February 3, 2014

It's so hard to believe that it's February already.  In so many ways it feels like everything came to a screeching halt on January 12th and that time stopped passing.  It still seems so unreal and I keep thinking I will wake up at any moment and it will all be a nightmare...but I know that will never really happen.

I just continue to put one foot in front of the other and take one day (sometimes one minute) at a time.

Mom and I have talked about all the "Firsts" that we will be facing in the days, weeks and months to come.  Yesterday I faced a few of those...

The day Dad died, we had a family dinner at my cousins house (carrying on a tradition started by my Grandma).  It was a fun day, dinner, football, and for a few of us, cards.  At half time of the Bronco game, we decided to move across the street to my Aunts house to finish the Bronco game.  Mom and Dad decided to go home at that point, and finish watching the game there.   It was only 10 or 15 minutes later that my mom called and asked me to come to their house (right next door to my aunt and uncle's house).   When I got outside I saw the firetruck and ambulance...I got in the house and Mom told me he was unconscious and I saw the paramedics working on him.  He never woke up.  I think it was just over an hour later that marks the official time of death.

Yesterday, my cousin hosted another family dinner, before the Super Bowl, and then we moved across the street to watch the game.  I had no idea how much anxiety I had about facing the day until I had nightmares all night on Saturday.  I hadn't been to my cousins since that day.  The last time I saw my dad conscious was at her house.  When I first woke up on Sunday morning, I decided I was going to stay home. I just couldn't face it.  I didn't even want to step foot out of my bed.  But the more I thought of it, I knew I had to face it.  I can't allow myself to sink in to the dark place I was threatening to go by not even getting out of bed.  That would have been the easy course, but I couldn't let it happen.  Dad would never want that.  We had dinner, and we visited, and it was good.

After dinner, we went across the street and someone broke out the cards.  And I faced another first.  I played, and I enjoyed myself.

And as much as I was hoping the Broncos would win, for Dad, I know he was there with us, and I know he was happy they made it as far as they did.  And, I know he would have been yelling at the TV with the rest of us, all through the game!

So, rather than stay in bed and allow myself to sink in to the darkness and depression that is threatening me daily, I cried a little (or a lot) and did what I had to do.  I faced my fears and dread head on.  I survived.  And now I have a little extra strength to help me through the next firsts I face.

I love you, Dad.  I miss like crazy!