Healing in Progress

Today, the little girl had her first grief group session at school. It's a weekly group that lasts for about 25 minutes each time, to help children who have lost someone close to them cope. She really gave me hell over Christmas break about going...she didn't want anything to do with it, and she certainly didn't want to talk about her papa. And that's what worried me. She walked into the room one day when I was talking to one of the boys about papa, she got angry and said "Do we have to talk about him?!" and then stormed out crying. The holding it in worries me. As much as it breaks my heart to see her upset, I know that it will do more harm than good for her to hold it in like she has been.

She finally gave in and said she'd try it out. She got in the car this afternoon and says, "The group with Ms. Clinch (her school counselor) isn't about loss, mom! It's about being angry!." While trying to explain to her that being angry is often a part of losing someone, I pointed out how angry she was about papa "leaving her" just last week. Ultimately, she said that she liked the group (and then told me that when I tell her that she can't have a snack when she asks, sometimes...it makes her angry). I'm really hoping that this will help her cope with losing him. I'm trying the best I can, but there is only so much I can do when I'm trying to deal with it myself...and as we all know, sometimes it's better for someone on the outside to try to help.

Tomorrow will mark one month since dad has been gone. It doesn't seem possible. Now that the holidays are over and everything is getting back to normal, I've had more of a chance to process what happened. It was so much to take in in such a short amount of time. It almost feels like reliving it all over again. I'd give anything to have him back, but since I can't...I'll just be grateful once I feel that I've got a good grip on it.

Saturday at 2pm, family and friends will gather to say their final goodbyes to my dad. Or his ashes. I've never been to a funeral (er, service) where someone was cremated and I'm not sure exactly what to expect (Is it going to be as upsetting as it would be to see his body? Will I still have closure?). I'd really like to say a few words, but 1, I'm not good in front of crowds and 2, it's hard to be optimistic about those public speaking spills when your mother flat out tells you, "I don't think you can do it". Thanks for the vote of confidence there, mom. I'd like to push past the fear of the crowd and the emotions (that I may lose control of) and do it for my dad...but I just don't know. Besides, what do you say about/to someone when it's the last time you get to say it?

I'm not sure what my deal is. I haven't cried since I got the news Tuesday afternoon. I did a lot of crying while he was in the hospital, while I was at the hospital, while I was talking to him and holding his hands. But now, it's almost like I've run out of tears. Maybe I did a good job of psyching myself up for it before he actually passed away. I never felt very optimistic about the outcome. I just knew. I wonder if he knew. I wonder if he knew I was there after he was sedated, I wonder if he heard me.

My dad was the best man I've ever known. He was funny and practical and frustrating and a sarcastic pain in the ass. But he was my daddy. Logically, I always knew the time would come to say goodbye to my dad, but I never imagined it would be at the age of 25. It's terrifying, losing a parent. It's even more terrifying when it's so sudden and you realize that life really can be taken from us at any moment.

It doesn't make sense. My dad was a hard worker. He worked up until the day before he went to the emergency room. He was healthy (so it appeared). He was a man of strong faith. In fact, he baptized me at the age of 12, and Dayton on New Year's day of this year. And just like that...he was snatched away from us. And from gallstone (gallbladder) pancreatitis. I've never even heard of it. It doesn't even sound scary. And it's not like he had this horrible cancer that ate away at him for months on end. No, this bitch came and took him in 11 days. Eleven DAYS (Well, 11 days from onset of symptoms to death. They say that his pancreas had "been sick" for a long time). One of the last things he said to me was "I thought I'd done good...then I come all this way for everything to go all wrong at once". And he was right. First he was diagnosed with kidney stones, then gall stones, then critical pancreatitis, then his lungs filled with fluid, then his kidneys started failing....it was one thing after another. It just isn't fair. Maybe I'm still in shock (yes, this just occurred to me).

Rest well, Daddy

Yesterday, December 11th at 3:23pm, my daddy passed away peacefully from gallstone pancreatitis.

For those of you who don't know, he went to the ER on Thursday (the 29th) morning for severe stomach pain and vomitting. By Friday night, he was having trouble breathing (that was the last time I saw him conscious), by Saturday morning he was on partial life support, by Sunday morning his kidney function had dramatically declined, by Sunday night he was on full life support, and early yesterday afternoon, they stopped his blood pressure meds that were struggling to keep his bottom number in the low 40's. It took just a few short hours for his body to give up after they stopped the meds.

My daddy was the best man that I've ever known, and I honestly don't know how my heart will ever begin to heal.

For those who have been unable to find peace in this world

Depression is an illness of the worst kind. From personal experience, I can only attempt to tell you how consuming it really is. The thoughts of suicide overcome you. If it's not taken care of, it will take over. The feelings will take over. And that is when suicide happens. When the pain outweighs the strength you have to fight it. For whatever reason, depression and suicide is an ever growing trend among my generation. Maybe it's a fad (though, only God knows why someone would want to follow THAT trend). Maybe it's that parents have forgotten how to be parents. Maybe it's something else. But regardless of the reason, it's there. Since I was 14, I can count 3 acquaintances who have succeeded in ending their lives, and countless others who have attempted to. Maybe the reason this keeps happening is because there's such a disconnect. It's hard to read someone's demeanor from the other side of a computer screen or through a text message. Person to person contact is diminishing. Again, the reasons behind it don't matter. The depression is what matters-the illness. And do not be mistaken, this is an illness. It is as much of a sickness as diabetes or cystic fibrosis. It not only effects one mentally, but often physically as well. If you were showing signs of Multiple Sclerosis, would you seek out medical intervention?

In honor of those already lost, if you or someone you know is experiencing symptoms of depression, please get help or encourage help. Sometimes it's as easy as a one hour talk therapy session once a week. Other times it takes medication. Help is available to those willing to speak up. 

National Suicide Prevention Line: 1-800-273-8255

http://www.suicidehotlines.com

Depression Haven--online support:  http://depression.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=depression&cdn=health&tm=17&f=10&su=p284.9.336.ip_p1026.9.336.ip_&tt=2&bt=1&bts=0&zu=http://www.depressionhaven.org/