Back to Reality

I just feel drained right now.  I’m on my way back home after visiting my Dad in the hospital in Alabama.  The weekend after my husband died, my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that had metastasized onto his spine.  I knew that I had to go see him.  My greatest regret is that when my husband was intubated, I didn’t know it would be the last time I would talk with him.  So when my Dad was in the hospital, I knew I had to get out to see him.  I didn’t realize how traumatic going back into the hospital would be for me.   Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome kicked in.  Luckily my brother and best friend made the trip with me & were there for me to sob all over.   

My Dad will be fine - or as fine as you can be after having radiation and surgery.  The oncologist said he has another 5 to 10 years left.  Since he’s 80, that sounds like a long time to me.  

So now I’m heading home, back to reality.  And although I wasn’t avoiding my grief, my focus was on being there for my Dad and the grief took a back seat.  As I get closer to home, I feel the sorrow descending again.  It’s a complex mix of knowing he won’t be there; he’ll never be there again.  I’m responsible for myself competely now.  I’m responsible for dealing with all of his stuff.  I didn’t realize until he died how much I depended on him, how much we shared the responsibilities.  It’s stupid shit; taking out the trash, dealing with the vehicles and registration; that make me aware of how gone he is.   

So here I sit at the Denver Airport.  My flight is delayed.  Just because I’m not already tired enough....