Hey, Dad!
You know how some people instinctively cry "Mommy!" when they are overwhelmed or scared? I cry "Daddy!". I never realized that until now. Every time I cry, I say "Daddy" and I seem to feel better. It's like you are right there.
I just realized the day that I build up the strength to tell you how I felt when you and Mom divorced. You were so loving. You never rejected what I said. You never placed blame on mom. You took full responsibility for what happened. You told me that you loved me. That had to be about five years ago. I am fully able to receive your love now. I wish I could return that love to you. I was thinking about the life that you lived. You were always rejected. You came into this world an unwanted child. You left this world as father and grandfather. Yeah, there were a lot of things that you didn't get right while you were here. We all have those stories. But, you knew how to love. You knew how to give respect. You knew how to pay attention to what was important and ignore what wasn't.
I love you, Dad. I miss you like crazy.
Love, Teen.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Letter 7
Hey, Dad!
I know. It's been a while. It's October, but it still feels like August. I haven't left August. Let me be honest. Writing you has become difficult. Not because writing is something that I dread to do. Writing has become difficult because it makes your death real. Over the past few weeks, I've been imagining you. I have been remembering you. I have been dreaming about you. I guess it's my mind's way of playing a trick on me. It knows that I feel better when I believe that you are still here. But, you're not here. I don't even understand how that's possible. I mean, you are the reason I am here. I look like you. If you're not here, who do I look like? Who do I get my humor from? Who do I write like? It's like I don't exist if you don't. Why do I only have memories of you? I want memories and realities. It hurts to know that I can't make any new memories with you. I can't make any new discoveries with you. I can't find out things that you may have forgotten to tell me. All I have is what you have shared with me until you left. You know, I don't even know what your favorite color was. Why didn't I ask you that? I know your favorite music, sport, and food, but not your color. If I would've asked you I would make that my new favorite color. I just want to talk to you. I just want to hear you laugh. I just want to see you, smell you, touch you. I can't.
I catch myself telling Camryn stories about myself just like you did. I guess I don't want her to regret not knowing every possible thing about me. I'm not mad, dad. I'm just confused. This is the worst feeling in the world. This pain is a pain that I couldn't begin to prepare for.
Dad, I love you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
-Teen
I know. It's been a while. It's October, but it still feels like August. I haven't left August. Let me be honest. Writing you has become difficult. Not because writing is something that I dread to do. Writing has become difficult because it makes your death real. Over the past few weeks, I've been imagining you. I have been remembering you. I have been dreaming about you. I guess it's my mind's way of playing a trick on me. It knows that I feel better when I believe that you are still here. But, you're not here. I don't even understand how that's possible. I mean, you are the reason I am here. I look like you. If you're not here, who do I look like? Who do I get my humor from? Who do I write like? It's like I don't exist if you don't. Why do I only have memories of you? I want memories and realities. It hurts to know that I can't make any new memories with you. I can't make any new discoveries with you. I can't find out things that you may have forgotten to tell me. All I have is what you have shared with me until you left. You know, I don't even know what your favorite color was. Why didn't I ask you that? I know your favorite music, sport, and food, but not your color. If I would've asked you I would make that my new favorite color. I just want to talk to you. I just want to hear you laugh. I just want to see you, smell you, touch you. I can't.
I catch myself telling Camryn stories about myself just like you did. I guess I don't want her to regret not knowing every possible thing about me. I'm not mad, dad. I'm just confused. This is the worst feeling in the world. This pain is a pain that I couldn't begin to prepare for.
Dad, I love you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
-Teen
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Letter 6
Hey, Dad!
How's heaven? I'm pretty sure you are having an awesome time! I'm not just saying 'awesome' in the way that we use it down here on earth. I am saying that you must be in awe of all of the things you get to see and do. I'm sure you have found out all of the mysteries that you were searching for down here. I wonder if you are able to talk to your 'Mama' like you've always wanted. I wonder if you even care about any of the things you were concerned about down here. Remember you said that you would ask God if he would let you sing? I hope you're singing! As a matter of fact, I'm sure you are!
Man, I miss you. I listened to the voicemail you left for Camryn on her birthday. Man, I miss that. I will miss getting wacky (your words) phone calls from you and you would forget why you called. I will miss your 'knuckle sandwiches'! I will miss the smell of Old Spice coming from the bathroom. I will miss the beige sweater you always wore in the winter. I will miss the mints you would sneak me before I would start Sunday school. I will miss you telling me that I am the most beautiful woman in the room. I will miss your stern voice when you were serious. I will miss watching The Rifleman with you. Most of all, I will miss, well, you.
Thank you for allowing me to take care of you while you were sick. I know I kinda complained about it, but I really loved it. You really loved how I cleaned your apartment. I actually loved doing that for you. I would love to catch you watching me while I was cleaning your kitchen. You looked so happy. Then, you would tell me stories until you fell asleep. It was so peaceful.
You would have cried if you saw how many people came to help move your stuff out of your apartment. Most of the brothers from church came to help. In your words "It was beautiful!". They took care of moving all of the heavy furniture. They made it so easy for us. It only took 2 days to clean everything out. I found your journals. I see where I get this writing thing from. I really write like you. It didn't occur to me that we had this in common until now. That's great, though. It means everytime I write, I will continue to have a piece of you.
Your memorial service was off the charts! Every person you have ever wanted to come to church came! We had such a great time! We ate all of your favorite foods. That was Camryn's idea. Her menu included sweet potato fries, oatmeal raisin cookies, and of course strawberry milkshakes. She wanted to add pancakes, but I thought that would've been a little much. We can always make pancakes at home. Smitty said some really nice words about you as a child. It made me want to know you then. Tony preached! If I got writing from you, he definitely got speaking from you. He sounded just like you. I, however, couldn't get past speaking about you without crying.
Well, dad, I don't want to hold you up. I'm sure you are having an amazing time! By the way, thanks for helping me to find that letter you wrote me back in 2012. I thought I'd lost it. I 'mysteriously' found it when I was cleaning out an old purse. I know that wasn't random.
Love you! Talk to you later!
Tina
How's heaven? I'm pretty sure you are having an awesome time! I'm not just saying 'awesome' in the way that we use it down here on earth. I am saying that you must be in awe of all of the things you get to see and do. I'm sure you have found out all of the mysteries that you were searching for down here. I wonder if you are able to talk to your 'Mama' like you've always wanted. I wonder if you even care about any of the things you were concerned about down here. Remember you said that you would ask God if he would let you sing? I hope you're singing! As a matter of fact, I'm sure you are!
Man, I miss you. I listened to the voicemail you left for Camryn on her birthday. Man, I miss that. I will miss getting wacky (your words) phone calls from you and you would forget why you called. I will miss your 'knuckle sandwiches'! I will miss the smell of Old Spice coming from the bathroom. I will miss the beige sweater you always wore in the winter. I will miss the mints you would sneak me before I would start Sunday school. I will miss you telling me that I am the most beautiful woman in the room. I will miss your stern voice when you were serious. I will miss watching The Rifleman with you. Most of all, I will miss, well, you.
Thank you for allowing me to take care of you while you were sick. I know I kinda complained about it, but I really loved it. You really loved how I cleaned your apartment. I actually loved doing that for you. I would love to catch you watching me while I was cleaning your kitchen. You looked so happy. Then, you would tell me stories until you fell asleep. It was so peaceful.
You would have cried if you saw how many people came to help move your stuff out of your apartment. Most of the brothers from church came to help. In your words "It was beautiful!". They took care of moving all of the heavy furniture. They made it so easy for us. It only took 2 days to clean everything out. I found your journals. I see where I get this writing thing from. I really write like you. It didn't occur to me that we had this in common until now. That's great, though. It means everytime I write, I will continue to have a piece of you.
Your memorial service was off the charts! Every person you have ever wanted to come to church came! We had such a great time! We ate all of your favorite foods. That was Camryn's idea. Her menu included sweet potato fries, oatmeal raisin cookies, and of course strawberry milkshakes. She wanted to add pancakes, but I thought that would've been a little much. We can always make pancakes at home. Smitty said some really nice words about you as a child. It made me want to know you then. Tony preached! If I got writing from you, he definitely got speaking from you. He sounded just like you. I, however, couldn't get past speaking about you without crying.
Well, dad, I don't want to hold you up. I'm sure you are having an amazing time! By the way, thanks for helping me to find that letter you wrote me back in 2012. I thought I'd lost it. I 'mysteriously' found it when I was cleaning out an old purse. I know that wasn't random.
Love you! Talk to you later!
Tina
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Letter 5
Hey, Dad!
On my way home from visiting you at the hospital, I remembered the first time we went to the Ohio State Fair. I must have been about 4 or 5. I saw a ride that I really wanted to get on. You told me that I might be too small for the ride. I remember thinking that you always told me that I was a 'big girl', so there is no way that I could be too small for a ride. I insisted to get on. It was a roller coaster. It was my first time. Back then, a child that was too small could ride as long as an adult rode with them. You agreed to ride with me. We got in, sat down, and pulled the bar back. The bar locked. I was so excited! But then, it started. As it climbed slowly up the initial hill, I told you that I wanted to get off. I cried. I screamed. You said "It's okay. Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're a big girl." Then we drop! I screamed! You yelled, "You're okay!" as the ride kept going. I cried and screamed some more. I wanted to get off so bad. Then, the ride stopped and it was time to get off. We get out and I say "I want to get back on! It was fun!" You said "Are you kidding me? All of that crying you were doing? We are not getting back on that ride!" and we walked away.
The doctors just told me today that you are going to need palliative care. Yeah, the fancy word for hospice. I held my emotions inside pretty well until I got into the car. I cried, I screamed. I even kicked my feet. Then, I remembered the roller coaster. You said I was a big girl. I can take this. It's going to me scary, but I can get through this. Not only that, but I get to hold your hand on your roller coaster this time. It's a first time for both of us. You said you were ready, though. I can't say that I am. But, I agreed to ride with you, so that's what I will do.
I love you! Talk to you later!
-Tina
On my way home from visiting you at the hospital, I remembered the first time we went to the Ohio State Fair. I must have been about 4 or 5. I saw a ride that I really wanted to get on. You told me that I might be too small for the ride. I remember thinking that you always told me that I was a 'big girl', so there is no way that I could be too small for a ride. I insisted to get on. It was a roller coaster. It was my first time. Back then, a child that was too small could ride as long as an adult rode with them. You agreed to ride with me. We got in, sat down, and pulled the bar back. The bar locked. I was so excited! But then, it started. As it climbed slowly up the initial hill, I told you that I wanted to get off. I cried. I screamed. You said "It's okay. Nothing's gonna happen to you. You're a big girl." Then we drop! I screamed! You yelled, "You're okay!" as the ride kept going. I cried and screamed some more. I wanted to get off so bad. Then, the ride stopped and it was time to get off. We get out and I say "I want to get back on! It was fun!" You said "Are you kidding me? All of that crying you were doing? We are not getting back on that ride!" and we walked away.
The doctors just told me today that you are going to need palliative care. Yeah, the fancy word for hospice. I held my emotions inside pretty well until I got into the car. I cried, I screamed. I even kicked my feet. Then, I remembered the roller coaster. You said I was a big girl. I can take this. It's going to me scary, but I can get through this. Not only that, but I get to hold your hand on your roller coaster this time. It's a first time for both of us. You said you were ready, though. I can't say that I am. But, I agreed to ride with you, so that's what I will do.
I love you! Talk to you later!
-Tina
Monday, August 21, 2017
Letter 4
Hey, Dad!
I haven't written to you in about a week and I'm starting to feel guilty about that. I just haven't made myself carve out time to do it. You know what, that's not entirely true. Writing you makes me feel feelings and face issues, so I wasn't interested in doing either. To be completely transparent, it's a lot easier to do all of these things without feeling anything at all. I 'numb-out' when I come to your room because I can't imagine how I would be able to control all of my emotions if I let them out. I 'numb-out' when people ask me about you. Sometimes I just don't want to talk about you. Really. Sometimes I just want to go back to when I was just focused on me and Cammy. But, if I say that aloud, I'm a horrible person. Whatever.
Man, I love you so much, dad. I really do. I have that 'I-love-you-so-much-daddy-can-you-pick-me-up' kind of love. Remember when you used to pick me up? Remember when I couldn't hold your hand so I grabbed your finger? I remember that. Remember when I took one of your 8-track tapes and used it as a necklace? Well, I don't remember that, but you do and you tell me that story all of the time.
I love how much we are alike. In fact, I learned the 'numb-out' skill from you. I just realized that because when I went to visit you today, we really didn't talk but I know we had so much to say. You did ask me to wipe your face, though. I liked that. I also like spoon feeding you. It's kinda weird to say that, but I really do.
Dad, I really wish with everything in me that you didn't have to go through this. I hate to see you like this. I hate it. I want to pick you up and take you out of the bed and run. I hate this! I hate all of this! I want to punch walls and people. I hate doctors! They don't know anything. I mean they go to school to do nothing but guess. They guess with our lives, dad. They are guessing with your life and I hate it! I see them walk in the hallway and I just want to scream! They SUCK! They can't do anything for you. They just want to make you comfortable enough to pass away.
This is why I haven't been writing you. I am angry now. I don't like this feeling. I don't like any feeling except, for happiness. Right now, I would love to just be happy. How selfish is that, though? You can't even feed yourself, but I have the audacity to want to be happy. I'm sure you feel worse than I do. I can't begin to imagine how you must feel. Just last week you were walking in your apartment. Now you are in the hospital.
Man, dad, I've got to stop writing right now. If I continue, I won't be able to sleep again tonight.
I love you with everything in me.
-Tina
I haven't written to you in about a week and I'm starting to feel guilty about that. I just haven't made myself carve out time to do it. You know what, that's not entirely true. Writing you makes me feel feelings and face issues, so I wasn't interested in doing either. To be completely transparent, it's a lot easier to do all of these things without feeling anything at all. I 'numb-out' when I come to your room because I can't imagine how I would be able to control all of my emotions if I let them out. I 'numb-out' when people ask me about you. Sometimes I just don't want to talk about you. Really. Sometimes I just want to go back to when I was just focused on me and Cammy. But, if I say that aloud, I'm a horrible person. Whatever.
Man, I love you so much, dad. I really do. I have that 'I-love-you-so-much-daddy-can-you-pick-me-up' kind of love. Remember when you used to pick me up? Remember when I couldn't hold your hand so I grabbed your finger? I remember that. Remember when I took one of your 8-track tapes and used it as a necklace? Well, I don't remember that, but you do and you tell me that story all of the time.
I love how much we are alike. In fact, I learned the 'numb-out' skill from you. I just realized that because when I went to visit you today, we really didn't talk but I know we had so much to say. You did ask me to wipe your face, though. I liked that. I also like spoon feeding you. It's kinda weird to say that, but I really do.
Dad, I really wish with everything in me that you didn't have to go through this. I hate to see you like this. I hate it. I want to pick you up and take you out of the bed and run. I hate this! I hate all of this! I want to punch walls and people. I hate doctors! They don't know anything. I mean they go to school to do nothing but guess. They guess with our lives, dad. They are guessing with your life and I hate it! I see them walk in the hallway and I just want to scream! They SUCK! They can't do anything for you. They just want to make you comfortable enough to pass away.
This is why I haven't been writing you. I am angry now. I don't like this feeling. I don't like any feeling except, for happiness. Right now, I would love to just be happy. How selfish is that, though? You can't even feed yourself, but I have the audacity to want to be happy. I'm sure you feel worse than I do. I can't begin to imagine how you must feel. Just last week you were walking in your apartment. Now you are in the hospital.
Man, dad, I've got to stop writing right now. If I continue, I won't be able to sleep again tonight.
I love you with everything in me.
-Tina
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Letter 3
Hey, Dad!
Remember how I used to call you when I had a really tough decision to make and you would always seem to give me the right answer? Well, I need you to do that for me right now. The issue is your living situation. I want you to go to a skilled nursing facility, you want to remain in your apartment. My concern is for your overall safety. Your concerns are your independence and privacy. Who is right? What is the best decision? You would have me think through the worst case scenarios. Okay, so the worst thing that could happen to you living alone is you could fall and hurt yourself and no one would be there to know. The worst that could happen in a skilled nursing facility is that they could abuse you verbally, physically, financially or a combination of the three.
I just knew that the hospital would see it my way. You hadn't been eating very well and you had been complaining of shortness of breath, so I decided that taking you to the hospital would be the best solution. Your blood pressure was high, so they decided to keep you overnight. Once you were placed into a room, I spoke to the nurse about my concerns for your safety at home. She told me that the doctor and social worker will come to his room in the morning. I told her that I will return the next day.
I start to explain that you are going to stay overnight. You get upset. You keep telling me that you want to go home. You don't understand why you have to be there. I tell you that you that the doctor just wants to make sure you stay safe and eat regularly. I also explain that your blood pressure was higher than normal. You just say that all you need is rest. You also tell me that you asked God to take you because you didn't want to be in the hospital. Those were difficult words to hear. Still, I held out hope for the doctor and the social worker to tell you that you needed 24-hour care.
The next day is today. I walk in your room, ready to have a serious conversation with you regarding your new living situation. I came armed with all of the answers to questions you may have. What I wasn't armed with was the belief that you actually know what is best for you. The doctor and the social worker seem to think that you are perfectly aware of what you want and have no problem granting your request. They want to have physical therapy come in to do one more assessment, but after that, you will be cleared to go home.
When the doctor and the social worker came to me with that information, I was hurt and upset. I felt that they could not possibly be concerned about your well being. I believed that they just wanted to hurry up and discharge you so the insurance company wouldn't have to keep paying for your stay. It wasn't until I got home and thought things through that I recognized my error.
I am supposed to be your advocate, not your parent. I need to make sure that what you want, as long as it doesn't compromise your health and well-being, is what I need to do. If you want to stay at home allow the home health aides and physical therapists to come to your house, then that is what I will do. In the meantime, I will pray that God's spirit surrounds your home and protect you from any hurt, harm, or danger. In your own way, you were still able to walk me through to get to the correct answer. Thanks, Dad!
I love you! Talk to you later!
-Tina
Remember how I used to call you when I had a really tough decision to make and you would always seem to give me the right answer? Well, I need you to do that for me right now. The issue is your living situation. I want you to go to a skilled nursing facility, you want to remain in your apartment. My concern is for your overall safety. Your concerns are your independence and privacy. Who is right? What is the best decision? You would have me think through the worst case scenarios. Okay, so the worst thing that could happen to you living alone is you could fall and hurt yourself and no one would be there to know. The worst that could happen in a skilled nursing facility is that they could abuse you verbally, physically, financially or a combination of the three.
I just knew that the hospital would see it my way. You hadn't been eating very well and you had been complaining of shortness of breath, so I decided that taking you to the hospital would be the best solution. Your blood pressure was high, so they decided to keep you overnight. Once you were placed into a room, I spoke to the nurse about my concerns for your safety at home. She told me that the doctor and social worker will come to his room in the morning. I told her that I will return the next day.
I start to explain that you are going to stay overnight. You get upset. You keep telling me that you want to go home. You don't understand why you have to be there. I tell you that you that the doctor just wants to make sure you stay safe and eat regularly. I also explain that your blood pressure was higher than normal. You just say that all you need is rest. You also tell me that you asked God to take you because you didn't want to be in the hospital. Those were difficult words to hear. Still, I held out hope for the doctor and the social worker to tell you that you needed 24-hour care.
The next day is today. I walk in your room, ready to have a serious conversation with you regarding your new living situation. I came armed with all of the answers to questions you may have. What I wasn't armed with was the belief that you actually know what is best for you. The doctor and the social worker seem to think that you are perfectly aware of what you want and have no problem granting your request. They want to have physical therapy come in to do one more assessment, but after that, you will be cleared to go home.
When the doctor and the social worker came to me with that information, I was hurt and upset. I felt that they could not possibly be concerned about your well being. I believed that they just wanted to hurry up and discharge you so the insurance company wouldn't have to keep paying for your stay. It wasn't until I got home and thought things through that I recognized my error.
I am supposed to be your advocate, not your parent. I need to make sure that what you want, as long as it doesn't compromise your health and well-being, is what I need to do. If you want to stay at home allow the home health aides and physical therapists to come to your house, then that is what I will do. In the meantime, I will pray that God's spirit surrounds your home and protect you from any hurt, harm, or danger. In your own way, you were still able to walk me through to get to the correct answer. Thanks, Dad!
I love you! Talk to you later!
-Tina
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Letter 2
Hey, Dad!
I went to your house today. I had to go that way because I had to drop off the money order for your rent. Since you can't leave your apartment by yourself, the job of paying rent is mine. In addition, the job of paying your car payment is mine. I also have the job of scheduling your appointments, checking your medications, purchasing groceries and personal hygiene items, bathing you, and cleaning your apartment. Once the home health aide starts, I pray that some of these jobs get transferred to them. I hope I don't gain the job of firing multiple aids. All of these new responsibilities on top of all of my regular responsibilities like being a mom, early childcare teacher, and student have my head spinning.
Today, I was angry for no reason. As I was driving home from your house, I had the road rage of an old drunk truck driver. (I'm really not sure if they have road rage, I just couldn't think of a better example.) I'm sure that people were just going the speed limit because it's the law. As I was driving, however, I was sure they were slowing down in front of me just to piss me off. They did a great job. Everyone, regardless of age, race, creed, height, or weight, could've got cussed out today. Oh man, and the happy people-those were the worst! Why are they happy? They need to go take their stupid happy selves somewhere else and be happy there. Don't be all happy around me. I know, I know. Not Godly, right? Yeah, well I'm not feeling rather Godly today. But, I'm not angry with you, dad. I'm not. I promise.
Before I left your apartment, you said something that almost made me cry right there. You said, "Tell Cammy, I miss her." Man, you love your granddaughter. She loves you, too. That's why it's hard for her to come and see you. She wants to remember you as the strong "Paw-Paw" that would joke with her about boxing and football. She wants to remember you as the funny-story-telling Paw-Paw, not the so-weak-you-can-not-stand Paw-Paw. Regardless of how it makes her feel, she still will visit you. She will cry alone in her room, but she will still visit you. She will take the Ensure out of your refrigerator when you ask her to bring it to you. She will bring you the remote to the t.v. when you ask. She will make small talk with you. She will pray for you alone in her room. She misses you, too.
Speaking of Cammy, I have to pick her up from work in a few minutes. Yeah, she still isn't driving. I'm gonna let her one day. But, until then, I am still her chauffeur. I'll talk to you later. Love you!
-Tina
I went to your house today. I had to go that way because I had to drop off the money order for your rent. Since you can't leave your apartment by yourself, the job of paying rent is mine. In addition, the job of paying your car payment is mine. I also have the job of scheduling your appointments, checking your medications, purchasing groceries and personal hygiene items, bathing you, and cleaning your apartment. Once the home health aide starts, I pray that some of these jobs get transferred to them. I hope I don't gain the job of firing multiple aids. All of these new responsibilities on top of all of my regular responsibilities like being a mom, early childcare teacher, and student have my head spinning.
Today, I was angry for no reason. As I was driving home from your house, I had the road rage of an old drunk truck driver. (I'm really not sure if they have road rage, I just couldn't think of a better example.) I'm sure that people were just going the speed limit because it's the law. As I was driving, however, I was sure they were slowing down in front of me just to piss me off. They did a great job. Everyone, regardless of age, race, creed, height, or weight, could've got cussed out today. Oh man, and the happy people-those were the worst! Why are they happy? They need to go take their stupid happy selves somewhere else and be happy there. Don't be all happy around me. I know, I know. Not Godly, right? Yeah, well I'm not feeling rather Godly today. But, I'm not angry with you, dad. I'm not. I promise.
Before I left your apartment, you said something that almost made me cry right there. You said, "Tell Cammy, I miss her." Man, you love your granddaughter. She loves you, too. That's why it's hard for her to come and see you. She wants to remember you as the strong "Paw-Paw" that would joke with her about boxing and football. She wants to remember you as the funny-story-telling Paw-Paw, not the so-weak-you-can-not-stand Paw-Paw. Regardless of how it makes her feel, she still will visit you. She will cry alone in her room, but she will still visit you. She will take the Ensure out of your refrigerator when you ask her to bring it to you. She will bring you the remote to the t.v. when you ask. She will make small talk with you. She will pray for you alone in her room. She misses you, too.
Speaking of Cammy, I have to pick her up from work in a few minutes. Yeah, she still isn't driving. I'm gonna let her one day. But, until then, I am still her chauffeur. I'll talk to you later. Love you!
-Tina
Monday, August 7, 2017
Letter 1
Hey, Dad!
I just got off of the phone with you. You seem to be doing ok. You sound hopeful. I wish I could feel that same way. I wish I had the heart to tell you what the doctors say. They say that this disease is terminal. You will never get stronger. The muscles in your arm will continue to waste away. But you keep saying that you are believing God to heal you. You keep saying that you know you will be able to go to church next week. I wish I could believe that. I feel so selfish for thinking like that. In a way, I feel like it's my lack of faith that is keeping you bound in your disease. I know, I know! It's not true, but it's just how I feel. I also feel like maybe it would be easier for God to just take you now. I mean, why have you suffer like this.Yesterday, you said "I told the Lord that I am putting all of my trust in Him. If he wants to take me home, I'm okay. If he wants to keep me here, I'm okay."
Man. I can't even imagine how it must feel to go from working two jobs to not being able to leave your house without someone holding you up in the span of a year. I remember last year when you told me about your arm for the first time. You couldn't raise it above your head. I thought that was strange. You thought you had a stroke. So did I. Then, there was the weight loss. At first, I thought you had changed your eating habits. Next, it was your memory. You would call me during the day when I was at work. You never remembered that I had to work. I would get so frustrated with you. I would see you call and not pick up. You just talked about the same things, over and over again. If I only knew that was just the early signs of dementia. If I would have paid more attention. If I would've been more proactive. But, that was last year. Things are very different than they were last year.
You just celebrated your birthday last Tuesday. I bought you a strawberry milkshake from Dairy Queen. You drank most of it. I was so surprised by how much you drank. Your appetite hasn't been strong for a long time. I wonder if you actually eat. I worry about you living alone. Maybe I'll feel better once your home health aides start coming. I don't know.
Well, it's time for me to sleep. I am exhausted.
Talk to you later, Dad!-Tina
I just got off of the phone with you. You seem to be doing ok. You sound hopeful. I wish I could feel that same way. I wish I had the heart to tell you what the doctors say. They say that this disease is terminal. You will never get stronger. The muscles in your arm will continue to waste away. But you keep saying that you are believing God to heal you. You keep saying that you know you will be able to go to church next week. I wish I could believe that. I feel so selfish for thinking like that. In a way, I feel like it's my lack of faith that is keeping you bound in your disease. I know, I know! It's not true, but it's just how I feel. I also feel like maybe it would be easier for God to just take you now. I mean, why have you suffer like this.Yesterday, you said "I told the Lord that I am putting all of my trust in Him. If he wants to take me home, I'm okay. If he wants to keep me here, I'm okay."
Man. I can't even imagine how it must feel to go from working two jobs to not being able to leave your house without someone holding you up in the span of a year. I remember last year when you told me about your arm for the first time. You couldn't raise it above your head. I thought that was strange. You thought you had a stroke. So did I. Then, there was the weight loss. At first, I thought you had changed your eating habits. Next, it was your memory. You would call me during the day when I was at work. You never remembered that I had to work. I would get so frustrated with you. I would see you call and not pick up. You just talked about the same things, over and over again. If I only knew that was just the early signs of dementia. If I would have paid more attention. If I would've been more proactive. But, that was last year. Things are very different than they were last year.
You just celebrated your birthday last Tuesday. I bought you a strawberry milkshake from Dairy Queen. You drank most of it. I was so surprised by how much you drank. Your appetite hasn't been strong for a long time. I wonder if you actually eat. I worry about you living alone. Maybe I'll feel better once your home health aides start coming. I don't know.
Well, it's time for me to sleep. I am exhausted.
Talk to you later, Dad!-Tina
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