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March 23, 2012
March 22, 2012
Normal Part 1
I'm exhausted.
My brain is exhausted.
My eyes hurt.
I feel so let down, discouraged and empty.
I'm holding it together, for my kids' sake, but I'm not myself right now. And they know it. And I know it.
It's been the longest, most unreal week of my entire existence.
Wednesday I woke up and for a split second thought that maybe the events of the previous day were a nasty, nasty dream. But I was snapped right back into reality soon enough. And it was hard. We met with the bishop and finalized funeral plans. I made a list of things I needed to do before the funeral. We talked. A lot. My brother and his wife got there. My aunt and uncle came over and had dinner with us. And we talked. A lot more. About my Daddy and who he was and what he did. We looked through a scrapbook about his life. I scanned pictures into the computer for a slideshow about his life. I talked to my husband and cried. Really cried. I stayed up all night going through all the digital pictures I could find for the slideshow.
I went to bed at 6:45 am.
And my baby woke up and wanted to eat.
I finished feeding her and closed my eyes. And my alarm clock went off.
I did sleep for an hour or so. And then I got ready. And then we went to the mortuary. And picked out a casket. And designed a program. And chose a signature book...what are they called? Guest book? Anyway, the one we chose was perfect, he would have loved it.
My brother and sister-in-law and I then got in his car and made a marathon trip to Logan. He needed his suit, which was at the dry cleaners. And I needed a new dress. And my mom needed a new dress. It was the smoothest shopping trip I've ever taken. Things basically just hopped right into my cart. And they were perfect. Two dresses for me, two for my mom, two for Amelia, and two suits for Ian later, we were done. Thanks, Ross. You saved my bacon.
I then dropped my sil off at her home to pack and went to Walmart. We figured we'd save time by splitting up. And it was fine until I was walking through the store and realized that this was the very first time I'd been alone with my thoughts. The very first time I didn't have anyone to talk to. And I was running on an hour of sleep. And I had a baby in my arms. And that was it. I was that crazy lady sobbing through the aisles. And I got what I needed and literally ran to the car. Sobbing. And I sobbed the whole way back to their apartment.
We got my sister-in-law's flute and drove back to my mom's house. And it was real again. And I was exhausted.
Friday my mom, brothers and I went back to the mortuary to help get my Dad's body dressed and ready for his last party.
And there he was.
It was him.
And it wasn't.
My brother and I hugged and cried together.
And my Daddy, he looked so handsome. They had done an amazing job. Amazing.
My Dad had a brain tumor removed when he was 21, but somehow received some nerve damage. My whole life he could only hear out of one ear. And one side of his face sagged a little.
And as I looked at him that day, his eye was perfectly normal. And he looked beautiful. I put some makeup on his ear and hand to cover some owies he had. We dressed him in his temple clothes. I held his hand. And tickled his feet. (He HATED people touching his feet) We cried and smiled and talked about Dad. My brothers and the two morticians lifted my big daddy into his casket. And they rolled him out into the big room where the viewing was to be held.
And we cried some more.
My aunt, his sister, came by. She walked into the room and stopped. And cried. She said his casket was beautiful. It was. It was prefect. A beautiful ceder with pine trees embroidered on the lining. He would have loved it.
We stayed for awhile, talking and crying. And then we left to run some errands. Get some pictures printed. Buy some frames. Go to a fabric store. Put pictures in frames. Gather some of Dad's favorite things. Style Gramma's hair. Practice song with Nicole and Sevena. Get ready. Get kids ready. (Thanks Nicole, Spence, and Rachel) Stop at grocery store to get lint brush, nylons for Mom, and some of Dad's favorite church candy to put in his retirement vase and share (Thanks Christine). It was a crazy afternoon, but we got it all done without feeling rushed or panicked.
We had a viewing. There were SO many people there. He would have HATED it. My Dad was well loved by many, but he was not a social butterfly and often shied away from situations that would put him anywhere near the spotlight. But it was for him, and there were tons of folks who loved him. It was good to know how many people he touched. It was amazing.
I didn't want to leave him that night. I stayed until everyone had gone and just sat by his body, crying and talking to him. After hugging and crying and laughing and meeting so many people, I was spent. Drained. Physically, emotionally. It was a hard night. But it was for him and about him, and I think he would have been pleased.
My brain is exhausted.
My eyes hurt.
I feel so let down, discouraged and empty.
I'm holding it together, for my kids' sake, but I'm not myself right now. And they know it. And I know it.
It's been the longest, most unreal week of my entire existence.
Wednesday I woke up and for a split second thought that maybe the events of the previous day were a nasty, nasty dream. But I was snapped right back into reality soon enough. And it was hard. We met with the bishop and finalized funeral plans. I made a list of things I needed to do before the funeral. We talked. A lot. My brother and his wife got there. My aunt and uncle came over and had dinner with us. And we talked. A lot more. About my Daddy and who he was and what he did. We looked through a scrapbook about his life. I scanned pictures into the computer for a slideshow about his life. I talked to my husband and cried. Really cried. I stayed up all night going through all the digital pictures I could find for the slideshow.
I went to bed at 6:45 am.
And my baby woke up and wanted to eat.
I finished feeding her and closed my eyes. And my alarm clock went off.
I did sleep for an hour or so. And then I got ready. And then we went to the mortuary. And picked out a casket. And designed a program. And chose a signature book...what are they called? Guest book? Anyway, the one we chose was perfect, he would have loved it.
My brother and sister-in-law and I then got in his car and made a marathon trip to Logan. He needed his suit, which was at the dry cleaners. And I needed a new dress. And my mom needed a new dress. It was the smoothest shopping trip I've ever taken. Things basically just hopped right into my cart. And they were perfect. Two dresses for me, two for my mom, two for Amelia, and two suits for Ian later, we were done. Thanks, Ross. You saved my bacon.
I then dropped my sil off at her home to pack and went to Walmart. We figured we'd save time by splitting up. And it was fine until I was walking through the store and realized that this was the very first time I'd been alone with my thoughts. The very first time I didn't have anyone to talk to. And I was running on an hour of sleep. And I had a baby in my arms. And that was it. I was that crazy lady sobbing through the aisles. And I got what I needed and literally ran to the car. Sobbing. And I sobbed the whole way back to their apartment.
We got my sister-in-law's flute and drove back to my mom's house. And it was real again. And I was exhausted.
Friday my mom, brothers and I went back to the mortuary to help get my Dad's body dressed and ready for his last party.
And there he was.
It was him.
And it wasn't.
My brother and I hugged and cried together.
And my Daddy, he looked so handsome. They had done an amazing job. Amazing.
My Dad had a brain tumor removed when he was 21, but somehow received some nerve damage. My whole life he could only hear out of one ear. And one side of his face sagged a little.
And as I looked at him that day, his eye was perfectly normal. And he looked beautiful. I put some makeup on his ear and hand to cover some owies he had. We dressed him in his temple clothes. I held his hand. And tickled his feet. (He HATED people touching his feet) We cried and smiled and talked about Dad. My brothers and the two morticians lifted my big daddy into his casket. And they rolled him out into the big room where the viewing was to be held.
And we cried some more.
My aunt, his sister, came by. She walked into the room and stopped. And cried. She said his casket was beautiful. It was. It was prefect. A beautiful ceder with pine trees embroidered on the lining. He would have loved it.
We stayed for awhile, talking and crying. And then we left to run some errands. Get some pictures printed. Buy some frames. Go to a fabric store. Put pictures in frames. Gather some of Dad's favorite things. Style Gramma's hair. Practice song with Nicole and Sevena. Get ready. Get kids ready. (Thanks Nicole, Spence, and Rachel) Stop at grocery store to get lint brush, nylons for Mom, and some of Dad's favorite church candy to put in his retirement vase and share (Thanks Christine). It was a crazy afternoon, but we got it all done without feeling rushed or panicked.
We had a viewing. There were SO many people there. He would have HATED it. My Dad was well loved by many, but he was not a social butterfly and often shied away from situations that would put him anywhere near the spotlight. But it was for him, and there were tons of folks who loved him. It was good to know how many people he touched. It was amazing.
March 13, 2012
How Is This Happening?!
I have no words.
Well, that is absolutely not true. I have so many words and I just don't know what to do with them all or how to even express them in a way that makes sense.
I lost my Daddy today.
He was only 58.
I figured we had at least another 10 or 20 years before I'd have to go through this and I am not ready. Not ready at all.
I am not in my right mind and I feel like I'm in a fog. I want to always remember this day and the events surrounding it, so I'm going to spew it out here for the world to read.
In all reality, I don't have a journal and can't sleep. So feel free to skip this post if you like, won't hurt my feelings a bit.
Last night, my husband watched the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Marshall's Dad died.
It's all hitting really close to home.
My sister-in-law called me this morning to tell me they'd taken him to the hospital in an ambulance. He didn't wake up last night. He wasn't breathing this morning when my mom went to take a shower.
That's all I knew.
So I sat there and stewed and my thoughts went to places I didn't even want them to go. Like what we would do about a funeral. And what I would wear to a viewing. And what I would sing. And that my sons wouldn't be able to be baptized by their papa.
And I just shook those thoughts off as me overreacting and moved on.
We had just seem him on Saturday.
We'd gone sledding.
We had a wonderful day with my family and basically enjoyed each other's company.
Saturday.
Two days ago.
So I waited to hear anything new and just chalked my worst case scenario thoughts as just that.
Until I got the call. At 10:50 am.
It was my brother on my mom's phone.
He said "Camie, I've got some bad news."
He told me the story...and then said he didn't wake up.
:He died:
I said "Are you kidding me?"
And I told him I'd be there as soon as I could.
And the remainder of the afternoon is a blur. I picked Izacc up from school. I packed. I folded clothes. I called Izacc's school. I took a shower. I hugged my aunt. I talked to my best friend. I got a bazillion texts. Word sure travels fast. I told my babies that their Papa was in heaven taking care of Zoe. I packed the car. I drove, with my gramma, the 4 hour journey to my parent's house. I had a headache. We had quite a few visitors and lots and lots of food. I helped plan a funeral. I cried a little. I have yet to really realize what's going on. Really.
When we got to my parent's house, my Ian was giving my Mom a hug and kept asking her "Where's Papa!? Where's Papa?!"
He's two.
He doesn't understand.
I'm not sure I understand.
I still have a headache.
I'm noticing that I'm being strong for everyone else.
I'm not sure how long this will last.
I think about it and become overcome with sadness and I just have to stop and focus on the one task at hand. Pack. Drive. Get kids to bed. Eat.
I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go from here. I've never had to do this before and I am so scared. It's going to be rough. And I'm not okay.
I went into his room and he's all over in there. His hats. His gum collection. His ties. His stupid covered wagon lamp. How can this be real? How can this be happening?!?
My baby, who has yet to really say anything besides "Ma ma ma ma" and "Ba ba ba ba", was in the bedroom with me. And she was on my shoulder facing the other way. And she said "Papa". And I looked at her and she said it again. And I looked at my mom and cried and as she looked at all of us and pointed with her chubby hand towards the last place he existed on this Earth and said "Papa".
I deleted a message from him off my phone yesterday.
I'd do anything to hear his voice, see him, just know he is in the other room snoring.
I miss my Dad.
And I'm not okay.
Well, that is absolutely not true. I have so many words and I just don't know what to do with them all or how to even express them in a way that makes sense.
I lost my Daddy today.
He was only 58.
I figured we had at least another 10 or 20 years before I'd have to go through this and I am not ready. Not ready at all.
I am not in my right mind and I feel like I'm in a fog. I want to always remember this day and the events surrounding it, so I'm going to spew it out here for the world to read.
In all reality, I don't have a journal and can't sleep. So feel free to skip this post if you like, won't hurt my feelings a bit.
Last night, my husband watched the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Marshall's Dad died.
It's all hitting really close to home.
My sister-in-law called me this morning to tell me they'd taken him to the hospital in an ambulance. He didn't wake up last night. He wasn't breathing this morning when my mom went to take a shower.
That's all I knew.
So I sat there and stewed and my thoughts went to places I didn't even want them to go. Like what we would do about a funeral. And what I would wear to a viewing. And what I would sing. And that my sons wouldn't be able to be baptized by their papa.
And I just shook those thoughts off as me overreacting and moved on.
We had just seem him on Saturday.
We'd gone sledding.
We had a wonderful day with my family and basically enjoyed each other's company.
Saturday.
Two days ago.
So I waited to hear anything new and just chalked my worst case scenario thoughts as just that.
Until I got the call. At 10:50 am.
It was my brother on my mom's phone.
He said "Camie, I've got some bad news."
He told me the story...and then said he didn't wake up.
:He died:
I said "Are you kidding me?"
And I told him I'd be there as soon as I could.
And the remainder of the afternoon is a blur. I picked Izacc up from school. I packed. I folded clothes. I called Izacc's school. I took a shower. I hugged my aunt. I talked to my best friend. I got a bazillion texts. Word sure travels fast. I told my babies that their Papa was in heaven taking care of Zoe. I packed the car. I drove, with my gramma, the 4 hour journey to my parent's house. I had a headache. We had quite a few visitors and lots and lots of food. I helped plan a funeral. I cried a little. I have yet to really realize what's going on. Really.
When we got to my parent's house, my Ian was giving my Mom a hug and kept asking her "Where's Papa!? Where's Papa?!"
He's two.
He doesn't understand.
I'm not sure I understand.
I still have a headache.
I'm noticing that I'm being strong for everyone else.
I'm not sure how long this will last.
I think about it and become overcome with sadness and I just have to stop and focus on the one task at hand. Pack. Drive. Get kids to bed. Eat.
I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go from here. I've never had to do this before and I am so scared. It's going to be rough. And I'm not okay.
I went into his room and he's all over in there. His hats. His gum collection. His ties. His stupid covered wagon lamp. How can this be real? How can this be happening?!?
My baby, who has yet to really say anything besides "Ma ma ma ma" and "Ba ba ba ba", was in the bedroom with me. And she was on my shoulder facing the other way. And she said "Papa". And I looked at her and she said it again. And I looked at my mom and cried and as she looked at all of us and pointed with her chubby hand towards the last place he existed on this Earth and said "Papa".
I deleted a message from him off my phone yesterday.
I'd do anything to hear his voice, see him, just know he is in the other room snoring.
I miss my Dad.
And I'm not okay.
March 12, 2012
Not Sunday
Man it has been FOREVER since I did this!
Sorry. I'm still trying to get settled into our new temporary basement living life.
And it's not Sunday, it's Monday.
And they're not dressed up, but they are sunburned.
We were in Logan on Sunday.
And Saturday for that matter.
And Friday evening as well.
We had a fantastical weekend sledding with my parents and brothers.
Dad sat in an inner tube, we screamed down the hills.
More on that to come.
But the fun we had.
Ha ha and oh the sunburns!
My poor kids.
Mother of the year strikes yet again.
March 10, 2012
March 9, 2012
March 8, 2012
March 6, 2012
March 5, 2012
March 4, 2012
March 2, 2012
March 1, 2012
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