10 Steps Forward ~ 8 Back

Bit by bit, little by little, step by step ... that's how I find my way. Sounds a bit dramatic, but it's the simple truth. My Poppie died almost a month ago, seems like last week, and to tell the truth, I'm doing ok with his passing. I think Doug's dying has smoothed the path in the loss of my Dad.

Seems a bit strange to read that or say that ... but it's the truth. Doug's death was so senseless, so tragic, so hard to believe, that my Dad's passing was "ok" for me. Dad was 90, he'd had an amazing life, he had true love, he watched his children grow "old", he watched all his grandkids graduate college ... He had a full and good life, the way it's supposed to be. Unlike my Doug ... oh he had a great life, lived it to the fullest, had true love, amazing friends, and loved every single minute he spent with his sweet kids. But I digress.

I haven't written in a while, I've had those darn struggles back in my life. I was doing so well, and proud of each step I took. Then my Poppie died. And as we gathered around his bed, us three girls, sitting in his room with the Hospice Social Worker (a true angel), she forewarned us of the things to come. Not just what would happen to Dad, though she did educate us in that too. but she told us about the "trauma" to our hearts:

• She told us that we might remember things about our mom, and grieve what we weren't able to grieve when she passed away 18 years ago, because we stepped up to the plate to take care of Dad.
• She told us that we'd maybe struggle with focus, unable to finish things.
• She told us we might walk into a room and forget why we were there
• She told us we might even have the "dropsies" or even stumble a little bit
• She told us we might be at a loss for a word, not able to think of the words we are looking for

And I told her, "SERIOUSLY????? I can't start that all over again ... I can't ... I'm just getting on my feet. The tear filled moments are far less these days, I can't go backwards." She held my hand and said, "Oh Vickie."

And so here I am, almost approaching 11 months in my journey without Doug. I pulled out of the K-Mart parking lot yesterday, and had to pull over as the overhwelming sadness swept over me. I so wanted to call my Doug, my proudest cheerleader, and tell him about my day, my day as a professional, my stories of going to a "meeting". Instead my sweet little girl bore the brunt of my tears and grief. I hate burdening the kids with my sadness, most days I am able to hide that from them. But yesterday I was just so very sad.

Last Friday, working around the house, I walked into Doug's shop, and it took my breath away. Time has stood still in that room. My heart ached as I ran my hand across the handle of his drill press, seeing the shavings from the last time he used it, touching the papers with his handwriting, touching the drill, screwdriver, hammers, and "stuff" that he touched. Begging God to bring him back, I just stood there and sobbed.

Seriously ... I have to start all over? As I work on a task, I move on to the other, before finishing what I've begun. The tears have returned ... I'm sure it's for Dad almost as much as for Doug ... but it feels very centered on my Doug. I worry about my kids, I worry about "what's next" in this journey, I think and worry about house and finance things ... I just miss him in all those little things and ways in life. You see I have figured out that in the big things, like our son's wedding, showers, Christmas, and such, I can prepare myself. But it's those small, quick little moments that take my breath away and set me back about 8 steps.

I truly say my prayers each and every night ... for the friends, for the dear close friends who call, email or send cards, for my siblings who call and always lend a hand, and for my sweet babies. They lost their Daddy and in the midst of their grief, those three have shown strength, love, and a maturity beyond belie, as they help their momma as we journey into a future without our cornerstone. I just miss him ... and I can imagine how much they miss their Dad.

Until Soon,
vic