The Weight of Air

Weight. I've gained weight. I've lost weight. I've lifted weights. I've carried the weight of the world. Felt the weight of lies. I've pushed my weight around. But lifting weight is supposed to build you up. Strengthen you. Make you stronger. But the weight of air? The weight I'm carrying now? It's the heaviest thing I've ever felt. Air. Who would've thought air would be heavy. 

No one can see it. You can't touch it. You can't hold it. Sometimes I cannot breathe its so heavy. Oppressive. Choking. It makes me physically sick sometimes when I am are carrying it and a lot of times I don't even know I am because it has no image. It's just there. Bearing down me. All I can feel is its presence. And how heavy it is. 

I'm not the same person I was before my father died. I will never be the same person again. I've done and gone through most of my life alone. Silently. Like a lost ship out to sea. Hoping I would see a lighthouse somewhere to guide me. Sometimes that light came in the form of family. Or friends. Or a career. Somehow I always found my way. I steered a lot of wrong directions. I followed a lot of paths that weren't really lighthouses at all, but a mirage. A mirage of something that I thought could save me but it was just a figment of my imagination. 

Everyone goes through grief differently. I don't expect anyone to understand mine. I know you can't see the air I am carrying but you can tell I'm different. You can tell something has changed. You can tell I am not the person I used to be. But physically. On the outside. I am the same. That's the trouble with air and the weight of it. No one knows your weight because as humans we cannot fathom something until we can see it. I'm scared of what you would see if you could see it. It would probably scare you. 

Often times I've felt alone in rooms full of people. Often times I've felt alone in my choice of lifestyle. Often times I've felt alone in my feelings. I've never, in 41 years, feel as alone as I do right now. 

There are nights I cry myself to sleep. Praying when I open my eyes that someone, anyone, is there and just holds me. But I open my eyes and every single time I am still alone. 

This isn't just about my fathers passing. It's about all the things I never had while he was alive. A wedding. A child. My own home. It's about so many things. And it's heavy. This air is stifling. 

This is my therapy. It's what I do and how I can express myself. I have no other outlet. I'm sorry that my sadness seeps over into here and other public social areas, but it's where I am at right now. And I'm not sorry about how I feel. It's just reality. I'm not good at pretending. So I don't. You don't have to read my blog or follow me on Facebook. You don't even have to care. I'm simply here to tell you that the weight of air feels like hell. 

I never knew emptiness could weigh so much. When something is empty it's supposed to be lighter. Easier to carry. This is not. I'm barely holding on to it. I'm blessed I can go to work for a few hours a day and set it down because it's truly the only place I can. 

I drove to Sisters today to go have lunch at our uncles. It physically hurt my heart to see "the compound."  There was a time when I would look at my old backyard and think God this place is beautiful. Serene. Calm. Now I see emptiness. A torn up canvas. Tattered and ragged. It hurts on levels I didn't know you could hurt. It's even worse going into the house. And perhaps I am the only one who sees it that way. I can't change what I see. 

I know somewhere, deep down inside an incredibly broken heart that there will days this weight isn't so bad. I don't know when. Or how. I'm not the only one who's lost a loved one. People survive. Life goes on. I just know that right now, at this moment, this is a heavy weight. The heaviest of all. 

The weight of air. 

Stranger in my own home...

When?  When did I become a stranger in my own home? The very home I grew up in? 

The day you died Dad. The minute I saw you and held your cold and lifeless hand. I felt like an intruder. Like I had access to a place I should not have been allowed. And the further we get along with moving your stuff out and preparing for the sale, the worse it gets. 

I have so many memories of the place when it was just that. My home. Not of the place it has recently become. I feel like I'm in a foreign land when I enter it. I feel guilty for taking your things. Or packing them. Or for throwing away your old snowmobile suit. Which lets be honest, you should've done years ago. I feel like I'm mistreating you by doing these things. And yet they have to be done. I get physically sick going in there. I don't feel closer to you by being there. I feel like we are mistreating your memory. 

Brother says you've been to his man cave and left little momentos. It's kind of freaking him out. I'm jealous and he's scared lol! You always did love it there. 

Bella says you woke her from a dead sleep the other night and said hi B Ree with a big smile on your face and disappeared. It made her feel so good and so sad at the same time. 

None of us are the same. Your children I mean. We walk around like we are ghosts ourselves. Shells of people. The insides caving in, the parts people can't see. I run into people. Almost daily. Who say I am sorry to hear about your Dad. And I know they are, but I am just as sorry that they have to say that to me. 

When are you going to come see Brodie and I? Will you ever? 

Do you remember when we were in the kitty cat snowmobile racing circuit? And the day I won? You told me just to put the pedal to the metal and go bare fast. You said I used to tell you to go bare fast when I was little. Do you remember the year of the blizzard and you plowed a racetrack for our baby snowmobiles? Or do you not have those memories now? 

I do. And when I go to the house I try to remember them. Because it's all I have left. And it's all that keeps me from throwing up when I'm there. Because otherwise, I just end up feeling like a stranger in my own home. 

Are you there yet?...

Hi Dad. 

Are you there yet?

Probably seems like a funny question and Sister said she hoped to shout, it had been 21 days. It's been 28 now. 

I suppose we all have different versions of Heaven and when we arrive. And the stops we may make a long the way. I'm just glad that you had been going back to Church. That you felt comforted by that. I will find my way back someday maybe. I've always found God in the places no one thinks to look for him. 

We, I shouldn't say we, several people, I was not one, you know I don't even know how to turn a tractor on, were able to get some of your crops out. It was a beautiful display of how a farming community comes together. Sister, Brother and I can never repay those that helped that day. Or ever explain to someone how much it meant to us. 

You would be so proud of Sister. Although she is grateful you didn't "collect" anything other than hats, she really wishes you would've thrown away the mounds of papers you collected. I imagine there will be several days sorting through those this winter. 

Brother and Donnie are contemplating farming. God Bless them for wanting to. I think they are nuts but if you and Grandpa left anything you left an awful lot of pride to deal with. 

Gram is doing okay. She's had so much loss in her life. Doesn't seem fair. I need to get down and see her. 

I'm fine. I'm still not the Vice President of Blick Art Materials, not even close, but without my job I feel as if I would've never got out of bed for days. It keeps me busy and my mind off of the reality of the situation. The reality that you are gone. Just like that. A breath away. In the moments when I am not at work and I have time to think, I'm angry and I cry a lot. So I thank God every single day for my job. 

Brodie says hi Poppa. If you show up some night to visit us can you make sure he doesn't bark his head off at you? It scares me when he barks at the air. 

Sister and Brother have had dreams about you. I kinda knew you would visit them first. I'm sure you know how hard they are taking this. And I'm sure you knew I would be fine waiting. 

Luckily grief is like the tide. It ebbs and flows. I'm not looking forward to the holidays. One day at a time right now. 

I just wanted to tell you that I love you and hope you are at peace. 

But mostly I just wanted to know...

Are you there yet?

The Dock...

There's a sound that water makes against an aluminum fishing boat, when that boat is tied up to a dock. It's not a sound that is easy to describe but if you've ever sat in one and just listened, its a sound you will never forget. If you lay your head down on the side of the boat it's even more magnified. Almost sounds like a deep cavernous echo. If you add old tires to the sides of the dock, so that they protect the boat against the dock, they will create another sound entirely as the water carries the boat up and down with the incoming waves.  If the water is just right and it's not real wavy it can almost put you to sleep if you just close your eyes and float. 

It's a sound I can never forget. Probably because it will forever remind me of a happier place, during happier times. It's the sound of my childhood. The noise of my teenage years. The place I felt closest to God than in any Church I've ever been to. 

It's not just the place I'm remembering right now but it's the sound I'm longing for. It was the sound of simpler times. Uncomplicated relationships. Slower paces. A freedom from the things that daily reign you in. It's the sound of a smile when you wake. The sound of a screen door slamming and no place to be. 

The sound is forever ingrained in my heart and I can hear it from time to time if I focus long and hard enough. I can close my eyes and feel a myriad of things but most importantly I realize I was feeling anything at all. It, the sound, made me blissfully aware of feeling period. I stopped thinking and just drifted with it. 

It's the most peaceful, tranquil, soothing sound I can conjure in my mind when I need to feel anything at all. 

I will take you back there. So we can hear it together. I will smile and listen as it washes all of the burdens away.  All of the sorrow. The pain. The hurt. The anger. The longing. Removes all of it just by listening. Like a warm embrace, I will close my eyes and let that sound wrap me up and once again, only feel peace. 

The Doc Johnson Special...

I'm having a whiskey tonight. 

Not because I'm trying to forget, as I've done in the past, but because my throat hurts. Bad. Cold, sinus, allergies who knows. The entire town of Knoxville must be sick too. The Dollar General was out of every over the counter allergy and sinus medicines they carry. 

I love whiskey. If you know me you know this. I'm partial to Irish and blended scotch whiskeys. It was not something I ever would've dreamed I would try. 

But I can thank Dad for that...

I had come home from Minnesota one year for Christmas, sicker than hell, through a blizzard, going 20 mph for at least 4 hours. It was one of the longest days of my life. I cried for the entire drive. I think by the time I got to Cedar Rapids I was out of the snow. 

When I arrived home I walked in the front door where mom and Dad were anxiously waiting for me, which was unusual because we rarely used that door. 

I threw my luggage on the floor with myself and cried. Mom put me to bed and called her Dr the next morning. 

When I got home from seeing the Dr she put me in her recliner and told me to rest. They ran some blood work and wouldn't have them back for a few days. In the meantime here's a z pack and some steroids. I was coughing. I couldn't breathe. It was the worst cold of my life. 

My father who adamantly hated taking any kind of meds said, ahhhh bullshit. She needs a Doc Johnson special. Rita, where the hell is the honey? Shortly after he shows up with a steaming hot mug of God knows what and tells me to drink it. Drink it right down. What's in it I say, don't you worry he says. 

Within minutes, my feet were warm and then eventually I couldn't even feel them. I'm laying there moving my head like I'm stoned but instantly stopped coughing.  My mother noticing the change and realizing I'm barely moving my head starts screaming Jesus Jim I think you are killing her! Jesus Rita, she's not coughing anymore is she? Seriously Jim, she can't feel her feet. Good shit isn't it Sis? Giggling the whole time. She's not dying Rita, she's drunk. Now leave her the hell alone and enjoy the peace and quiet. She's been hacking since she got out of her damn truck. 

I never learned what all the Doc Johnson special contained except whiskey. 

But I have a shot or a couple drinks every time my throat hurts. And tonight...tonight I just wish he would make me a Doc Johnson special. 

The Gambler

Unfortunately I have had to do a few of these in my life. Grama Rosie, Angie, Molly and Grandpa Cliff, I pray you are resting in peace.  I miss you every day.

Today however, was not expected.  Not planned.  Not even fathomed.  The only thing I have ever learned about life is that it goes on.  I do not know how it does or why, but it does.

This week has been the most surreal few days of my life.  This is not supposed to be happening.  I shouldn’t be standing here doing this.

Dad.  You bought me my first convertible.  It was red.  And I had to pedal it.  But it was mine.  You took us to Minnesota, to the place you went as a little boy, and gave us all some of the best years of our lives.  It is ok that Dee Dee does not remember a lot of them.  We will help her remember.  You refused to teach me how to drive a boat, so I went out one day while you were napping at the Cabin and taught myself.

You were one of the proudest men I had ever known.  The only other man I knew that was that proud was your father.  Must be where you learned it.  As much as you and Grandpa put Grandma Louise through, she fiercely loved and supported you both, in every endeavor you asked her to go through.  You were Grandmas Rock.  She depended on you, probably more than any of us will ever know, and I do not know Dad, how we will get her through this, with Joyce’s help we will.  We just have to.  She has been witness to more heartache than I can fathom, and this is something we never ever expected her to have to do.

To say you were fiercely proud of Dee Dee, Jarod and I is not an adequate description. You were strongly against many decisions we all made, and you were very verbal about it.  I know there were times you thought we were all nuts and you tried to tell us there would be consequences to all of these decisions, but whatever they were, you were there to dig us out when we failed.  I don’t know how many times you had to get Jarod dug out of a tough spot.  Mostly his truck in the river somewhere.  But you did it.  You were the one who put the fear of God in Dalton’s eyes where 4-wheelers were concerned; I still don’t think he is fond of them.  You were worried sick about Kolbie’s free spirit and constantly on Jarod and Kari aboutwhere she may roam without a care in the world, but if you remember when she was very little, and was left off the bus at her house to a locked house, for whatever reason we will never know, she took off to your house, because she knew Poppa would be there, Poppa was always there. You weren’t crazy about Dee and David getting the kids involved in showing livestock, especially at such a young age, but you supported every second of them doing so.  I thought when Bella started driving from her house to your house between the ponds, that would cause your heart to stop, but it didn’t and in some ways you were proud of her for being so obstinate and stubborn like yourself.  The level of proud you felt for Ethan when his baseball team went to state was somewhere past Cloud 9.

Dee Dee knows you were her biggest fan.  In her sports when she was younger and even now. She was yours too-who else wears a shirt around that says, “My Daddy Rocks”.  Jarod may never know how proud of him you were at the life he has built for himself and his family.  You were the only person in my life who told me not to buy a bar, and yet you were there every single day and promoted my business like it was your own. You were my favorite and least favorite customer.  You did a lot of complaining.  

Unfortunately I had to witness a tremendous amount of your heartaches as well.  Despite the feelings that you carried around, the animosity you felt, take away all of those things and the trying years, you and Mom created three wonderful children, who carry parts of you every single day with us.  We are all stubborn.  We are all bull headed.  We are all proud.  We are more like you than we would even probably like to admit.

I am so mad at you right now.  Mad because you are gone.  And if you were here I would yell at you.  When I was worried about you it really pissed you off that I made us all sit down and have meetings with you to discuss it, but I don’t know where I would be having not done that.  Maybe you did things to get us together.  

I think you knew you weren’t well.  I think we knew you weren’t well.  I know none of us including yourself knew just how unwell you were.  I am so sorry you were sad.  I am so sorry that anyone hurt you.  I am so sad that we stand here today knowing you died from a broken heart.  And I would do anything in this world to have fixed that for you.  

As angry as I am right now at God for taking you, we couldn’t have asked for him to do it more peacefully.  And I pray you went to sleep and had the most wonderful dream ever.

You touched so many lives it is not even funny.  You allowed so many people into your life, on your property, and in our lives.  You were so proud of your farm.  Proud that is was such a fun place for so many people.  You gave a gift to people that I hope they never forget because very few people in this world did such a thing and never asked foranything in return.  I pray they never forget your generosity.  I will never understand why you agreed we should cancel the River Ride this year but I am glad you did.  I think somehow you knew.  All I can say for certain is that I hope God drives a Polaris.  And I hope he takes you on a fantastic ride.  And I hope he goes forwards and backwards.  And I hope he stopssmiles at you and says Any Questions?

You were a jerk.  You were often times not nice.  But you were my Dad.  And I would give anything in the world to have you call me and tell me one of your 4 hour jokes.  Or be at the Legion meeting my new friends and telling them I was the Vice President of Blick Art Materials.

You have a legacy.  You have left a legacy.  The Maquon Fire Department will never forget you.  The village of Maquon will never forget you.  Anyone who ever rides a 4 wheeler again, will never forget you.  

Ethan, Isabella, Dalton, Kolbie and Brodie.  He loved you all so much.  He was so very proud of you all and spoke of you with such pride in his heart.

Dee Dee and Jarod, I am sorry for what you had to find.  I pray for the strength for all of us to get through these next few months.  But mostly I pray we stay fiercely loyal to one another.  I know that he would want that.  He didn’t have to pull this stunt to make sure that happened, but I know he would want that.

The very last thing you said to me was I love you sissy, have a safe trip.  I love you too Dad.  May you finally rest in peace.

Before you I was nothing.  Without you I feel nothing.  But because of half of you, I am something.  

Now every Gambler knows that the secret to survivin’ 
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep
Cause ev’ry hands a winner and every hands a loser, 

And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep...

What if this break doesn't heal?...

A dear friend, who thinks more of me than I feel I deserve wrote this beautiful post to me today. 

It was heartfelt and genuine. And very deeply appreciated. And...had great timing. This isn't a post about how I don't see myself as others see me or for a pat on the back. It's about a conversation that came earlier this evening. 

I had called my mom to "check in" because my days are running into themselves. Sometimes head on. Anyway Mom said wasn't that awful nice what your friend said on Facebook today? I said yes, it was I thanked her. It meant a lot to me. Especially right now. And she said, you don't have any idea how many people think you are a hero or who you inspire. I wish you did. You have to pull through this and get on inspiring people. Post happy things on Facebook, people really do count on you. I wish you knew how many people loved you. And even though I know exactly what she meant, this is what I felt...

What if everyone forgets him? What if they forget he's gone? What if they don't know that just because I appear ok, that on the inside I'm a broken little girl?  I may not look sad but I am damn sad. Life didn't stop that day. No matter how badly I wanted it to. I drove to his house that day. Faster than I've ever driven anywhere. Only once thinking I better slow down or I will kill myself. I drove there thinking Sister was lying even though the only two words I ever heard when she called were "Dad's gone."  I thought I would pull up and she would say he was fine. False alarm. I wasn't expecting what I found. He was really gone. We had lost our Dad. 

You lose games. You lose car keys. You lose your wallet or important documents. You lose weight. You lose your sense of direction. You also can find those things again. And someday I suppose I will find him. But that doesn't make this easier. 

I'm trying Mom. I wish you could see me at work. I try to make people laugh. I try not to let a soul see the pain and confusion. I pour myself into work because it's all I have and thank God I have it. I don't think I would've gotten out of bed for days. I poured myself into a benefit that I was pretty confident I couldn't pull off. With help I did. A lot of help. But besides the pictures I don't remember being there. 

I am sorry for the downer posts. I do know people need to laugh and smile and hear me and Sisters bantering. Or some random question of the day. But I'm just not ready yet. Sadly Facebook gives a venue to express our emotions. Currently mine are sad. 

I'm scared. I'm scared I'm not crying enough. I'm scared we are being pushed to make decisions we aren't ready to. I'm scared people are going to forget he existed. I'm scared Sister is going to crash and fall in a heap. I'm scared that Brothers job requires he be so far from home. Maybe that will help him cope. I'm scared I'm so focused on work that I myself forget my father just died. I'm scared we aren't doing what he would've wanted. I'm just so damn scared. 

I wish there was a grief manual. Unfortunately we all go through it differently. And at different speeds. I wish I knew the good days will be good and when to expect the bad ones. I wish I knew God wanted him so soon. 

I do know I inspire people. I get told often. I don't get it, but I know it. My writing gets complimented so often, but I don't get it. I just write what I feel. I know everyone has "lost" someone they loved. And I know a piece of them died when it happened. 

What I don't know is if I will ever feel like me again. They only other time I've felt this way is after my last surgery and my iron bottomed out. I felt uncomfortable in my skin. I didn't feel like me. It's been a very long time since I've been uncomfortable in my skin. It's foreign. It doesn't feel normal to me. Right now I don't have a clue who I am. But I'm sure trying to find her again. Some days I just can't. And I just have to be ok with that. She may not come back for awhile. I hope and pray she does. 

I'm scared. I'm scared that if I act happy when I'm not really happy at all that everyone will forget him. I don't want him to be forgotten. 

I've been hurt so many times by so many things. And eventually those hurts scarred over. I can still feel them, but they have healed. What if this break doesn't heal?

Our Father...Who Art in Heaven...

Our Father who art in Heaven...

you have my Dad. 

Did he cry when we cleaned out the house? Is he ok? A lot of it he wanted out anyway. A long time ago. And that's ok. We all found treasures. Can you tell him something for me?

Dee Dee, Jarod and I are dealing with this in our own way. One thing we are NOT doing is fighting. Over anything. Thank you Dad. Maybe you knew that each part of your life inspired, for lack of a better word, each if us differently. 

There are things we come across that one of us definitely want, and the other two are ok with that. Thank you. 

My days go like this. One day I cry. Hard. And at everything. And one day I'm happy to be alive. It's a roller coaster for sure. 

You would be so proud of Dee Dee. She is now my rock. I thought we lost her a year ago Mothers Day. David breathed life back into her and there was a reason. I remember the day that happened. You ran. You screamed. You drove faster than I've ever seen you drive. I took Brodie because I thought she fell. And everyone was like why'd you bring him?  And I was mad because when I fell you yelled at me. And I honestly couldn't get up. I was mad you woke me at 4:45am to tell me she fell. You did not tell me she stopped breathing.  It was not her time. David has been amazing. So supportive. So helpful. 

Your grand kids miss you. Terrible. Bella and Ethan remember things we forgot. Maybe that's how life works. There are people there to remind you. 

You would be so proud of Jarod. He's been a rock too. We are all so lost Dad. 

I don't want to collect anything. Is that bad? Sadly. Besides my siblings I don't have anything anyone wants. I have no one to share a thing with. Brodie. He's all I have that matters to me. 

Tonight we went to Gayla's for the girls night out benefit for St. Jude. Aunt Joyce drove us. It was good to see her outside of this madness. We had fun Dad. We laughed. We smiled. I don't remember feeling capable of doing any of those things. 

And then tomorrow it's all business again. One day we grieve. One day we pack. One day we have to deal with the future. I don't want to do any of it. I want to embrace every second. I don't want to plan. Or think. Or feel. I want you to tell me what to do. 

Everyone said I can't believe you came back to work that following Monday. You know why? I did? You would've told me to. You were so proud Blick hired me. I am proud too. It was a huge part of Grams life. I'm not going to be the VP. Ever. But I love my job. They've been so good to me Dad. They like me. I love them. 

I try to call you. Daily. It's dumb because I hated talking on the phone with you. You told too many stories. Too long. But my God I miss them. 

My faith was shattered when Gram Rosie died. Your passing has restored it. I don't know how. Or in exactly what way yet.  But I believe again. I will find my way. 

Our Father. Who Art in Heaven...

Please tell my Dad I love him. 

Dear Dad...

Where did you go? 

Why did you go? 

Why did you go when you went?

Why did it happen like that?

Why was it so sudden?

When will I see you again?

How will Dee Dee handle all this? Or Jarod? We are all three so different in our grieving processes. 

Where are you?

Did it hurt?

Did you know and not tell us?

Did you even want a funeral? Or cremated? 

Did you want your suspenders on?

How are we supposed to take care of Grandma? 

Can you see Angie? Gramma Rosie? Molly? Grandpa Cliff? Is he still fighting with Uncle Bob?

Is it pretty where you are?

Are you trolling for walleye?

Why didn't you ever teach me how to drive a tractor? 

Was it because I fell off the combine when I was 5?

Are you happy now? 

Have you found peace?

Why did you ask pastor for a bible a few weeks ago? 

WHERE ARE YOU?

Why don't you answer your phone when I call?

Why did I delete all your goofy voice messages?

Why was I the one who had to watch you go through so much pain when mom left and when that woman you thought you loved broke your heart? 

Why did I have to watch a grown man cry over love?

Are you still lonely?

Why was I so angry at you for crashing my new hangout? When all along you knew you wouldn't be crashing it for very long?

Why did you go to Medora that weekend to see all your friends one last time?

Do you know how many people showed up to pay their respects? More than I know you ever dreamt would?

How did you touch so many lives? 

Have I touched that many lives?

Will my heart ever beat correctly again?

Will the pain ever stop?

Will I see you in my dreams? 

Why did you collect so many hats?

Will I ever be myself again?

How do I explain to Brodie that Papa is gone? 

Why did you leave me?

DAD????? 

I love you.