You can close your eyes
Cross-posted from Dad's blog:
I realized today that I haven't posted in a while. That wasn't quite intentional, but it wasn't by accident either.
I've had to take some time to gather myself and bolster my spirit over the last few weeks. Grief is hard, and everyone handles it differently. I'm thankful I was raised by people who taught me to see the good in everyone, even if you have to squint.
But, I'm here! It's October 3rd and I am ever aware of time moving on. In another 7 days it will be 5 months since I held on to my Daddy and joined in a chorus of "It's okay, go home, rest." It is my sincere hope that no daughter ever has to lean in and whisper in her Dad's ear that she'll be okay here and for him to go on ahead.
That's the reason I started this page to begin with; Pancreatic cancer took my Dad a mere 9 months from diagnosis and I'm still reeling. He's been gone for just about half of the time that he was aware he was sick. Those days crawled by, watching him hurt-- and these days without him have gone far too quickly.
The other night while visiting with my Mama, I found myself blurting out: "My Dad's dead. How... how did we get here?" I had never heard of PanCan until Dad was diagnosed.
Awareness is half the battle and I'm going to shout and stomp until every last person I come in contact with is tired of hearing about this man and his life.
While I figure out the path these posts should take from this point on, I am going to share memories.
Thoughts. Photos.
Tonight is one of those where I sit back and have a beer and reminisce. I'm making notes, and I'll be back--
I realized today that I haven't posted in a while. That wasn't quite intentional, but it wasn't by accident either.
I've had to take some time to gather myself and bolster my spirit over the last few weeks. Grief is hard, and everyone handles it differently. I'm thankful I was raised by people who taught me to see the good in everyone, even if you have to squint.
But, I'm here! It's October 3rd and I am ever aware of time moving on. In another 7 days it will be 5 months since I held on to my Daddy and joined in a chorus of "It's okay, go home, rest." It is my sincere hope that no daughter ever has to lean in and whisper in her Dad's ear that she'll be okay here and for him to go on ahead.
That's the reason I started this page to begin with; Pancreatic cancer took my Dad a mere 9 months from diagnosis and I'm still reeling. He's been gone for just about half of the time that he was aware he was sick. Those days crawled by, watching him hurt-- and these days without him have gone far too quickly.
The other night while visiting with my Mama, I found myself blurting out: "My Dad's dead. How... how did we get here?" I had never heard of PanCan until Dad was diagnosed.
Awareness is half the battle and I'm going to shout and stomp until every last person I come in contact with is tired of hearing about this man and his life.
While I figure out the path these posts should take from this point on, I am going to share memories.
Thoughts. Photos.
Tonight is one of those where I sit back and have a beer and reminisce. I'm making notes, and I'll be back--
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