Tuesday, September 23, 2014

The First Year is Behind Me...


Hi Dad, 

It’s me. I wonder if you can get letters in heaven. I cannot believe that it has already been a year. Your passing was so suddentraumatic and earth shattering and most of the time I still cannot even believe that you are gone. Just last summer I was giving you hell for wearing those ridiculous muscle shirts that large men should not wear and now I would give anything to see you in one of those again. I hope Jesus doesn’t mind them because you really did love them. 


We speak of you often, like pretty much every day at some point or another. At least now the talk mostly generates laughter.  It was tough at first. I was very angry and felt incredibly cheated, but I do believe that there is good in this world and I refuse to let this experience harden me any more than it already has


You left me with some pretty lousy things to take care of and clean up and sadly I am STILL working on them with still no light at the end of the tunnel. My situation could be summed up in a song by the Band Perry…All I want to be is “Done”. You preached keep good records and document everything. You would be so proud of me because I have done just that. Almost everything and every conversation word for word. Call it “Big Brother” or just a “Wise Woman”, but unfortunately it’s just been a harsh realitySticks and stones may break bones-but words break hearts. Death brings out the worst in some people, but you already knew that and attempted to give me a heads up to this. I have not even been too happy with myself on a couple of occasions. 


You have probably noticed that I put our house up for sale. I have been back and forth since the day you died on whether or not I could stay there without you. I mean it is really hard. If I go left out of my driveway I have to go by your house where other people live now. If I go right out of the driveway I have to see the land you worked for others for your entire life. I had finally gotten to a good place in my heart and decided to stay. Everyone was relieved by this decision. The back and forth and house hunting was wearing us all out. I had contractors & electricians giving me some quotes on making some cosmetic changes, new carpet, new tile, etc. We were even going to put up a small shed to store all of our crap so I could regain my garage again for actual vehicles, but sadly that all fell through for now, but you know all about that too. So I told David and the kids that I was leaving with or without them. So for now my house is for sale and if I get it sold why then great, I can move on to new chapters in my life...a fresh start so to speak. If I don’t well then I am perfectly okay with that too because I love my house and that has been the hardest part…leaving it. 


I hope you are helping with the harvest in heaven. I know that it was one of your very favorite times of the year-the rewards of your labor. Harvest season is beautiful here so I can only imagine what it must be like there.  The kids are good, crazy busy in school with tons of homework, but good. You know how I hate back to school season, this year is no exception. I miss them not being home all of the time. They are growing up way too fast! Please keep an eye on them as everyone needs a guardian angel. 


I miss you so much sometimes that I can hardly breathe, but I will be okay! I promise


Love you Dad, 

Dee


I walked straight through hell with a smile…because that’s just what I do…smile 


September 23, 2014. One year later. The date reads the same, except for a difference of only one number; but, what a difference that one number can make. If that four were a three, I would be back there, on that day; but, instead I am here, where everything has changed, especially me. 


Death is totally in the numbers. It was the most beautiful warm and sunny Monday morning of the 9th month. The time on the clock was 9:30 a.m. My Grandma Louise called me at work to see if I had talked to my dad. I had not talked to him since Friday morning. It had been days. I was the only one nearby with a key to his house so I told her that I would run home on my lunch hour, pick her up and we could go check the house. She said that his truck was home but that he wasn’t answering his phone and she was most concerned because he hadn’t come over on Sunday morning for coffee like he always did every week unless he was out of town. After I hung up the phone the hairs on my arms stood straight up. I knew immediately that I needed to go check the house right away and that it couldn’t wait until noonMy heart was racing and my body was shaking. I had no idea what I was about to find, but somehow I already knew it was not going to be good. 


I was able to reach my brother to meet me at the house. I picked Grandma up as promised before I went to Dad’s house. I still have no idea why I did that other than I had told her that I would. The three of us found him looking like he was resting comfortably in his bed. He had passed away in his sleep, twonights before. After frantically shaking him and begging him to wake up I ran to the kitchen and immediately called 9-1-1, I really don’t know why. It was very clearly too late. The operator asked how old is your father66When was your father last seen alive: I don’t know…my brother saw him nights ago and he was fine. Maam Are you alone? Yes, very, but no…my brother and grandma are here with me. 


From there the numbers of hours turn into the number of the days that slip into a count of the weeks, which amount to the passing of months – starting at a crawl but before you know it, fly by at a run. And pretty soon you arrive at a year-365 days. Before too long, not having a father anymore is no longer my first thought upon waking or the last thing I think about before falling asleep at night. It becomes, perhaps, my second or third thought of the day, until it hits me mid-morning or even mid-afternoon. Then, on some months, the 23rd comes and goes and I realize later; oh my, it was ten months ago yesterday, wasn’t it?


As I embarked on the almost a year point, I began to feel a strange new sadness about leaving this horrifically dark year behind; because, as much as I am ready to begin anew and trust me I am, I feel as though that switch in year means I have to permanently leave my Dad and everything he represented behind. Sometimes it feels like he just died yesterday. Sometimes it feels like he died in another lifetime. I keep hearing a line from the Reba McEntire song, The Greatest Man I Never Knew, “The man I thought would never die has been dead almost a year.”  I really, really miss him. There are some days that I think of him and smile or laugh. And then there are the other days where I am consumed with sadness and frustration about why this happened to us. I hope that time will replace most of the other days with smiles and laughter. He would want it that way. My dad was a truly remarkable man. The problem is that I didn’t fully appreciate that until he was gone. To me, he was just Dad. Dad the farmer. Dad the School Board President. Dad the Firefighter. Dad the guy I thought was super strict with me while growing up. Sometimes even Dad the jackass. We had very similar personalities and often butted heads, but at the end of the day he thought I was all it. It’s funny how you don’t realize how important someone is until they are no longer there. I don’t believe that I ever disrespected him, but I am positive I never showed him all the respect that he deserved. My dad was the proud, brag about your kids and grandkids type. Even loved his furry grandkids and talked about them as if they were human. My dad lived and loved with uncompromising morals. He never made a million dollars. He never went to college. He wasn’t famous, but he touched the people around him. People loved him. He was honest and fair. Another line from the same song, “Everything he gave to us took all he had.” That describes my dad. He gave us all he had, even in death, his time, his money, his knowledge, his determination, his stubbornness, and his strong spirit. I would not be who I am today without him and neither would my children and one day their children and so on. Dad’s influence will live on for generations to come…Buckman Strong! I am thrilled that we lived so close to both of our parents and grandparents while my kids were growing up. My kids are so blessed with fantastic memories of all of their grandparents. They are truly lucky kids!


The pain that came after his death, the frustration, the unique situations of his estate, the loss of hope and screaming at God for doing this to us, that wasn’t the hardest part. That was the normal part, the grief. I learned of things which I wish I had lived the rest of my life never knowing. The hardest part about death…is the part that lies in losing the ones who stayed. Now believe it or not, my dad gave me fair warning just 3 short months before he died of what was to come. I just didn’t understand what he meant when he said it nor the magnitude it would have on my life. He tried to prepare me; I was just completely naïve to it and who ever wants to talk about those things. Like I said, I thought that my dad would never die, but somehow though he knew it was coming. That summer he had serviced all of his tractors and left the manuals in the seats. He made the rounds visiting people, some that he had not seen since shortly after high school or in the service. After the visitation we chuckled because so many came through the line telling us that they had just recently seen our dad. We decided that he must have been on tour during his final months. 


So today, one year after the most terrible thing that happened in my life, I realize my dad is the lucky one and is at peace. Is he in a better place? How would I know, I have never been there and for goodness sake QUIT saying that when going through a receiving line at a visitation. In my opinion the better place would be right here with me in my loving arms. Those who got to stay…I lost them. I can’t find where they’ve gone. Including myself. I struggle about not knowing who my family became or maybe who they never were. Some turned out to be complete strangers to me, and I found myself feeling completely alone, so I just built walls and see myself more distant from the ones I love than ever. There was pressure to move on and make major decisions within hours of my dad’s death…this has led to deep regret. 


I don’t think I will ever get that image of his lifeless body out of my head, ever. Nor will I forget my husband and others carrying out his body bag. I do know that God had a plan and I never would have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes so it just had to be that way. The very worst part of his death is that my dad died with a very broken heart. I often say that is exactly what he died from. 


Death is not something that you “get over.” The truth is I still hurt. It’s not a constant, overwhelming, unbearable hurt, but the little things, within which grief hides, that hit me when I least expect it. Unfortunately I will always carry my grief with me. It is made of permanent loss, of some lousy lessons, of some forced decisions, of old memories, and of new memories without my dad. I have never experienced such a dark and constant storm in my entire life-especially one that affects every single bit of who I am. No one can be prepared for a major death and however badly you think it is going to hurt, it is going to feel a million times worse.  Time cannot fix everything. Time just allows you to find a new normal. I am not getting over this, not now, not ever…I am just getting used to it. I don’t feel that time has really healed anything, for me it has simply just passed by. The biggest thing I have learned through this though is that the people I thought would be there and have my back didn’t and the people I never expected became my biggest supporters and for as long as I live I will never forget that!


In closing, I don’t have any idea why, but the song Leader of the Band by Dan Fogelberg, makes me cry my eyes out every time I hear it. My Dad was a lot of things but never a musician. I guess we could call him the leader of our family though and I am not sure any of us knew that he was the glue holding it together all along. “The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old, but his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul. My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man, I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band, I am a living legacy to the leader of the band.”