This may be the shortest entry yet but it happened so I am reporting it. First off, I spoke to my lawyer today. She is processing my divorce paperwork and it should be ready for me to sign on Monday night after work. Then it needs to be sent to the loser in Florida to sign and be notarized. Provided he feels the urge to send it back, it gets filed through the courts and I think a judge reviews it and hopefully I am done with him forever.
Before I have no use for him for good, I am considering sending him a message to donate towards my fundraising efforts on Sunday, but I am skeptical. He went from stalking me to changing his phone number and completely ignoring me. Of course he did drop my health insurance in the process. I think he did some of it out of spite for not permitting him to show up at my father’s funeral in an attempt to prevent a fist fight. The other part of it, I think is just sheer anger at me. I feel like rubbing it in his face and making him feel bad so he gives money, yet at the same time, I do not want to piss him off further so he gives me a hard time and does not sign the paperwork which will arrive in the next few weeks. My boyfriend, who has also been a huge help and source of support during a time when I was frustrated because I was doing it alone, has set up a page and taken part in the event. He even went so far as to set up a team at work and they have a corporate gift program so the monies he raises will go even further. I am so grateful for his help. Yet as it relates to my ex (or very, very soon to be) I do not want him to see my team, start researching the members and then read that one of them is involved with me as more than a supportive friend. So far I have played nice in the sandbox and with just a few short weeks to go, I see no need to add fuel to the fire. I guess this is one less donation I will be OK not receiving.
Now for the bigger reason I felt an update was in order. If nothing else, I know I did the right thing. I told my father prior to his passing that I was walking on his behalf to help people going through what he went through. When he asked if I would be walking if he was not here, I vowed to walk in his memory and to do it every year if I could. I am not a quitter and when I set my mind to do something, I always am sure to follow through. I vowed to myself and to my father that I would walk and raise money so that people did not have to suffer the way that he did. As of right now, my team has raised close to $6300 and I know there are more donations on the way or that still need to be turned in. And then there is the corporate match from my boyfriend’s company. I have gathered about 30 people that will be walking with me on Sunday. Not all of them have raised funds but have made small individual contributions instead. Mostly, they know how important this cause is to me and they are walking with me for support. Most people tell me how proud they are of me and what a wonderful and noble thing I am doing. I have sent messages out to my fathers friends and co-workers and so many of them are proud of me, encourage me and tell me I am doing such a wonderful thing and that if my father were here, he would be proud. I like to believe they know what they are talking about. But at the end of the day, I am proud of myself. I know that the work I do and all the stress that went into getting all these people involved, the countless hours I have put into this event are for the better. All the e-mails, donations, promoting and late nights to get things off the ground are going to make a true difference in the lives of others.
While I am very proud of myself, I do know the walk is bringing up emotions for so many that have tried to not deal with the pain or reality of the situation and why it is we walk and who it is we walk in memory of. My brother has been having a hard time lately. He just had his 26th birthday and today is what would have been my parents wedding anniversary. I mentioned yesterday or what may now be a double post today that it was like pulling teeth to get people involved initially. As it turns out, it is just too much too soon for certain people. I have about 30 people that may be walking on Sunday and they are starting to ask where to meet and how to find everyone. I am stressed out of my mind lately and organizing this event has been more work than I ever imagined. In trying to find a quick convenient way to get everyone together, I figured my mother who has not really done much or my future sister in law who is very crafty could make up a simple sign with the team name on it. Well, little did I know that such a small request would turn into such a big production.
Turns out my mother did not really want to do it so she asked my sister in law to make a sign. This request prompted my brother to grab the phone, yell at my mother and tell her that if he heard one more thing about the walk he was going to kill someone. All I know is my mother was hysterical crying on the phone saying, “I know I feel the same way.” Then he was apparently hysterical crying as well so my mother handed me the phone where my brother proceeded to rip me a new one. He told me that he did not want to walk, he thought the entire idea was stupid, he hates me for doing this, he wants no part of it and he is telling me right now that if I plan on doing this every year, I had better not ask him to do this ever again. He basically told me I was wasting everyone’s time and it was as stupid idea. He then went into why the hell should I be trying so hard to raise money to help strangers when no one tried to help our father. He pointed out that walking was not going to bring my father back to life and he hates the calls, e-mails and posters I am giving to everyone because everywhere he looks he has to be reminded that his father is not here and he can’t deal with it anymore. I suppose that at some point he had to snap and let it all out, but I never expected this reaction. Had he told me sooner it was too emotional for him, I never would have pushed so hard but he waits until 5 days before to tell me this. In the process he makes me feel like a piece of shit and a failure. He makes me feel stupid for wasting time and like a total bitch for annoying everyone.
I told my brother if it was too much for him he did not need to walk and no one would be the wiser. As it turns out, my mother is kind of in the same boat and has been completely uninvolved for the same reasons. She will be walking, but grudgingly. All I wanted to do was make some good come out of this and to help others. I watched my father suffer in a way no human should have to and if I can do anything at all to spare someone else the pain I saw my father go through, how can I not do this? My father is not here and I miss him. Things are changing and they will never be the same. All I can do is move forward, know I am a good person and remember the good times, but what I really remember most is how my father suffered. I recently had to go to the doctor and had an anxiety attack walking in because the last time I was there, it was with my father. As I waited for the elevator, I looked over and saw the stairs and remembered how the day I took my father for his PET Scan, the elevator was out of order. He could barely make it from the car into the building ( a mere 100 feet or less), let alone up the steps. I walked around the building trying to find another way for him to get up to the third floor but there was none. I was determined to go up and cancel his appointment, but my father insisted on getting the test done as this was a step necessary to find out what was going on with the cancer in his body and crucial to his chemo treatments and most importantly, his last hope of staying alive. Step by step, he painfully walked up three flights of stairs. Stopping every step, huffing and puffing and not being able to breathe. Not having eaten in day, too weak to barely stand let alone climb the steps, but he did it. (This was right around the time his kidneys must have been starting to fail and he could not get comfortable for more than 5 minutes.)
Then there was the thought of his spine sticking out of the back of his shirt. The fact that the last day he was so weak I literally had to carry him down a flight of stairs. He needed to use the toilet but was to weak to stand so I had to help him sit down to pee. And when he was done, I had to lift him off the toilet. He was so weak; he could not even bend to pull his pants back up. I picture the countless nights he came up the stairs to bed completely out of breath. The days he spend sleeping, the simplest of activities he enjoyed but could no longer partake in as he lacked the energy to do them. I remember the sleepless nights of worry, spending the entire month of December in the emergency room, his last day when he was so uncomfortable and I tried and tired but it was no use- he was too far gone.
I picture him in the hospital bed- his skin and the whites of his eyes yellow, his hand and feet deep purple from lack of circulation. I picture him telling me to make it stop and him fighting for the most shallow of breaths. I remember him turning into skin and bones- literally. I recall his hepatic coma and his inability to recall my name, his name and the names of common objects. I recall the days when he was so bad mentally he had forgotten how to read, write, and how to perform the most basic of hygiene routines. I try and remember all the good times, but mostly what I recall are the last days- the very last month when I watched him slip away from all of us. I watched as his essence faded away just like the rest of him. I watched as a man I looked to for advice and who helped bring me into this world become childlike. He went from taking care of me and himself, to me taking care of him. I watched him suffer like no one should. The little things we all take for granted stripped away from him. I watched him lose his sense of self and his dignity and then I sat by his bedside, held his hand while he passed away and pulled his eyelids shut when all was said and done. So I walk proudly on Sunday so that no one has to watch their father, mother, brother, sister, friend, relative or co-worker suffer the way my father had to. I walk to make a difference- big or small.
Is my walking going to bring my father back? NO. Is it going to make things right? NO. Is it going to make the pain go away? NO. Is it going to make the horrible memories of his suffering go away? Hell NO. But is it going to possibly do some good? Absolutely!
So I will walk, and walk and walk. People don’t understand it- maybe I don’t even understand it. My father was so critical- never supportive of anything we did. My brother was quick to point out that if I am doing this to gain the approval of a dead person, I am even more stupid. Well in that respect, maybe I am. I know I will never again here my father’s voice. I know I will never get the chance for him to tell me I did good or it OK or that he is proud of me, but deep down inside, I like to think he is looking down upon me and he is proud. I like to think that while he did not get it at the time, he gets it now and he is proud of who I have become and what I have done. And if nothing else- I do this for me- to make myself proud, to make myself feel as if I have accomplished something in a world that has failed me, or I it.
Wow! Looks like I had a lot more to say than I originally thought. My shortest entry ever turned into a teary eyed evening. On that note, I have mentally drained myself this evening and have to go now. Let’s hope the days ahead are easier ones.
Before I have no use for him for good, I am considering sending him a message to donate towards my fundraising efforts on Sunday, but I am skeptical. He went from stalking me to changing his phone number and completely ignoring me. Of course he did drop my health insurance in the process. I think he did some of it out of spite for not permitting him to show up at my father’s funeral in an attempt to prevent a fist fight. The other part of it, I think is just sheer anger at me. I feel like rubbing it in his face and making him feel bad so he gives money, yet at the same time, I do not want to piss him off further so he gives me a hard time and does not sign the paperwork which will arrive in the next few weeks. My boyfriend, who has also been a huge help and source of support during a time when I was frustrated because I was doing it alone, has set up a page and taken part in the event. He even went so far as to set up a team at work and they have a corporate gift program so the monies he raises will go even further. I am so grateful for his help. Yet as it relates to my ex (or very, very soon to be) I do not want him to see my team, start researching the members and then read that one of them is involved with me as more than a supportive friend. So far I have played nice in the sandbox and with just a few short weeks to go, I see no need to add fuel to the fire. I guess this is one less donation I will be OK not receiving.
Now for the bigger reason I felt an update was in order. If nothing else, I know I did the right thing. I told my father prior to his passing that I was walking on his behalf to help people going through what he went through. When he asked if I would be walking if he was not here, I vowed to walk in his memory and to do it every year if I could. I am not a quitter and when I set my mind to do something, I always am sure to follow through. I vowed to myself and to my father that I would walk and raise money so that people did not have to suffer the way that he did. As of right now, my team has raised close to $6300 and I know there are more donations on the way or that still need to be turned in. And then there is the corporate match from my boyfriend’s company. I have gathered about 30 people that will be walking with me on Sunday. Not all of them have raised funds but have made small individual contributions instead. Mostly, they know how important this cause is to me and they are walking with me for support. Most people tell me how proud they are of me and what a wonderful and noble thing I am doing. I have sent messages out to my fathers friends and co-workers and so many of them are proud of me, encourage me and tell me I am doing such a wonderful thing and that if my father were here, he would be proud. I like to believe they know what they are talking about. But at the end of the day, I am proud of myself. I know that the work I do and all the stress that went into getting all these people involved, the countless hours I have put into this event are for the better. All the e-mails, donations, promoting and late nights to get things off the ground are going to make a true difference in the lives of others.
While I am very proud of myself, I do know the walk is bringing up emotions for so many that have tried to not deal with the pain or reality of the situation and why it is we walk and who it is we walk in memory of. My brother has been having a hard time lately. He just had his 26th birthday and today is what would have been my parents wedding anniversary. I mentioned yesterday or what may now be a double post today that it was like pulling teeth to get people involved initially. As it turns out, it is just too much too soon for certain people. I have about 30 people that may be walking on Sunday and they are starting to ask where to meet and how to find everyone. I am stressed out of my mind lately and organizing this event has been more work than I ever imagined. In trying to find a quick convenient way to get everyone together, I figured my mother who has not really done much or my future sister in law who is very crafty could make up a simple sign with the team name on it. Well, little did I know that such a small request would turn into such a big production.
Turns out my mother did not really want to do it so she asked my sister in law to make a sign. This request prompted my brother to grab the phone, yell at my mother and tell her that if he heard one more thing about the walk he was going to kill someone. All I know is my mother was hysterical crying on the phone saying, “I know I feel the same way.” Then he was apparently hysterical crying as well so my mother handed me the phone where my brother proceeded to rip me a new one. He told me that he did not want to walk, he thought the entire idea was stupid, he hates me for doing this, he wants no part of it and he is telling me right now that if I plan on doing this every year, I had better not ask him to do this ever again. He basically told me I was wasting everyone’s time and it was as stupid idea. He then went into why the hell should I be trying so hard to raise money to help strangers when no one tried to help our father. He pointed out that walking was not going to bring my father back to life and he hates the calls, e-mails and posters I am giving to everyone because everywhere he looks he has to be reminded that his father is not here and he can’t deal with it anymore. I suppose that at some point he had to snap and let it all out, but I never expected this reaction. Had he told me sooner it was too emotional for him, I never would have pushed so hard but he waits until 5 days before to tell me this. In the process he makes me feel like a piece of shit and a failure. He makes me feel stupid for wasting time and like a total bitch for annoying everyone.
I told my brother if it was too much for him he did not need to walk and no one would be the wiser. As it turns out, my mother is kind of in the same boat and has been completely uninvolved for the same reasons. She will be walking, but grudgingly. All I wanted to do was make some good come out of this and to help others. I watched my father suffer in a way no human should have to and if I can do anything at all to spare someone else the pain I saw my father go through, how can I not do this? My father is not here and I miss him. Things are changing and they will never be the same. All I can do is move forward, know I am a good person and remember the good times, but what I really remember most is how my father suffered. I recently had to go to the doctor and had an anxiety attack walking in because the last time I was there, it was with my father. As I waited for the elevator, I looked over and saw the stairs and remembered how the day I took my father for his PET Scan, the elevator was out of order. He could barely make it from the car into the building ( a mere 100 feet or less), let alone up the steps. I walked around the building trying to find another way for him to get up to the third floor but there was none. I was determined to go up and cancel his appointment, but my father insisted on getting the test done as this was a step necessary to find out what was going on with the cancer in his body and crucial to his chemo treatments and most importantly, his last hope of staying alive. Step by step, he painfully walked up three flights of stairs. Stopping every step, huffing and puffing and not being able to breathe. Not having eaten in day, too weak to barely stand let alone climb the steps, but he did it. (This was right around the time his kidneys must have been starting to fail and he could not get comfortable for more than 5 minutes.)
Then there was the thought of his spine sticking out of the back of his shirt. The fact that the last day he was so weak I literally had to carry him down a flight of stairs. He needed to use the toilet but was to weak to stand so I had to help him sit down to pee. And when he was done, I had to lift him off the toilet. He was so weak; he could not even bend to pull his pants back up. I picture the countless nights he came up the stairs to bed completely out of breath. The days he spend sleeping, the simplest of activities he enjoyed but could no longer partake in as he lacked the energy to do them. I remember the sleepless nights of worry, spending the entire month of December in the emergency room, his last day when he was so uncomfortable and I tried and tired but it was no use- he was too far gone.
I picture him in the hospital bed- his skin and the whites of his eyes yellow, his hand and feet deep purple from lack of circulation. I picture him telling me to make it stop and him fighting for the most shallow of breaths. I remember him turning into skin and bones- literally. I recall his hepatic coma and his inability to recall my name, his name and the names of common objects. I recall the days when he was so bad mentally he had forgotten how to read, write, and how to perform the most basic of hygiene routines. I try and remember all the good times, but mostly what I recall are the last days- the very last month when I watched him slip away from all of us. I watched as his essence faded away just like the rest of him. I watched as a man I looked to for advice and who helped bring me into this world become childlike. He went from taking care of me and himself, to me taking care of him. I watched him suffer like no one should. The little things we all take for granted stripped away from him. I watched him lose his sense of self and his dignity and then I sat by his bedside, held his hand while he passed away and pulled his eyelids shut when all was said and done. So I walk proudly on Sunday so that no one has to watch their father, mother, brother, sister, friend, relative or co-worker suffer the way my father had to. I walk to make a difference- big or small.
Is my walking going to bring my father back? NO. Is it going to make things right? NO. Is it going to make the pain go away? NO. Is it going to make the horrible memories of his suffering go away? Hell NO. But is it going to possibly do some good? Absolutely!
So I will walk, and walk and walk. People don’t understand it- maybe I don’t even understand it. My father was so critical- never supportive of anything we did. My brother was quick to point out that if I am doing this to gain the approval of a dead person, I am even more stupid. Well in that respect, maybe I am. I know I will never again here my father’s voice. I know I will never get the chance for him to tell me I did good or it OK or that he is proud of me, but deep down inside, I like to think he is looking down upon me and he is proud. I like to think that while he did not get it at the time, he gets it now and he is proud of who I have become and what I have done. And if nothing else- I do this for me- to make myself proud, to make myself feel as if I have accomplished something in a world that has failed me, or I it.
Wow! Looks like I had a lot more to say than I originally thought. My shortest entry ever turned into a teary eyed evening. On that note, I have mentally drained myself this evening and have to go now. Let’s hope the days ahead are easier ones.
