TGIF. It has been on the the longest weeks of my life, and quite possibly, the longest. I'm looking forward to the weekend when I can let down my my guard and take my game face off; the only people I have to be strong for are my children. I don't have to go to work and pretend that the world is moving at it's normal pace when in fact, for me, it is standing still.
I keep thinking that this is just a bad dream. The sad truth is this nightmare is very real. I read the thoughts by sister posts and it brings me to tears. I guess by the nature of being the oldest child, I was fortunate enough to have found someone special sooner so I had the opportunity to have my daddy walk me down the isle (at which time he did make me cry). He was able to meet all of his grandchildren by me (there will be no more, I promise). He's been able to put them to bed, read them bedtime stories, and tease and joke they way all Papas do with their grandchildren.
Last night Daryl and I sat down with our oldest children to break the news to them. While we certainly hope Papa will be around more than a few more months, we felt we needed to let them at least know Papa was sick. Quite honestly, you can't put anything past my kids; they are too observant for their own good most of the time. And when they see Papa Wednesday night before his Thursday procedure, they will know something isn't right.
We told them about the disease Papa has, how he'll be in pain, get weak, and not be able to eat. Our son said, "but if Papa can't eat, then I won't have a Papa anymore." Pretty much sums it up, doesn't it?
If that won't make a parent cry, I don't know what will. I'm hoping tonight I won't cry myself to sleep again, but I'm not going to bet on it.
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