Dealing with Death Blows

I have struggled to deal with my parents mortality for the past few years. It is so hard to accept that a man you see as Superman could die…

Growing up, there was nothing my Dad could not do. He worked 60 hours a week at a foundry and when he found God, he had a full time ministry as well. When I was pregnant with my second child my Dad was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. He wasn’t supposed to live 4 years. My daughter is now 10. He passed away a little over a month ago, on my parent’s 41st wedding anniversary. His heart was four times the size it should be way back in 2001 and barely working. He was put on the heart transplant list but removed himself, sure that he was meant to leave this world with the body parts he came in with.

Right before he died they were talking of putting in a pacemaker. He was not sure he wanted that and the limitations it would bring. I have to respect his wishes, I would not want someone burdening me with their thoughts on what was right for me when I had to make my end of life decisions.

He was a good man, a godly man. His ministry touched many, many lives. His biggest mission was helping to take care of the residents at the women’s homeless shelter. They are building a new chapel and naming it in memory of him. The director of the shelter was at the memorial dinner and a told a story of when a woman needed bus fare to California to go home. He said he told my Dad that he was 99% sure that she was just making up this big sob story and using him for bus fare. My Dad told him, even if you were 100% sure, I would pay for her to get back home. When I am sitting as his memorial dinner, all of these people are going up and telling their story, why they loved my Dad, I couldn’t say anything. Not because I don’t have a story to tell or wonderful memories of him, but I just didn’t have the strength or energy to do it. All of these people saying how he paid someone to fix their car so they could get to work and didn’t lose their job. He put gas in their car. He was a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. He had faith in them when no one else did. He prayed for their loved ones. He gave them godly advice. One lady told of how he went home and got a coat from his own closet when she didn’t have one that fit properly.  All of those things are great, but beyond that… he was my Dad. The one who drove me and my Mom home from the hospital when I was born and walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. He was the one who stood by me when my first husband cheated on me (when I was pregnant with our 3rd child) even though the rest of the family thought I should stay “for the money”. He was the one who taught me how to fish and taught my kids to fire a BB Gun.

I am having a really difficult time dealing with the mortality of my parents. Sometimes Superman dies… Sometimes you are left with what you should have done or should have said. I had an excellent relationship with my Dad. There is not a man I respected more on this earth. But, it’s stuff like I didn’t take any pictures on Father’s Day, two weeks before he passed on. I miss him. I am grieving for the Grandpa my littlest one who is only 2 won’t get to have… Dealing with the death of my father is literally the most difficult thing I’ve done. I am in college and the summer semester ends Saturday. I am taking two classes and this is the worst I’ve done so far. There is one class I’m not sure I’m going to pass. I’m having a hard time caring about that though. It doesn’t seem important.

I’m trying to focus on losing weight now. This HAS to be important. My cardiologist said that the extra weight is hard on your heart and can actually cause something similar to happen to me, especially since I have a family history of heart trouble and the PVCs going on right now. I’m trying to stay focused. Trying to care. I was doing really well before my Dad died. And suddenly nothing seemed to matter. It HAS to matter though. Which is why I started this blog. I’m hoping that I can work out some of my own issues with weight, life, and everything and come out stronger in the end. I have little ones who need a mommy. I have an amazing husband who needs a wife. This HAS to matter.

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