Shakedown Street

This morning when i finally woke up, I was feeling it -- feeling the loss, the tears fell heavily, my body rocked with sobs, my face bloated and splotchy. I tried calling B1 and R and neither of them answered. I tried calling Dad's phone so I could hear his voice again, but they've already disconnected the line. Thankfully I have a few saved messages from him on my phone and he also narrated our trip. Speaking of trips, I have all those Route 66 hi-8 videos that I want to transfer to dvd. That will cost a pretty penny, but it will be worth it. ...This is a short entry because its' my fatherinlaw's birthday and I gotta go pick up my nieces....I love you daddy and miss you heaps.

Why don't you write?

So my friend asked me today why I wasn't writing lately. And I decided to try. It's Friday, July 25 at 11:42 pm. I had therapy in the am; had to tell her about Dad's death that I still haven't radically or un-radically accepted. It's been almost a week, well, if we say Sat - Fri it has been a week...i haven't talked to B1. or R. still. I have talked to B2 and J is going to be away for 2 weeks - very bad timing. so he's actually coming down next Fri thru Tues. We were supposed to go to Birmingham, AL for a show and Alpharetta the next night, Aug 3. We're selling our birmingham tickets hopefully for face and B2 is coming to his first phish show w me! R. took him to his first one, which if, my memory is correct, means B1 took me to my first Dead show, I took R to his first Phish show and R took B2 to his first phish show. i'm excited! that's a good feeling to have right now, considering I don't feel much of anything these days.

I occasionally feel the stream of wet lines drawing on my face. They make zig zag or wave patterns. Sometimes they're just straight downward. I haven't had a raging crying fit yet, and I don't know why. For the past three and a half years, I have been paralyzed on and off, battled wicked insomnia, cried til only sand was left in my eyes, wondering when the other show will drop, wondering if *this* is going to be the last visit, the last time I see my Dad. I've been nauseous a heap of time, awakened in the middle of the night from knee pain, endured headaches that lay me flat out, terrified that any call from my uncle or brother could be *the* call...or the *other* call, where R is back in the hospital, having more seizures or perhaps he finally did himself in...Perhaps I was ready too. Perhaps I am ready. Ready for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to be out of pain and misery.

But ultimately, I don't think I'm processing my father's death. I can't just call him up or text him...yeah, this entry is a lot like earlier posts and I'm assuming that future posts will be similar in context. Can't go for one last visit. I didn't even say goodbye.

It's true

As of 9:09 pm yesterday, Saturday July 19th, my father is gone. He's gone and he's never coming back. He's gone.

I'm not sure what I am feeling. Oddly, at ~9:15, I had texted my dad's wife asking what the best way to say good bye would be. He was already gone by then. Apparently he went into a coma at some .
point - both mom and his wife said "deep sleep". I've barely spoken with any of my brothers about this...oh except for being the one who broke the news to R and mom last. Not sure who called B, but my older bro got the call from Dad's wife and he called C to then tell me (idk what happened to my spelling and editing, but this is being written late and I've got no-one to edit this for me). After C got B1's info on what happened, he came over to me and laid down on me and told me he loved me and then whispered- "he's gone. Dad has passed." I certainly didn't react the way I expected myself to. I barely shed tears, posted missing-dog-or....See I'm not even making sense writing right now. I have no idea what this ^^ is all about...anyway, I wasn't a bobbleheaded crying mess either...As o f right now, [another deleted sentence making no sense].   Wow, see this is already to on...not making any sense. My brain is gobbledy-gook from all the sedatives et al I am currently on. yet I'm awake and I looks like I'm going to eat an entire box of Fiber One Lemon Snax. mmm. ... I am in complete denial that I can't call my dad up and talk trash against whoever was playing the Packers or Badgers or Ducks or Bucks. I can never call him up to find out what meds or special gargling treatment I can use to soothe my achy  joints. He fought hard for over 3 1/2 years against this ferocious cancer...I'll never again hear the joy in his voice when he talked about his island home and how beautiful all the flowers and herons and the tides rolling in and out (unlike my childhood, during which I rarely complimented the city etc). I'll never see a new smile from him. He'll never beat me at UNO and Yahtzee again. We'll never laugh with him as he tries and invariably fails to exactly quote a movie (I do that all the time though too - I unintentionally paraphrase quotes), or mispronounces words for our amusement.

yeah, yeah -- I knew it was coming. For over three years, I knew it could happen any day, but i still had hope that God would heal him. I knew every time we/I  went to see him could possibly be the last time I'd see him. But it still doesn't take away any of the shock when it actually happens. I'm a bit sad that one of our Phish shows falls directly on his birthday. That's happened before - when I saw the Phish at The Gorge (George, Washington). I remember baking in the sun, hoping that other people would be quick with their calls at PayPhones! Remember those? haaha. But I called and wished him a happy birthday.

This post is such a rambling mess. I will finish  right after these statements :
I'm gonna try and read this tomorrow and ask, wtf am  I thiking.
If people actually read this, what's the reaction gonna be. I don't kmow who I was trying to kill (sorry, CLUE flashback.

Stopped Making sense at the beginning. bye 

The end is near

The end is near. Death is nigh. My dad will be gone forever in a matter of days, most likely. I'm having a difficult time even writing about it, but figured I'd get out some of my emotion this way. Maybe so, maybe not. I'm trying to be strong, but I'm weak. I'm trying not to cry, but my eyes are like a fast-moving river. I'm trying to take my mind off of it, but I'm writing about it. He's laying there in his bed, barely able to move. He's pale and gaunt. This I know even though I haven't seen him since Memorial Day weekend. I couldn't/can't go and see him like this...though my imagination is a tornado with images and thoughts I can't seem to control...just got back from a short trip to Cincinnati to celebrate my mom's 70th and my youngest brother's 30th. Just landed back home and my mom calls me with the news that he's gotten a lot worse. His wife texted me that he hasn't spoken since last Monday, as I had asked if I could talk to him to say goodbye. So I don't even get the chance to say a final goodbye. I did write him a nice letter for Father's Day, which he read and enjoyed. I told him I loved him and forgave him for what he's done and that I hope he forgives me for all of my mistakes. I'm sure he does. I know he loves me deeply....but that doesn't cut through my already shredded heart... I am Avon's exploding heart. I am Avon's river eyes...I'm trying, but nothing can fill the hole in my heart that I carved out three and a half years ago when he was first diagnosed...This is not working either....