Has it Been a Year Already?

It doesn't really seem possible that it has been a year since my dad passed away.  Technically, the anniversary is this Sunday, May 19th, but I am fairly certain that he actually died on May 18th, which was a Friday last year.  So, in my head and in my heart, it's been a year ago tomorrow.
For a few weeks leading up to my dad's death, I was constantly bugging Brian about going camping.  I really wanted to be outside for some reason.  I would go out at night to take out the dog and just stare at the lake. The frogs and insects were especially loud, the weather was beautiful.  It was all very peaceful outside and that's where I wanted to be. I haven't been camping since I was a little girl.  Dad used to take us from time to time and I was never really a fan.  But this time last year, that's all I could think about.
The Friday night that my dad died, I took Barkley out, stood and looked at the pond as usual, but I didn't feel right. My stomach was really bothering me.  I had a very uneasy feeling.  I decided to take a bath and see if I could calm down a little bit. But it didn't help. I just had a horrible feeling that something was going to happen to Lucy.  I was extremely worried about her. I know most mothers worry excessively over their children, but this was different. This was a feeling of dread, of overwhelming doom. I just couldn't shake it.
I have had these feelings from time to time in the past.  When I was almost 10, I was sitting in church one day and just had a horrible feeling that my grandpa was going to die. He did a few weeks later and ever since that happened, I've always paid careful attention to that feeling that something isn't right. I often think that, if I talk to someone about it, whatever I'm worried about can't possibly happen, because, after all, I'm not a fortune teller. From time to time, I would get that feeling that something bad was going to happen and I almost always talk to Brian about it. I remember telling him around Christmas Eve that I was nervous about 2012.  I told him that I didn't think it was going to be a good year. He joked that the Aztecs didn't think so either.  But then I told him I felt like someone was going to die that year. I was hoping that, by voicing my concerns, they would not come true. Unfortunately, this time, that was not the case.
For all of my feelings of uneasiness, however, I honestly never saw my dad's death coming. Of course I worried about him, he was getting older and had some serious health problems, but it never occurred to me that we were so short on time.  In fact, I was so obsessed that evening with the idea that something bad was going to happen to Lucy, it never crossed my mind that something terrible was happening to my dad.
My understanding is that he went out fishing that Friday evening, after having returned home from Sienna's graduation.  She never saw him, didn't even know he was there.  He was supposed to go to her house but he didn't, he drove home instead. My brother, Chris, saw him after he returned to Liberal.  He apparently came by the baseball diamond for a bit.  Then, he went home to get ready to go fishing.  As far as I know, no one saw him again until he was found in the pond the next morning by a sheriff's deputy.  My dad could not swim and was always concerned about drowning. I really can't think about how awful this must have been for him. It's too painful to think of how he may have suffered. I just have to hope that the heart attack was quick and that it was all over soon.
The next day, Saturday, May 19th, my mom called.  I was sitting on my bed with Imma watching her play a game when the phone rang.  I almost didn't answer it, but I decided to interrupt Imma's game because my mom doesn't call very often.I will never forget her exact words to me because they completely caught me off-guard. She said, "Levi died yesterday."  I remember every step of the mental process I went through to try to figure out what she had just said.  I remember thinking I had to have misheard her or she must have been talking about someone else named Levi because, surely, if she were talking about my dad, she would have said, "your dad," and she would have done something to prepare me for what she was about to tell me. So, I asked her to repeat herself.  After she said it again, I still had no idea what she was talking about.  My exact thoughts were something to the extent of, "My dad wouldn't die and not tell me about it," which clearly makes no sense, but that's what I was thinking.  I made her repeat it once more time before I asked, "Are you talking about my dad?" By then, my sister, McKinley, was ripping the phone out of my mom's hand and she began to explain the story, or at least what she knew at the time. No one was sure of anything.  I hung up with her and went to find Brian. He was outside. I remember having a horrible time breathing, sobbing, almost unable to talk.  He came in and called Chris.  There were a lot of phone calls made. No one knew where Kelley or Braidi were.  No one knew if they knew. No one knew much of anything.
Even though it's been a year, I still don't feel like I know much more about what happened to my dad that night then I knew that day on the phone.  Since that time, my family has started to crumble.  There's not a lot of glue to hold all us together. I'm doing the best I can but without a patriarch, it's difficult.  My brother, Chris, was outstanding during the whole funeral process and I think this has brought him and I closer together but it's hard to be in the position of oldest male in the family when there are so many of us. I am hopeful that we will all be able to stick together. I know that's what my dad wanted above all else. He talked to me about it often.
He talked about what would happen when he was gone all too frequently for someone who was only 55.  He was very nostalgic those last few years. Now that he is gone, I wish I would have asked more questions. I wish I would have written things down.  I catch myself thinking, "I need to ask Dad about that," all the time but, of course, I can't.
I have learned a lot of life lessons through this experience.  I've learned I'm stronger than I thought I was, I'm older than I thought I was, I'm wiser than I thought I was.  But, at the end of the day, I am, and always will be, a Daddy's Girl.
I often wonder if I was drawn to the pond for those weeks leading up to my dad's death because that's where he was when he passed. He loved fishing and being outside.  Some of my best memories are of him taking me fishing. In the end, he was doing something he loved when he died.  It's just completely unfair that he was so young.
I also wonder why I was so fixated on the idea that something was going to happen to Lucy.  It certainly occurred to me pretty quickly after my dad died that both of their names start with an L. In a way, I feel like he may have made some sort of a sacrifice to keep her safe.  That will sound ridiculous to some people but Lucy talks about PawPaw all the time. Lots of mornings, the first thing she says has to do with my dad. She even points across the room, as if he were there. I'm not saying she's seeing ghosts, but it is nice to think he is looking out for her. He's definitely still an important part of our lives, whether we can see him or not.
This weekend marks the last first--the last time we can say this is the first anything we've done since Dad died. I will be glad to have this year behind me. There have been moments of anger, moments of extreme sadness, moments of despair.  But there have been good moments, too. I have had a lot of support from my friends and family, and people I don't even know.  Those are the things that keep us going and moving forward. Sometimes it is difficult not to dwell on the question of "why?" but our loved ones help us realize it's not the "why?"hat matters--it's the "what now?"
This weekend will not be an easy one. I'm sure there will be moments of tears. There will be moments of celebrating memories of an amazing musician, faithful Christian, sports enthusiast, Civil-War-history-buff-extraordinaire, loving father.  Those are the things we remember most about my dad.  He touched so many lives in so many ways. I can only hope that, when I am gone, half as many people can say I was a positive influence on their lives.  He truly was an extra-ordinary person.

Let Each Birthday Count

Today is my birthday.  I would like to say that I don't feel any older, but I think, perhaps, I do.  A little.  But my children keep me young.  They were so excited. We celebrated yesterday because it was just more convenient--which isn't to say that my husband should expect me to do ANY work this evening, 'cause I'm not gonna, but we had the cake, dinner, and presents yesterday.  I got a beautiful handmade necklace from an Etsy shop. It's Annabel Lee themed and I love it. I also got a beautiful Alice in Wonderland bracelet, also from an Etsy shop.  My husband did well.  He let me sleep in, we had red velvet cake, my favorite, and pizza, also my favorite. The girls sang "Happy Birthday" and helped me blow out the candles.  Lucy kept saying, "Happy Birthday, Monnie!" which was also very cute. Overall, it was a good day. Today, I've had lots and lots of facebook messages from dear friends and it's always nice to be thought of and remembered, which I also appreciate.

My cake looked something like this. Now, it is almost gone! Photo from berries dot com

But, of course, something is missing.  This is my first birthday without my dad and it hasn't been easy.  Every year on my birthday, my dad would call and sing Happy Birthday to me in an extremely unique way.  I don't even think I can describe it.  Basically, he would sing it like he was an old, out of tune banjo--without any words.  So, it was something like, "Bear-na-near-near, near near.  Bear-na-near-near, near near. Bear-na-near-near, bear-na-near-near.  Bear-na-near-near, near near."  Can you sort of hear that? I don't think he did this for anyone else in our family, maybe he did, but I know it started with me.  And I missed it. My sister was kind enough to text it to me, Brian has sang it to me, I'm sure other people have thought of it today, too, but it just wasn't the same.  Maybe next year, it will be easier.  I hope so, any way.
It just serves as a reminder--we can all complain about getting older, not looking the same, not feeling the same.  Getting tired easier, more creaks and cracks when we walk, etc.  But a birthday is something to be cherished, something to be thankful for.  And you never know when you are celebrating your last one.  When my dad turned my age, he only had 19 birthdays left. If he had known that, he might have done some things differently.  If I only have 19 birthdays left, or maybe this is my last one, I want to make sure there is nothing I didnt' take the time to do now while I have the chance. I want to hug my girls a little more, spend more time with my friends, kiss my husband more often, enjoy the sunset and be more thankful each morning that I was allowed another opportunity to make a difference.  There are no guarantees in life and so I shouldn't just assume that I will get the opportunity to celebrate my birthday next year.  So, this one has to count.
Thanks to all of you who have sent me birthday wishes. Here's to lots and lots more birthdays!

I Heart Levis

I really miss my Dad today and I'm thinking about his Valentine and how she didn't get a gift from him this morning. I am remembering getting cards and chocolates and bears from him myself as a little girl. It's just another difficult day.
But God always finds a way. Today his message was pretty clear. A few children gave me candy but I only got one Valentine from a student today. One out of 400. And that's perfectly alright with me. My 5 year old little friend has no idea how much his simple gift meant to me. I have lots of students that are special to me, but this one will undoubtably always be in my heart.

Missing Someone at Christmas

I’m going to get away from my series about parenting aspecial needs child today to talk about something I think most people canrelate to.  I hope you don’t mind. I’llget back to the story about Imma’s journey tomorrow.

Word has it that the Mayans believed the world would come toan end in 2012.  As we approach the dateof the end of the Mayan Calendar and people across the globe discuss whether ornot they truly believe the world is going to end, I’d like to point somethingout.  The world already ended in2012.  If perception is reality, ifperspective determines realness, the world ended in 2012. The Mayans were stillwrong.  They were off by about 7 months.But as far as I am concerned, 2012 marked the end of the world, my world, as Ihad always known it. What I am living in now is something else, some new world,some different age, something I am building and creating as I go along.  Because my world will never be the samewithout my dad.

Maybe that sounds overly-dramatic or sappy, the world endedbecause my dad died, but if you’ve been in the position where you have lost aloved one, then you know exactly what I am talking about.  Sure, time still marches forward, we keepspinning, keep moving, but everything is different.  You will never hear a song the same way,watch a movie the same way, eat the same way. Everything is tied to a memory, a moment, a laugh or a smile.  It’s the same planet but it’s a differentworld.

Christmas has been particularly difficult because I spentalmost all of my Christmas’s with my dad. I think I may have missed five or sixat most because we have lived so far apart the last few years.  Every Christmas since Imma was born, my dad,youngest sister, and step-mom have come down to visit us, except last year.  A few years ago when it snowed heavily onChristmas Eve, they made the trek through the ice and snow just in time forchurch. They only went in the ditch once. But that’s how my dad rolled, literally. I remember the first ChristmasEve service he went to at the church we attend. After the service, he patted me on the shoulder and said he was proud ofme for finding such a great church to take Imma to.  Those are the types of memories Christmasevokes.

And there are thousands of those memories.  ChristmasVacation, can’t watch it this year. Love that movie but keep hearing my dad laugh every few seconds.  He always misquoted the line but I love itjust the same, “The little lights aren’t twinkling, Clark.”  It’s the same with A Christmas Story, It’s aWonderful Life, any of the cartoons. They all elicit memories of my dad laughing, calling us silly names,like “Klonk,”  or “Slonk-oh,” quotingline after line and eating popcorn on the couch.

My dad and I dancing at my wedding, photo bomb courtesy of my little sister, Braidi.

When I am in the car almost every song brings back memoriesof my dad, an extremely gifted musician. This summer, I remember being blinded by tears as I drove to the storeto the tune of, “Take Me Home Tonight,” simply because my dad had owned the 45.Christmas music brings a whole different sort of sadness.  My dad sang carols like no one else. He had asweet falsetto, beautiful harmony, and a gift for finding exactly the rightkey.  He would also change the word tothe song so that our names were in it. Every time I hear “I’ll Be Home forChristmas”  I hear my dad’s versions, “I’llbe home for Amy,” except he would purposely sing my name in a booming bassvoice off-key.  Those were the sillythings that will always stick with me. Those are the memories I am glad to havebut they still make Christmas very difficult.

My dad loved my home-made pizza. I’m not sure why.  I don’t cook so it’s nothingcomplicated.  Pre-made crust, jar ofpizza sauce, bag of cheese, and toppings. That’s all.  But he loved it so we had it almost everyChristmas Eve.  One time he didn’t getany because he was out picking up a few things I needed when we were eating. Itried to save him some but it was all gone. I’ll always remember things like that, the time I wish I had back to doover.  And every Christmas Eve, we willeat pizza, and miss Paw-Paw because he could eat pizza like no one else.

We will make new memories now, in this new world, the onethe Mayan’s predicted so long ago.  Wewill make silly songs for our girls, watch movies for the first time, laughbecause Lucy calls Elf “Santa” instead of Buddy.  We will eat pizza, probably store bought thisyear though because I don’t feel like making it.  We will give each other silly names and eatpopcorn on the couch.  And we will talkabout Paw-Paw. We’ll remember all of the good times we spent watching Christmasmovies and laughing.  We’ll talk aboutwhat he used to say, what he would have said, and what he would have sang orwould have preferred to eat.  We’ll go tochurch and be happy that dad thought it was a good place to be.  At the same time, I, like many of you, willneed a moment from time to time to catch my breath, to wipe away some tears, tofind the joy around me and to know that dad is there, even if I can’t seehim.  As Charlie says in The Santa Claus,“Just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”  My dad is a real part of our lives, still,and always.  This Christmas I will misshim so very much, but I will  continue toconstruct this new world, one memory at a time.