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Thanks for all the responses to the last two posts.
I took today off as a personal day. Which I'm really glad I did. I kind of needed that space. Also with the Doctor's appointment - I realized I couldn't juggle both today.
Spent most of it fasting and binge watching "Only Murders in the Building" on Hulu, while archiving. It doesn't require a lot of attention and is rather funny in places.
The archiving of old metas, essays, reviews, fic into Ao3 has born fruit. I've gotten quite a few comments thanking me for doing it - often for meta that I originally didn't think fit or wasn't polished enough. Just got one for an old essay on the Angel the Series S5 episode "Why We Fight", where I made someone's night.
At the Doctor's appointment (a physical), I told her about my grief (mainly to see if some of my ailments are a)grief, b)menopause, c)thyroid, or something else.).
Doctor: I don't know. There's really no way of knowing. But I can test for the thyroid again. As for the grief...don't block it. The common response is not to think about it - it's better if you do and allow yourself to grieve.
ME: I kind did that yesterday.
Doctor: Regarding going down and helping out...I'm going through the same thing with my mother-in-law now, and a lot of people seem to have lost someone recently - most of my patients in fact. (Well, that's gloomy. Although I suppose it's nice not to be alone?) Two questions: First, do you want to be involved in the funeral arrangements or planning?
ME: No. Definitely not. [I don't enjoy planning things, whether they be weddings, funerals, anniversaries...]
Doctor: Second question - if you go down will you be able to help out and solve problems, or will you become a hindrance and create anxiety?
Me: The latter. (While I'd like to be super shadowkat leaping tall buildings in a single bound, I'm well aware that I'm not - and handling death, illness, and funerals is not my strong suit. I'm a lot like my father in this respect. )
Doctor: Then don't beat yourself up over it. Take time to grieve, take time off from work if you need to - take the bereavement -
Me: Well, the funeral may not be until September..
Doctor: That's a shame - it's better if you can get it away with quickly.
[Tell that to the church who chose to redo its parking lot this summer as opposed to during 2021, which would have made more sense.]
Doctor: Also, you want to keep your mother busy and maybe go down for a vacation and do some mother/daughter time...since she was a caregiver for so long and..
I told my mother all of this and she agreed with everything but that last bit.
Mother: I don't need to be kept busy. Also I wasn't the sole care giver, he had others doing it. Oh and they are all sad and miss him terribly. I was greatly touched by the fact that the nurses who cared for him miss him and were saddened by his death. Also, I'm a tough old broad and can take of myself. I do not need you to come down and keep me busy or occupied. I have plenty of friends and folks here. Also your brother's here all week. Only come down if you need to come down, don't do it for me.
In other words, she'd rather I stayed put and dealt with my grief on my own or better yet find a grief counselor.
Apparently I gave mother the impression that I'm struggling with this more than I am, and getting ill.
Uhm no. Those symptoms could also be menopause, post-nasal drip, and pre-existing IBS. Plus side-effects of metroformin, which the doctor confirmed causes naseua and loose bowels.
Actually, the hot flashes have calmed down a bit. I still think they might be connected to chocolate and sugar.
My mother and I are prone to hyperbole when we talk to each other. I honestly do not know why. We actually get along much better from a distance. She can stress me out when I'm with her in person.
**
At any rate, I cried myself out yesterday, by 5pm, I was exhausted and all cried out. You can only bawl for so long before you finally wear yourself out and your body calls a halt to it and says, okay that was fun, let's stop now and do something else?
And, I've been grieving my Dad for some time now. But, also, I'm relieved he passed finally. I know he's at peace now. As my Aunt K said, his struggles are finally over. Kind of had a conversation today with him in my head - where he gave me permission not to go down to Hilton Head right now.
Not to rush it. He didn't do that with his parents, he let his siblings take care of things.
I'm comfortably numb now. No longer flooded with thoughts of my father, or memories. They are there. I'm not blocking them. But this weekend they kind of flooded me, along with the realization that I wouldn't hear him laugh again (my father had a booming laugh), or his voice, or see him smile (although my brother does resemble him in some ways).
But his voice is in my head. And what he taught me stays with me. He's imprinted on me in ways I can't quite explain. And the memories - 98% of them good ones (I've been lucky in that way) - will always stay with me.
My father taught me to treat everyone equally, treat the Secretary the same as the CEO, he used to state. With the same respect. And if you said anything racist or anti-semitic around him, he'd call you on it. He hated things like Playboy, which he found objectifying and often cruel to women. He taught me to question everything, constantly, and never stop learning.
For a man who some said looked like Hugh Hefner, when he was much younger - he couldn't have been more the opposite. Hefner would have repulsed my father. For me? My Dad was like Dick Van Dyke (who I adored because he reminded me of my Dad). Kind of a mix of Dick van Dyke and Dennis the Mennis's father. In old pictures, my parents kind of resembled Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore.
He gave me the skills to thrive in the world I live in. And he died - with unconditional love, I knew I had his, and he had mine. Not everyone has that. So, I'm grateful. I'm also grateful that we got twelve more years with him. Some more painful than others, but I don't regret any of them.
He died at the age of 87, living a full life. And everyone who knew him, remembers him with kindness. If he thought ill of someone? He kept it to himself and never told them. He always treated others with kindness, and he abhorred violence.
The world, I think, was a better place with my father in it. And it will be a lesser one with him gone. There's now a hole in the world that my father used to fill. And I'm not sure I'll ever find a way of filling it. Perhaps I shouldn't even try.
This by no means will be the last post in which I talk about my father. For writing is how I handle pain and grief. It's how he might have handled it - until he couldn't do it any longer. We were both wordsmiths.
I took today off as a personal day. Which I'm really glad I did. I kind of needed that space. Also with the Doctor's appointment - I realized I couldn't juggle both today.
Spent most of it fasting and binge watching "Only Murders in the Building" on Hulu, while archiving. It doesn't require a lot of attention and is rather funny in places.
The archiving of old metas, essays, reviews, fic into Ao3 has born fruit. I've gotten quite a few comments thanking me for doing it - often for meta that I originally didn't think fit or wasn't polished enough. Just got one for an old essay on the Angel the Series S5 episode "Why We Fight", where I made someone's night.
At the Doctor's appointment (a physical), I told her about my grief (mainly to see if some of my ailments are a)grief, b)menopause, c)thyroid, or something else.).
Doctor: I don't know. There's really no way of knowing. But I can test for the thyroid again. As for the grief...don't block it. The common response is not to think about it - it's better if you do and allow yourself to grieve.
ME: I kind did that yesterday.
Doctor: Regarding going down and helping out...I'm going through the same thing with my mother-in-law now, and a lot of people seem to have lost someone recently - most of my patients in fact. (Well, that's gloomy. Although I suppose it's nice not to be alone?) Two questions: First, do you want to be involved in the funeral arrangements or planning?
ME: No. Definitely not. [I don't enjoy planning things, whether they be weddings, funerals, anniversaries...]
Doctor: Second question - if you go down will you be able to help out and solve problems, or will you become a hindrance and create anxiety?
Me: The latter. (While I'd like to be super shadowkat leaping tall buildings in a single bound, I'm well aware that I'm not - and handling death, illness, and funerals is not my strong suit. I'm a lot like my father in this respect. )
Doctor: Then don't beat yourself up over it. Take time to grieve, take time off from work if you need to - take the bereavement -
Me: Well, the funeral may not be until September..
Doctor: That's a shame - it's better if you can get it away with quickly.
[Tell that to the church who chose to redo its parking lot this summer as opposed to during 2021, which would have made more sense.]
Doctor: Also, you want to keep your mother busy and maybe go down for a vacation and do some mother/daughter time...since she was a caregiver for so long and..
I told my mother all of this and she agreed with everything but that last bit.
Mother: I don't need to be kept busy. Also I wasn't the sole care giver, he had others doing it. Oh and they are all sad and miss him terribly. I was greatly touched by the fact that the nurses who cared for him miss him and were saddened by his death. Also, I'm a tough old broad and can take of myself. I do not need you to come down and keep me busy or occupied. I have plenty of friends and folks here. Also your brother's here all week. Only come down if you need to come down, don't do it for me.
In other words, she'd rather I stayed put and dealt with my grief on my own or better yet find a grief counselor.
Apparently I gave mother the impression that I'm struggling with this more than I am, and getting ill.
Uhm no. Those symptoms could also be menopause, post-nasal drip, and pre-existing IBS. Plus side-effects of metroformin, which the doctor confirmed causes naseua and loose bowels.
Actually, the hot flashes have calmed down a bit. I still think they might be connected to chocolate and sugar.
My mother and I are prone to hyperbole when we talk to each other. I honestly do not know why. We actually get along much better from a distance. She can stress me out when I'm with her in person.
**
At any rate, I cried myself out yesterday, by 5pm, I was exhausted and all cried out. You can only bawl for so long before you finally wear yourself out and your body calls a halt to it and says, okay that was fun, let's stop now and do something else?
And, I've been grieving my Dad for some time now. But, also, I'm relieved he passed finally. I know he's at peace now. As my Aunt K said, his struggles are finally over. Kind of had a conversation today with him in my head - where he gave me permission not to go down to Hilton Head right now.
Not to rush it. He didn't do that with his parents, he let his siblings take care of things.
I'm comfortably numb now. No longer flooded with thoughts of my father, or memories. They are there. I'm not blocking them. But this weekend they kind of flooded me, along with the realization that I wouldn't hear him laugh again (my father had a booming laugh), or his voice, or see him smile (although my brother does resemble him in some ways).
But his voice is in my head. And what he taught me stays with me. He's imprinted on me in ways I can't quite explain. And the memories - 98% of them good ones (I've been lucky in that way) - will always stay with me.
My father taught me to treat everyone equally, treat the Secretary the same as the CEO, he used to state. With the same respect. And if you said anything racist or anti-semitic around him, he'd call you on it. He hated things like Playboy, which he found objectifying and often cruel to women. He taught me to question everything, constantly, and never stop learning.
For a man who some said looked like Hugh Hefner, when he was much younger - he couldn't have been more the opposite. Hefner would have repulsed my father. For me? My Dad was like Dick Van Dyke (who I adored because he reminded me of my Dad). Kind of a mix of Dick van Dyke and Dennis the Mennis's father. In old pictures, my parents kind of resembled Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore.
He gave me the skills to thrive in the world I live in. And he died - with unconditional love, I knew I had his, and he had mine. Not everyone has that. So, I'm grateful. I'm also grateful that we got twelve more years with him. Some more painful than others, but I don't regret any of them.
He died at the age of 87, living a full life. And everyone who knew him, remembers him with kindness. If he thought ill of someone? He kept it to himself and never told them. He always treated others with kindness, and he abhorred violence.
The world, I think, was a better place with my father in it. And it will be a lesser one with him gone. There's now a hole in the world that my father used to fill. And I'm not sure I'll ever find a way of filling it. Perhaps I shouldn't even try.
This by no means will be the last post in which I talk about my father. For writing is how I handle pain and grief. It's how he might have handled it - until he couldn't do it any longer. We were both wordsmiths.
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"You can only bawl for so long before you finally wear yourself out and your body calls a halt to it" - so true. It took me over a year to finally stop bawling about my BFF, but he died young, and didn't get the full life your dad had. I finally got to the point where I was boring myself, and decided to put it in a box and leave it.
Sending hugs.
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Your dad sounds like a great man. I'm so sorry for your loss, and it is nice that you have the memories to cherish/help you hold on to him.
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