May 5, 2010

Becca and i sat and waited.I wanted to throw up.But there was nothing in my stomach.
I wanted to run.But there was no where to go.
I wanted to scream. But knew that wouldn't help.
So, we waited.
We talked about the fear. The fear of what we already knew. The fear that time was short. That time was no longer on our side.
we waited some more.
It's hard to describe what it feels like to wait, when you know that bad news is coming. Prayers are short. And they feel empty. Fear crawls all over you like bugs, and you can't escape it.
Then, the call. Melissa said that we needed to wait and talk in person. I reminded myself to breathe. The sun was shining, but I couldn't see it. It felt like time had stopped.
Finally, the waiting was over. We were together, and Melissa shared the horrible knowledge that they had just been given. That time was short. very short. I remember the words: liver, pooped out(strangely casual words for someone who is dying), sorry, months maybe, probably weeks...
Then silence. The waiting was over. The news had been delivered.
I don't remember how long it took to sink in. I looked at my dad. I looked at my mom. I looked at my sisters. My family. The four people in the world who have known me my whole life. My people. My heart. And, here we were, learning that one of us would be gone in weeks. My sweet dad. My mom's precious husband. Madeline's bapa. It was unimaginable. And yet true.
The waiting was over, and the weeping began. We sat in my parents living room, and cried tears of sorrow, for hours. and hours. My dad was not ready to die. He was sick...but not suffering. He had years left in him. A granddaughter to watch grow up. Two daughters to yet walk down the aisle. A wife of 57 to still retire and grow old with. he was not ready to leave us. He told us that he was not scared, but he was sad. To this day, I am relieved that he was not scared, but his sadness was almost as hard. He cried. He asked us to stay with him. Where else would we be? There is nothing that reveals the importance of life like death. In those moments, nothing mattered but the time left, and the people in that room. It was painful. It was precious.It was devastating. I would never trade this time with my family, for anything in the world, yet, I believe there is also mercy in not knowing when death is near. It is really so much for someone to bear.

We had cheeseburgers and ice cream that night. No one had much of an appetite, but it was one of several "last meals", so we ate. I don't remember much of what was said. There is a numbness that comes. A grace I suppose. You can't hold all of the grief and sadness at once all the time, or you would explode.

I will never forget that day. I tasted a sadness I had never known before. I experienced a grief deeper than words. My life and my world would nevr be the same. And, five days later, I said goodbye to my dad, as he left this earth and his family who loves him dearly, and went to be with his savior.