Loss x 2.

It was almost 17 years ago that I was awakened in the night to flashing red lights outside my window and the light tapping of my mother at the bedroom door.  The ambulance was there for my father.  I still remember watching them load his body onto the gurney and wheel him out to the vehicle.  I still remember looking into his bedroom and to the place where he had stumbled trying to make it to his bed not knowing if he would be okay.  I remember peeking into the room where my baby girl was sleeping, wondering if I should wake her, wondering if I should go now with my mother to the hospital - unsure what was right, unsure what was happening and unsure how tragedies like this one were to be handled.

I also remember the weeks and months that followed.  I remember loading up baby Anna and her stroller and all her gear and taking her every day to see Papa.  I remember Papa being her first word, because we were always going to see him.  I remember putting on the happy face and facade of strength for my mother - while inside I was an innocent child, uncertain of my feelings - afraid of the outcome.  I remember sitting at dinner one night with my husband, fighting to hold back tears but failing at that and becoming a sobbing spectacle in the middle of Macaroni Grill.

But doctors are life savers and save his life they did.  Sort of.....  The stroke had ravaged the left side of his brain, stolen his speech and ability to walk but the rest of him was intact - memory, reasoning and full thinking skills alive and well.  Months of rehab ensued but full restoration never achieved.  He was a trooper.  Always making the best of a bad situation.  He kept a cheerful attitude in spite of sorry circumstances.   He was eventually able to live at home again without much assistance.  He could manage personal hygiene and simple meals on his own so Mom was able to work.  He stayed at this level for many years but one day he realized that he would not be able to maintain his strength much longer.

And then, being the caring husband and father that he was - he requested to be moved to a nursing home - easing the burden of that decision away from my mother, brother and I.  It didn't take long for him to become one of the favorites at the home.  He managed to be funny - even without his ability to speak.  He endeared himself to the nurses and they loved him, spoiled him even and I believe that he was happy there for awhile.  But as the years went on, he became weaker and weaker.....  and increasingly weary of life in general.

It has been a year or more that he has been pointing to heaven almost every time I visit.  But only in the last few months does it seem that he is giving up on this earthly life.  He now is unable to get up into his wheelchair at all.  He is completely bedridden and battling bedsores.  It becomes more and more difficult for me to go see him and I find myself making excuses and putting it off.   I also find myself close to tears or crying after each visit.  I believe he is suffering - if not physically, then definitely emotionally.  And I don't know how to process that in my head.

17 years ago I lost my dad.  I mourned him as if he had died.  Because - even though he lived, he was not my dad.  He was not the man who raised me - not the man who loved making homemade bread, working in his yard and toting his baby granddaughter around.  But I established a new bond with the man he became after the stroke - the sweet, gentle, quiet man in the wheelchair who was always happy to see me and ready to listen to whatever I had to say.  And maybe, just maybe - I loved this man even more - because I had matured and learned to see the good in him that I hadn't always seen when he was able bodied.

I feel as if I am losing him all over again.  I feel he will not be here much longer, hope for it even - because I know he is hurting and I know he has wanted Heaven for a very long time.  And I understand that when it happens, it will be a relief in a way - but that doesn't make the time waiting any easier and I'm not sure it will make the recovery from it any less difficult.  I also believe my grief is intensified because of my other recent loss - the death of my marriage.  Both heartaches one right after another - keep me in an inner turmoil I can't describe.  And I'm not sure what one does with this kind of emotional trauma....  except keep on keeping on, living day to day - one foot in front of the other until time heals the wound.

Choosing joy in spite of life's circumstances.....   sometimes it's like grasping at straws.  But if there is one lesson to be learned from my dad - it's just that.  He chose to be happy in spite of the adversity life gave him.  He chose happiness for 17 years.  He not only chose joy but he chose to give joy to others even when he would have been completely justified in being angry and bitter because of his situation.  I only hope that I can live this legacy going forward.