Friday, June 13, 2008

One Last Thing Before I Leave...

There was a story in my local newspaper this morning about a wonderful program I wanted to share. Not for kids, but for our vets.

There is an organization called Honor Flight that sends vets to Washington, D.C. for free so they can see their memorials. Right now their priority is WWII vets because we are losing an average of 1,200 WWII vets per day. In five-ten years' time, they will all be gone.

This really touched me and made me tear up. I will be making a donation in my dad's name. If you know any WWII vets or any terminally ill vets, send them the link.

Apparently there are two organizations with similar names, and the one I have linked to is the only one that offers free flights.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Bags are Being Packed

I'm finishing laundry, packing my bags, printing estate stuff on my printer and getting ready to head off to Colorado one last time.

We'll be back in July sometime. I won't have computer access at all, so have a great June, everyone.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

Roller Coaster

Life continues to be a roller coaster -- full of ups and downs.

Today was a good day, I got a lot of cleaning (desperately needed, I might add!) done and several loads of laundry. I even looked at my summer and 7th grade plans and started rethinking next year's choices.

Tonight I talked on the phone with my sister. I told her how sad I am that we'll be at dad's house next week to clean it out. This is so hard for me. I am the only one of four children that lived in that house. We moved there my sophomore year of high school. I first started dating while there, I smooched my sweeties on the patio glider, I snuck cigarettes there, and forgive me for saying this, I had a game of strip poker there when my parents weren't home. (I did not strip, only one guy did -- it was my first year of college, I was crazy.) Oh gosh, I've never admitted that to anyone.

Where I live now is my home, but dad's house is home, too. It's hard to say goodbye. I am fearing I'll be highly emotional. I told my sister tonight that I don't want to clean the counter next to the stove because that's where dad kept his calendar, his appointment cards, and all his very important stuff and I was never allowed to touch it. How on earth can I go in there and move his stuff, throw it away, take some, load some up for siblings, and/or donate it? I have such an attachment.

I've been in bed, but I started crying. That's why I got up -- blogging to take tears away. I guess it's all part of the mourning process.

I miss my dad every single day. Dad was a rock, my rock, my safety net, the man with answers. Now he's gone, his home will be gone, and we'll just have our memories and mementos we take with us.

Right before my mom died she told me that, "Death is a part of life." Don't' fear it. She then keeled over, had a heart attack in front of me, and was in a coma for nearly three days before she passed.

Hey, why am I the one child, out of four, that had to witness both my parents' heart attacks? My sister said it was because I was the one that could handle it. Handle it -- well, I did at the time. After, I broke down. I gained 50 pounds seemingly overnight when mom died. I am not gaining weight with dad's death, but I have that new diagnosis of anxiety disorder. Hey, maybe all the shaking I do when I'm having a panic attack will burn some calories and help me lose that 50 pounds I gained 15 years ago. Wishful thinking.

It's just hard to say goodbye. No more Denver. No more driving I-25, which I hated with a passion. No more Casa Bonita. No more swimming in dad's pool. No more Olive Garden with dad. No more a lot of things.

I have asked Thomas to think of some things he'd like to do because this will probably be the last time for years to come that we'll be in Denver. Casa Bonita was the top of his list. I'd like to go to the Nature and Science Museum again -- I love that place. The Denver Art Museum, the train museum in Golden, our old haunts, silly things like dad's Sam's Club, DAV to buy used clothing on senior citizen day. Dad would pay and get the 50% discount.

Gosh, I am not enjoying this goodbye one bit. I'm kicking and screaming inside. And crying a little, too.

I miss my dad. My mind tells me he's in a better place (yes, I do believe that) and pain free. My mind reminds me he was 81 years old, lived an excellent life. Still, it's hard.

Goodbye Dad, goodbye house, goodbye Denver. Time for a new chapter.