The Dead Dads Club

My father died six years ago. Six years and four days ago, exactly. It took me a very long time to grieve his death. He had pancreatic cancer, a type that is particularly aggressive, and almost never forgiving. He was originally given 6 - 9 months to live, and ended up living 18 months. He was blessed with that extra time, as were we. I feel as though I grieved him being gone even before he was gone. I knew that some day soon, he would not be here with me any longer. I knew that he wasn't going to make it to my senior prom, my wedding, or the day that I brought home my first child. I had to deal with those thoughts even before he was gone. And in my 17 year old way, I tried.

I still believe that I preferred knowing the cancer would eventually take him away from us. It gave me time to deal with the fact that I would come home one evening and his light by his chair in the living room would not be on, and he would not be sitting in it reading or watching the Discovery channel. I knew that sometime soon, I would walk into the kitchen for a glass of water in the night, and he would no longer be there, listening to James Taylor until he grew sleepy.

And that's pretty much how it happened. Those little moments after his death, when I would walk into the kitchen at midnight expecting him to be there, brought a subtle grief with them. Did they accumulate into those stages of grief that you hear about? No. I feel as though I didn't really grieve his death until years later. Something as silly as my first breakup brought that on. I didn't even like the boy that much, but I suppose I just really wanted my dad there to console me, or beat him up, I don't know which. Either would have been nice.

I still miss him, but six years later, the missing is different. I would love to have him here working with Alan and I on the house. He knew a lot more about this stuff than we do. I recently read about Roseanne Cash's book, Composed, on a friend's blog. My friend's brother recently passed away, and she had read the book and had this to say about it. "...Most of the memoir seems to be about Johnny Cash and growing up in reaction to him. The things Rosanne chose to do or not to do mostly seem based on a desire to either get away from or get back to what her father did. I guess that’s the way it is with most of us and our parents, only most of us don’t have to do it under a spotlight.

There was one particular passage towards the end of the book that I read several times. She is talking about her reaction to the death of her father and she writes,

“You begin to realize that everyone has a tragedy, and that if he doesn’t, he will. You recognize how much is hidden behind the small courtesies and civilities of everyday existence. Deep sorrow and traces of great loss run through everyone’s lives, and yet they let others step into the elevator first, wave them ahead in a line of traffic, smile and greet their children and inquire about their lives, and never let on for a second that they, too, have lain awake at night in longing and regret, that they, too, have cried until it seemed impossible that one person could hold so many tears, that they, too keep a picture of someone locked in their heart and bring it out in quiet, solitary moments to caress and remember. Loss is the great unifier, the terrible club to which we all eventually belong.”

I feel this everyday. I think of my dad every day. Although the grieving process is done, and I dealt with it long ago, I still miss him like any daughter would. But I feel that what Roseanne Cash has written here is so true. I feel it every day.

Repainting the Kitchen

Heyo! Kitchen is all painted. AGAIN. It turned out that my super exciting plan to paint the kitchen pumpkin orange was not such a good one. The kitchen is so small, that I really hated the whole kitchen being such a bright color. I decided that having one wall orange, and painting the rest of the kitchen an off-white would be the way to go. So, I did. Yup...two months after painting the kitchen, I repainted it. But I love it now. It looks great. So...I got that going for me. Just three more rooms to paint. Ugh.

Our Family is One Larger

Last week, our family grew by one. We adopted an adorable 9 month old Lab/Redbone Coon Hound mix. He is absolutely adorable. Shelby, as we've named him, has some serious magical powers. His main power is being able to turn me into a Jewish mother. Seriously. Right now I believe he is God's gift to me. He is the smartest dog ever....and Good Lord, look at that face! Most handsome boy ever!

(Not so) Little known fact: Alan and I are crazy about animals. Shelby's addition to our family now makes it a menagerie. We now own: 1 dog, 1 cat, 2 rats, 2 guinea pigs, and we also feed and care for 2 stray cats. And did you know our home is only about 800 square feet? Shelby makes it 36 feet walking around those 800 square feet. Good thing we have a big very spacious backyard that Shelby really seems to enjoy.

I've been on the lookout for a pretend engagement ring lately. Sounds silly, right? Yea...it kind of is. But, working retail, I have strange men ask me if I'm single and wanna date...while they're busy stealing. No....really. That's the type of men coming my way. And I am more than happy with my man, and don't expect a real engagement ring anytime soon. So, I've been looking for a ring to wear while at work. Of course, I was more interested in rings that are MUCH cuter than plain, fake engagement rings. Although I really don't like rings, I think these from verameat are so adorable.

Not a ring, but a necklace...of a Hatchet Wielding Centaur Pirate, of course!
And here, we obviously have a hippopotamus shark monster eating a woman.