A post about Dad

Dad had another stroke yesterday. It's left him unable to communicate or walk. He had to have oxygen for a little while and was having difficulty swallowing. Basically, this is the end happening and I'm not sure when it's going to be the end. But it's soon now. It's weird and sad. I always thought I'd be ready because I knew he was much older when I was born, but I don't feel ready. I don't feel like I'm old enough to lose a parent. There was supposed to be more time. I've always been a Daddy's Girl and this is hard. I don't like the anticipation and the not-knowing, wondering what happens after, if he's scared, if he's ready, if he knows what's going on, if he's in pain or confused or at peace... I had those same wonders about Emily as her heart continued to beat. If she was there or not... It's heartbreaking. I'm trying to keep it together, but this current grief chapter I'm living is really taking a toll. It doesn't help that my mother thinks I need to ask my doctor for antidepressants to get through Emily's birthday. I'm not depressed. I'm sad. I feel alone in spite of having supportive friends. I can't talk about how I feel with my mother because her narcissism will minimize my grief and I don't want to put myself through that. So, I'm going to take it one day at a time. If Dad dies tomorrow, I'm going to accept my new grief tomorrow. When Emily's birthday arrives, I'm going to accept that grief on her birthday. I'm going to get through it like I got through (and get through) my miscarriage anniversaries. It'll just be another Sad Day I mark on the calendar. But for now, Dad's here and he told me he loves me and I'm going to keep that with me.

I was looking through my Box of Things on Sunday and found the letters he wrote me while I was living in a college dorm. I always got letters from him, some handwritten, some typed. Always signed by hand, though, Love Dad. He sent me silly jokes, weird facts, or comics from the newspaper. I never got letters from Mom, just him. I'm glad I saved them.