I hadn't thought about this blog in awhile. I just linked to in on my other blog. And then I remember that I had posted this odd incident on Facebook on the 3rd anniversary of my dad's passing. I figured I should repost it here.

November 28, 2012 at 9:05am

So weird. This morning at 230 EST, my daughter woke us up because she managed to drop something on her head. Um, kind of sounds like something my dad would have done. It happened almost to the minute at the 3-yr anniversary of his passing. Strange energies.

Ides of March

It's been a while since I posted here. Mostly because I haven't felt compeled to write anything. However, today is the 3-year anniversary of the day my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The day my world was rocked, and not in a good way.

Not many days (if any for that matter) go by that I don't think about my dad. It seems like even if I'm not specifically trying to think of him, something reminds me of him.

I might hear the word "sparky," and it reminds me of dad because it was pet name he used to call me.

Or I'll capture an image and think to myself how my dad would have been proud of that shot.

Or maybe I'm having a random conversation with someone about how I got into singing.

Naturally, these things all remind me of him.

I wonder how many years will go by before the memory starts to fade a little, or make me just a little less sad.

Maybe it never will.

Our Cancer Story: Thankful

Our Cancer Story: Thankful

Thankful

Last year, I spent Thanksgiving day in a hospital room with my mother and sister, keeping each other company and glued together as best we could, literally waiting for my father to take his last breath. In a way, at that time, I was thankful that he wouldn't suffer the way he would have had he been able to ride out the cancer longer. The stroke/coma combination was supposedly "easier" on him in the long run. I'll never know if that is true, but I would like to think it is. Regardless, it wasn't exactly the way I wanted to make Thanksgiving holidays.

This is the first Thanksgiving without my dad. Granted, since I got married, we celebrated Thanksgiving with my in-laws and Christmas with my parents, so it had been a few years since I sat down and had a turkey dinner with my dad. But there is a difference between not being in the same house and simply not being.


This photo was taken in 1980, the year my little sister was born. It was in my aunt & uncle/cousins' home in Camden, NY. I think it must have been at Thanksgiving. Being that it is a Thanksgiving memory, I'd certainly prefer to have it be one in the forefront on my mind over last year's memories. I do remember that little red polka-dotted dress. I had a matching one for my doll. I'd be willing to bet that at least one of them is still floating around my mom's house somewhere.


This has been a rough week. Almost as rough as this same week last year, just different. Holidays tend to be stressful, chaotic, nostalgic. Then life adds this memory-of-a-decease-loved-one curve ball at you, and it's a wonder people don't wind up sedated for long periods of time. Really.

On our way down to my in-laws' house yesterday morning, I nearly had my husband drop me off at the Warrensburg exit on the Thruway so I could call my sister and have her come get me. I wasn't certain I could function with my other family. All I really wanted to do was curl up at my mom's house and cry. It was all I could do to keep it together and not be a blubbering mess in front of my kids. But a nap and fresh perspective kept me from completely falling apart. I made it through the day with a lot of choked back tears, but not too many that actually fell.

I recognize that as much as life has crappy moments, and even at the worst times, there are always things to be thankful for. There are people out there who are much less fortunate and/or lucky, and life could be so much worse--I know that. I am truly thankful for my family & friends with their love & support and blessed to have my husband and our four happy, healthy children.

anniversaries

I've decided they suck. At least some do.

I really didn't think I would be affected as much as I am. I think I'm pretty resilient. Maybe I'm just kidding myself; I think I'm pretty good at that, too.

When my dad was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, obviously we were all shocked. I was probably in denial. I may still be. But one year ago today was the beginning of the end of a very long roller coaster ride. My dad had a stroke, just about this time on that day. By the time I left him and my mom and sister at the hospital late that day, we thought things were fine. Or as fine as they could be given that he had a stroke and was in the hospital. Cancer complicates everything. I suppose he might not have even had the stroke if his body wasn't compromised from the chemo. But he did. And when I left the hospital that night, I certainly didn't think it would be the last time I saw him. I talked to him on the phone the next day, and maybe the one after that. But the next time I got to see my dad, he was comatose. So while he was still my dad, he wasn't my dad, if that makes sense to you.

Today is just a day like any other. But I'm in this funk that will not let up. And I guess I now know why. It's the anniversary of the day my dad had a stroke. The anniversary of the last day I was able to see and talk with him. Somehow knowing that, affects me more than knowing the anniversary of his actual passing is rounding the corner.

Classic Dad

I bought a new lens for my camera. Dad would be proud. This baby is HEAVY, weighing more than my camera itself. A sweet, uber-sharp standard focus lens. He made fun of my "plastic," lightweight digital camera lens when he first saw my digital SLR.

Much of my dad's photographic equipment is sitting in my basement. My mom didn't really have a use for it. My sister would like a camera. So I have flash units, cameras, lenses, filters, and stands galore.

My new lens needs a filter. Preferably a UV filter, but just about any basic filter will do, since really I just care about protecting my investment. Filters are a relatively inexpensive accessory, as far as camera equipment goes. I didn't order one when I got the lens, thinking I could use one of the 125 in my basement (it may not be that exact number, but close; maybe 117). Of all those filters? A single filter that fits my lens. One sad, lonely filter--that's BROKEN!! The threads are crushed. I mean, are you kidding? Why would you not throw that out?? Classic Dad. I'm sure at some point my dad duct taped it on so he could use it. Why chuck it if it can be retro-fitted?

I told my sister that story on the phone tonight. I think I began the conversation something along the lines of, "Oh, speaking of classic, I have a Classic Dad for you." She laughed, of course, and maybe even got a little choked up. (Fine, I did too.) She then proceeded to tell me about her Classic Dad of the week story. In the middle of the night last night, she used the bathroom and when she flushed, the flusher didn't work. So upon opening the lid to the tank to flush it manually and figure out what was wrong...she discovered the chain was broken. Or rather, dad's zip tie chain had broken.

Classic Dad.

Ides of March

It was one year ago yesterday when we found out my dad had cancer. I wasn't sure if that date mattered. It didn't bother me on a conscious level, but boy did my subconscious know it. It was just one of those down days, no matter what I tried. Today is a little better, although, it is my Grandma Chaffee's birthday today.

But as "luck" would have it, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day and that's always a good day, right?