The Final Kick in My Ass

On June 27th, just days before Dad passed away, Anthony thought I needed something to pick my mood up.  We had been talking about adding a new furbaby to our household for several weeks so it was no real surprise but still a huge joy when he brought me home a 5 week old Siamese-mix kitten.

At that time I was reading The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton.  I decided to give the young kitten the same name as the lead character, Lily.  Oddly prophetic?  You decide.

Lily snuggled right in to our little household.  She spent her days cuddling with Sam on the couch and her nights curled up in the towels I had folded up in a box for her bed.  Except for that very last night.

I'm not sure if it was because she just wanted to be close to me, perhaps she could sense my sadness at Dad passing away just a day & a half before.  Or possibly she wasn't feeling well herself and wanted my warmth and comfort.  We will never know why Lily climbed under the covers in the middle of the night, if that was her undoing or if she knew her time was already approaching.  I woke up on the morning of Lily's 5th day with us to find her dead beside me.

The week between Dad's passing and his funeral became even more difficult for me.  Thank you little Lily for the joy you did bring me during those hard days after I put Dad into Hospice. R.I.P.

Rest in Peace Now Dad

I'm not going to lie, this is going to be a difficult post for me to compose.  I have had 10 years to prepare myself for June 29th of this year but there are certain stages of grief that you just can't go through until the time actually comes.

This photo of Dad, Bug, and Nanbaby was taken just a couple days before Dad told me he was done fighting.  It was difficult to hear him say that he was tired and ready to go "sleep" with his wife (my mother who passed away 15 years ago).  It was difficult, but I understood, he had held on for 10 years for me and it was time to let him go. 

It saddens me to think of all that my father gave up when he tried to end his life so many years ago.  I still grieve for the grandfather that my children never really got to know.  I still miss the father that was strong for me so many times as I was growing up.

It took me ten years to get past my anger at my father for attempting to kill himself and for the state that his attempt left his mind and body in,  But now I realize that those are ten years that I cherish.  That was ten more years that I got to spend with my father.  Even though his brain was very damaged from lack of oxygen and he wasn't able to have in-depth conversations any longer, I came to realize something that I wasn't aware of prior to his self-imposed life sentence, my father did love me and was proud to call me his daughter.  There were times when we butted heads as I grew up that I would've told you differently, but after the last ten years I can tell you without a doubt that I had not given him enough credit as a father. I did not know what he was dealing with.  I did not realize that he had a treatable illness very similar to mine.  Looking back I can now see the signs, but they were never glaringly obvious.

Depression is a serious illness that some people can hide a lot better than others.  If you know someone that you think may be depressed or having a difficult time please reach out to them.  If you are feeling down yourself or confused about life, please reach out to someone. There could be someone out there that needs you more than you realize.  I was lucky to have the time to repair my relationship with Dad (the best I could given his limitations), and I realize that, but I also realize how many times I could have benefited from having my Dad be his full, capable self over the last decade.  I guess a girl never out grows needing her Daddy.

Daddy I love you.