The Grieving Process
Denial and Isolation
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
These are the five basic stages of grief. The five stages listed do not necessarily happen in that particular order, but most people will traverse each one. I bring this up because of my recent trip to Florida to visit my dad in the hospital. The grief I feel is at his having a terminal illness, Multiple Myeloma. There is no cure, but it can be treated. I feel the need to write my grief to help myself heal, so I hope you will bear with me.
When I first heard that my dad was in the hospital, I was okay. Tabitha was getting him the medical attention he finally deserved. Something was wrong and the doctors at Bay Medical were determined to find out the root cause of everything. He had pneumonia, and was not doing great. He had multiple breaks and fractures in his spine that were discovered. He was anemic. His calcium and protein levels were high. All of these things added up to the doctors looking into Multiple Myeloma. When I heard that he might have this cancer, I began my research. Multiple tests would need to be run. Surgeries performed. Death is inevitable.
I asked my sister if I needed to make a trip out to Florida because dad's health was not getting better, and seemed to be getting worse. I was on the next flight out of Boise. When I got to Florida, we went out for a bite to eat and after going to bed for a few hours to get a little sleep, we saw dad in the morning. I knew what to expect, but it still caught my breath to see him looking like he did. I didn't grow up with him, so I have only a handful of memories: all of which come from the last trip I made to Florida in 2006. This is not how I want to remember my father.
Over the course of the next week, several things happened. Daddy was supposed to have surgery on his back to fix a few of the breaks. During the time that they took him for prep, I went into the "other" waiting room and prayed. I got down on my knees and prayed like I haven't in a while. I prayed that if the Lord could, to please keep him here a while longer so I can have time. The time I missed out on from when I was four years old until 2006: 24 years of not being able to make memories with the man who helped bring me into this world. I prayed that he wouldn't be in pain. I prayed that my siblings and I would be able to handle whatever happened and be able to #KeepMovingForward. I prayed and cried. Cried because I don't have time. Cried because I want him to live. Cried because I know what will happen.
We also had some good times while I was in Florida. My sisters and I went to the beach and then out to dinner. That was also the night that we got the arrow part of our tattoos. We spent time talking and I began speaking in my own Southern way (I was born in Florida, after all...), which greatly pleased my hubby! :) We all accepted the fact that the diagnosis was made and got the tattoos finished with the ribbon and dog tag. The dog tag symbolized the fact that his first years in the Navy were tours in Vietnam when our own government sprayed Agent Orange freely, and has caused this horrible cancer. And I cried some more, in private. After all, I needed to be strong for my siblings. I'm the oldest of us four. They needed me to be strong, so I was.
I was needed a little while longer, so I canceled my trip home on the plane and Larry and my mom drove out to Florida. It was the first time my parents and I had been in the same room together since I was four. I enjoyed watching my mother tend to his needs. I was grateful to have my husband by my side to help me be strong. I am grateful Larry got to meet more of my side of the family. And I cried some more.
I wanted so badly to stay. I know my life is here in Idaho, but I didn't want to leave my father laying there in a hospital bed. I wanted him to be up and moving around and teaching Tabitha and I to go crabbing. I wasn't ready to leave, but I had to. I had to get back to work. I had schoolwork to attend to. A church calling to continue on with.
Today was very emotional for me at church. I have been asked to give a talk in church on a subject that is very raw still: The Joy and Blessings of Honoring Our Parents. I have gone through several of the stages I began with. Today I've hit Anger. I'm angry that I don't have the time with my dad on this earth. I'm angry that the government used that awful herbicide. I'm angry that I cannot make up the time that was lost. I'm angry at my mother for not staying with my father. I'm angry. And I cried. A lot. I'm crying still. I'll get through my anger. I'm still trying to work through the Depression part at the same time. I'll get through that, too. But for now, I grieve.
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
These are the five basic stages of grief. The five stages listed do not necessarily happen in that particular order, but most people will traverse each one. I bring this up because of my recent trip to Florida to visit my dad in the hospital. The grief I feel is at his having a terminal illness, Multiple Myeloma. There is no cure, but it can be treated. I feel the need to write my grief to help myself heal, so I hope you will bear with me.
When I first heard that my dad was in the hospital, I was okay. Tabitha was getting him the medical attention he finally deserved. Something was wrong and the doctors at Bay Medical were determined to find out the root cause of everything. He had pneumonia, and was not doing great. He had multiple breaks and fractures in his spine that were discovered. He was anemic. His calcium and protein levels were high. All of these things added up to the doctors looking into Multiple Myeloma. When I heard that he might have this cancer, I began my research. Multiple tests would need to be run. Surgeries performed. Death is inevitable.
I asked my sister if I needed to make a trip out to Florida because dad's health was not getting better, and seemed to be getting worse. I was on the next flight out of Boise. When I got to Florida, we went out for a bite to eat and after going to bed for a few hours to get a little sleep, we saw dad in the morning. I knew what to expect, but it still caught my breath to see him looking like he did. I didn't grow up with him, so I have only a handful of memories: all of which come from the last trip I made to Florida in 2006. This is not how I want to remember my father.
Over the course of the next week, several things happened. Daddy was supposed to have surgery on his back to fix a few of the breaks. During the time that they took him for prep, I went into the "other" waiting room and prayed. I got down on my knees and prayed like I haven't in a while. I prayed that if the Lord could, to please keep him here a while longer so I can have time. The time I missed out on from when I was four years old until 2006: 24 years of not being able to make memories with the man who helped bring me into this world. I prayed that he wouldn't be in pain. I prayed that my siblings and I would be able to handle whatever happened and be able to #KeepMovingForward. I prayed and cried. Cried because I don't have time. Cried because I want him to live. Cried because I know what will happen.
We also had some good times while I was in Florida. My sisters and I went to the beach and then out to dinner. That was also the night that we got the arrow part of our tattoos. We spent time talking and I began speaking in my own Southern way (I was born in Florida, after all...), which greatly pleased my hubby! :) We all accepted the fact that the diagnosis was made and got the tattoos finished with the ribbon and dog tag. The dog tag symbolized the fact that his first years in the Navy were tours in Vietnam when our own government sprayed Agent Orange freely, and has caused this horrible cancer. And I cried some more, in private. After all, I needed to be strong for my siblings. I'm the oldest of us four. They needed me to be strong, so I was.
I was needed a little while longer, so I canceled my trip home on the plane and Larry and my mom drove out to Florida. It was the first time my parents and I had been in the same room together since I was four. I enjoyed watching my mother tend to his needs. I was grateful to have my husband by my side to help me be strong. I am grateful Larry got to meet more of my side of the family. And I cried some more.
I wanted so badly to stay. I know my life is here in Idaho, but I didn't want to leave my father laying there in a hospital bed. I wanted him to be up and moving around and teaching Tabitha and I to go crabbing. I wasn't ready to leave, but I had to. I had to get back to work. I had schoolwork to attend to. A church calling to continue on with.
Today was very emotional for me at church. I have been asked to give a talk in church on a subject that is very raw still: The Joy and Blessings of Honoring Our Parents. I have gone through several of the stages I began with. Today I've hit Anger. I'm angry that I don't have the time with my dad on this earth. I'm angry that the government used that awful herbicide. I'm angry that I cannot make up the time that was lost. I'm angry at my mother for not staying with my father. I'm angry. And I cried. A lot. I'm crying still. I'll get through my anger. I'm still trying to work through the Depression part at the same time. I'll get through that, too. But for now, I grieve.
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