Yesterday morning, my oldest brother gave me a call about taking Dad to the ER. Dad’s been progressively worse over the past few weeks, with the past 3-4 days just feeling horrible. I agreed that he should go if he would, but only with the understanding that his appointment next Tuesday with the GI would not get cancelled in the process. Meeting them in the parking lot, Dad was having some very bad pains, and holding his stomach like he has been for the past few days. He was miserable.
Walking into the Emergency Room was very hard for me. 7 months prior I walked in there for the first time and received an event that still effects me to this day. I don’t like the ER, or any hospital for that matter. I don’t like the atmosphere. I don’t like the possibilities. I just don’t like it.
I’m a little behind on writing about our trip to DC. My motivation lately can be found near the nonexistant level, even with trying as much as I can to do better on things. Even writing, something that I think ultimately helps me, comes with such put-off that it takes me much longer than I ever want or anticipate to type something out, or in some cases, respond to emails.
I’ll start off with the short version, which was a text conversation with one of my friends.
I wish everyone would just stop assuming they know what my Dad’s problem is. Every single person that he talks to starts diagnosing him in their own way. Quit giving him ideas that it’s just an ulcer, or that it’s scar tissue from surgery years ago, or it’s his gall bladder. Quit telling him different types of over-the-counter products to try. Quit telling him that if he gets to feeling better that he can just cancel his doctor appointment. Really?! Quit telling him that someone you know has had the same thing happening to them for years and years. Unless you have ‘Dr.’ in front of your name, just quit it.
It frustrates me so much I can’t stand it. I don’t care how good the intentions are, because if you constantly make someone believe that it’s something minor, and it ends up not being, that will make the news even more devastating.
Six months later and I’m still discovering obstacles within myself, learning how to deal with things, and getting so frustrated at times that I can’t stand it. My patience is thinner than it’s ever been, my sense of worry heightened, and my sleeplessness catching up. I have trouble getting out of bed each morning, sometimes realizing that I have to get up because my phone has already given up. I’m running late most days. The other day I slept an hour past the alarm, and was awoken by Dad hollering upstairs to see if I was off that day. I wasn’t.
I miss coming home each day and talking with Mom about everything. I miss having someone to talk to one-on-one. That’s a void that I don’t think can ever be filled. Dad tries I think, but more times than not he becomes disinterested or thinks I’m finished and just walks off. It’s not his fault though. Why I just assumed that he would want to hear all that anyways, I don’t know. That’s misjudgement on my part, and I don’t hold it against him at all.
It’s indescribable trying to explain what it feels like for Mother’s Day to be here, and not be able to see your Mom. It’s something you cannot be sure what it’s like until you’re there. I’m there and I hate it. I hate it for my brothers. I hate it for me. I hate it for anyone that ever has to spend this day without their Mom. I thought alot today about a friend of mine that misses her Mom alot, too. The only thing that makes days like today easier, is spending the day with my family, and knowing that I have friends that care enough to send me a message wishing me a great day or hoping that we’re doing okay today.
I’d give anything to have been able to give Mom another card like last year’s again this year. Last night Chase and I stopped to pick up a Mother’s Day card for our Grandma. I could stand and read cards forever, but it’s an extremely sad feeling to be standing in the isle, reading cards that are from son to mother, and knowing that won’t happen any more. I always avoid the funny cards for holidays like today. I like cards that have words that are spoken directly from the heart and carry tons of love and feelings with them. Those are the ones that truly capture the reason we celebrate this day.
If it could, we’d never lose any one or any thing. We’d never have to deal with losses, or worry if one may be near by. I really wish it were that simple.
Last night we lost one of the best pets we will ever be blessed with having, Penny. A childhood friend, man’s best friend, warm little bed buddy, road trip companion, you name it, she was it for 15 years. 15 years.
It was apparent yesterday that she would most likely not make it through the night. So knowing it was one of her greatest joys in her little life, we made sure to let her go “bye-bye” one last time yesterday evening.
It’s impossible to measure love, but even if it were, I think it’d be impossible to imagine the amount of love that little dog has received from our family throughout her life.
Worrying is bad, it really is, but it is human. You have to worry, you have to feel, you have to care, or else life would almost seem worthless. Worrying simply means you care. No one worries for the fun of worrying, because there is no fun in it at all!
I worry about Dad, alot. He misses Mom so much. I can tell by not having her to call and talk to through the day that he is lonely, because we talk more now than we ever have. He visits the cemetery almost weekly, if not a couple of times a week if he goes to McCaysville. I would guess that he’s stopped by and visited over 75 times if you count any multiple stops in the same day. It hurts to know that he hurts and misses her that much, but it also comes with it’s bitter-sweetness of seeing that love like that truly does exist in the world.
“Parent’s headstone,” that’s two words that I would have never expected to be saying or thinking about for years to come, yet here I am now.
It finally came in last week, and this afternoon Chase and I road out to Chatsworth to take a look at it. We’re supposed to take a look at it before they take it to McCaysville and set it in place. It was in a fenced in area so we were only able to look at the most important side of it from a distance, although the back will have some things on it as well. I honestly don’t think that we could have picked out a more perfect stone. This exact stone was the one at the funeral home as you walked in. When we all first saw it, we knew that it was the one. The cabin on it is a touch that really touches all of us, because it was Mom’s dream to have their cabin finished so that my parents could spend the rest of their lives together in it. It (their cabin) has not changed at all since the last day that my Mom and Dad were up there working on it, but I know one day we will finish it. Dad said Mom made him promise her one of the last times they were there, that if something were to happen to her, that he would still finish it. So we will.
Anger is not the problem; it’s the warning light. Anger is like the red warning light that comes on the dashboard of your car. Our error is that we tend to view the problem as the light rather than what it’s indicating. Even if we take the dashboard apart and replace the bulb, the problem is still there. It’s still red! Why? There’s something wrong with the car, not with the light.
This secondary emotion tells you something is wrong under the emotional hood, under the spiritual hood, or under the relational hood of your life. Most of us spend too much time trying to figure out how we can get rid of our anger when we should be asking ourselves, “What’s going on inside that’s making me angry?” To resolve your anger, you’ll need to identify the root reason for it
Wow—to say this past year has flown by would be an absolute understatement.
I woke up to an inbox of messages on Facebook wishing me a Happy Birthday, with every single one of them giving me a reason to smile on a day that I truly dislike. Dad was the first this morning to give me a hug while wishing me Happy Birthday, a thing that Mom was always the first to do since she was always up first. Missing her makes today especially tough for me because God I missed seeing her this morning before work so much, smiling and making comments about how old her boys are now or how she’s going to make us a cake for our Birthdays.
Anyways, I’m now officially closer to 30 than I am 20, and that fact I don’t like. But as with most things in life I’ve learned, there’s nothing you can do about that but just accept the fact of it.
If you wait long enough people will surprise and impress you. When you’re frustrated with people, when you’re angry, it may be because you haven’t given them enough time. In the end, people will show you their good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out.
— , My Last Lecture
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