad. Just knowing he was there kept me happy, comfortable. One month is both a long and incredibly short time. Has it really been a month? I still feel like I got that phone call last weekend, yesterday even.

Snowblower

We got hit with a huge snowstorm yesterday; my mom was without power for about 6 hours and I was so worried about her. My dad never showed her how to hook up the generator to the house and they had only bought their snowblower the week before he passed away so she doesn't know how to use that either. I was so worried about her and still am. I did, however, remind her that I spent 22 years in that house and we never had a generator and we got on just fine and that she would be fine.

My dad took care of her. he took care of us. He made sure we were warm and could get in and out of the house. The last image I have of my dad is actually a video my mom took of him snowblowing with the new toy. I laughed at how the video was sideways; I jokingly rolled my eyes that my mom took a video of my dad using a snowblower on the lawn. Now I treasure that video. I'm so glad I have it and I'm so glad I can laugh at it. It is so my dad to snowblow a path for the dog in the lawn and it is so my mom to record it - and to record it and send it sideways.

I just re-watched it and teared up. I am holding back the tears as best I can as I am currently at work. I don't want to draw attention and make myself more upset...

It was four days before his heart attack. I can't believe this was just four days before...

Grief

I Googled how to handle grief the other day. I just didn't (and still don't) know where to start. In many ways, I feel like he isn't gone; that this didn't happen. The moments when I realize yes, yes this did happen are the moments I shake and/or cry and/or stare off into nothingness. The moments are so painful and I just didn't know where to turn.

I know far too many friends who have lost parents, yet I still don't know how to talk to them about losing my dad. One of my very best friends lost her mom to lung cancer and I have trouble talking to her about losing my dad. We are so close and I am so shut-in.

In my Googling, I found this event called "The Dinner Party." It is essentially a potluck in your area with people going through similar losses or recent losses like yourself; you can talk and share your grief. I just got contacted by the program coordinator and am waiting on the local event coordinator to do her magic because honestly, I don't even know where to start. I haven't told anyone I signed up for this - not my boyfriend, not my best friends. I am struggling so hard with missing my dad that I don't know what to do.

Yes, I know I should and most likely will see a medical professional - I was even meant to have a doctor's appointment tomorrow but here in New England, we like to get blizzards - but for right now, this is what I am trying. The Dinner Party and this blog.

There, I will let out the words to others and hear their pain. Here, I will remember my dad for the amazing father he was to me. Here, I will share photos of him and dream of the day that I hope exists again when I will sass him and he will sass me back.

Here.

Guilt

I am a scientist in medical device research and development. I trust science and I trust modern medicine with everything I know and hold dear. Science and medicine help me understand things and they make things clearer. What they cannot do, however, is explain this loss.

My dad had a massive and completely unexpected heart attack. He had no known heart problems - no cardiovascular disease, no high blood pressure, not even high cholesterol. It was in his family history - his father passed away from the same thing at only 50 years old - but previous medical procedures had all come up fine. He had had successful surgeries. How could this happen? How could we have no warning or way to prevent it? Where were you when I needed you, medicine? Where were you???

The same things that leave my lost also bring me comfort. Because my dad had no known heart problems, there was nothing we could have done. We couldn't have stopped this or prevented it. It's not our fault. I miss him but I do not have that weight of guilt others might have when they lose a loved one. No - I'm not saying it's ever your fault, but I do know that many people feel guilt; I have seen it. My sister, a nurse, talked to a nurse at the hospital where they brought my dad. The nurse told her that even if he had been right there when it happened, they wouldn't have been able to do anything either; it was just the type of heart attack that it was. It was quick and he was in no pain. I am so happy he was in no pain; the loving and caring man that he was did not deserve pain.

I am lucky to not have that guilt; I couldn't have stopped this.

Was

Who was my dad.

I hate using "was" - and I find myself internally freaking out every time I accidentally use present tense. I even started crying in the car with my boyfriend this weekend over that simple word. My dad may have passed away, but I want to believe and need to believe he will always be an "is" with me. He will always be my dad, he will always live with me. To the world, maybe he is a was but to me, he just is.

My dad was a man of many trades: a retired deputy sheriff, a dirt track race car driver, a fisherman, a hunter, a Wal-Mart employee, an honorably discharged Marine, a home construction expert, a taxidermist. My dad loved animals and taught me to love them, too. He wore pants with holes in them  out in public (which he more often than not had "fixed" with duct tape) because "If people don't like what I'm wearing, they don't have to look at me." He loved me and my mom and my sister and my brother. He cared about everyone and never about himself.

He was probably disappointed I didn't share his love of deer hunting and venison steaks, but I know he was damn proud of the person I am who he helped raise.

To me, my dad is.

$9,260

Today I wrote a check for $9,260. It is the biggest check I have ever written and it was to pay for my father's funeral. Is it weird to say that funerals are cheaper than I expected? $9,260 seems like a bargain to me.

There are things in life you never expect; my father's death is top of my list. Paying for his funeral is number 2.

My name is Heather. I decided to start this blog because I just don't know what to do to help myself heal and other people suggested this as an outlet. I am 31; my father was 71. He had a completely unexpected, massive heart attack. We - my family - are trying to figure out how to handle ourselves. We are currently in the "box-checking" phase: making sure payments on the house are taken care of, making sure my mom is ok by herself with the dog and cat, making sure we get her in a car she can both drive and afford, etc. We are figuring it out. Box-checking I know how to figure out.

Life after my father, I do not.