I have a 33 page binder my dad wrote and gave me the first Christmas after he was diagnosed. I’d asked for years for him to write his family stories down. Now he’s been gone a year and it’s still my most prized possession I can’t bring myself to read. My last first with him.
Crazy to think one second I was getting him dressed then I’m calling 911 and by the time we got to Wooster Community everything seems fine again. One little drive from Woo to Cle and suddenly it’s hospice and nonverbal
Just randomly thought about the fact that I was the last person to make my dad laugh before we knew he was dying, they snowed him with kepra, and he didn’t speak ever again
Kinda blocked out the fact that my Aunt tried to make my dad’s funeral about her too until three people asked me which twin was the “eat shit and die” Aunt at my mom’s party this weekend
Grief is so insane. You can be in the country you promised yourself you’d see watching fireworks at a castle and your brain reminds you it’s the first year your dad will never see. Cut the cameras, turn the fireworks off.
I understand that if you’ve only ever experienced a scraped knee you have no way of knowing what if feels like to have a broken bone but I cant fathom lacking the self awareness it takes to hand someone in a cast a bandaid and tell them you know exactly what they’re going through
I’ve always been the person people come to for support or share things with but being in this position and still being that person has really changed my perspective.