I’m all out of cheerfulness.

I got home yesterday at about 3pm, put on my pjs, put a movie in the DVD player, cuddled with the puppers, and took a nap. Aside from waking up yesterday to eat dinner (which Mike very sweetly made) I napped on and off for the rest of the night before finally going to bed.

In part I was body tired, but mostly I just didn’t want to think about the weekend anymore. I didn’t want to process, I didn’t want to cry, I didn’t want to feel.

This weekend was hard. Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and although it was the right thing to do, and although I am unbelievably grateful that I was able to spend some quality time with my dad, I am so sad and so heart sick that I don’t even know where to begin to talk about it.

“Damn it kid, we sure had a lot of fun.”

I heard that a lot this weekend. I spent two days reliving my childhood – reminiscing with my dad about all the stuff we did when I was a kid: the camping trips we took, the times we spent up at the ranch with the horses, the trips to Iowa to visit his family, the times we slept out in our camper (always when it rained), the gardens we planted, all the times we fed the ducks near our apartment, the books we read together.

It was sweet and it was heartbreaking. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed THAT dad. The dad who cut out my paper dolls with his pocket knife and taught me how to shoot a rifle. The dad who read Nancy Drew books to me when I was too little to read them myself and who taught me how to ride a horse. The dad who knew the definition to every word I didn’t and took me to the County Fair every year.

According to everyone, my dad looks better now than he has for the last four years. And he’s got a strong will to live (my dad says this is both stubbornness and plain orneriness). After his stroke, his doctor asked him about disconnecting him from life support, and told him that he’d be dead by the following morning. My dad’s response was typical of him: “Well, if you say so, doc. I’m not afraid to die, but I’m just not ready yet.” Needless to say, my dad has shocked everyone, including his family, by how well he’s doing. He talked this weekend of wanting to go camping again, of wanting to take trips with his dog (a good buddy of his has taken ownership of Chance, my dad’s dog, because of course, my dad’s WIFE can’t be bothered), of wanting to carve wood again.

The likelihood though, is that he’ll never do those things again. Right now, we just need to focus on rehabilitating his right arm so that he can do things like feed himself, dress himself, and turn the pages of a book again. If he can rehabilitate that arm, then there’s the possibility that he can go home again. If he can’t, well. We’re just not going to set that as an option.

Right now, my dad is in the VA hospital about 4 hours from most of his family and friends. I understand that it’s a long drive for them, but my dad has been in the hospital for almost four weeks, and this weekend was the first time he has had visitors. Two of my uncles drove down on Saturday to see both me and dad, and they were the first family to make the drive.

I cannot tell you how much that infuriates me. I expected more of them, with all of their talk about family, and all the implications that I’ve been a bad, uncaring daughter. All of the clothes that my dad has been wearing are from the VA free store – his wife has only sent him his own clothes, wallet, and glasses last week (and they had not arrived when I was visiting). The fact that my dad’s wife is content to allow him to live like a pauper in the hospital is unacceptable to me, and I will not allow that to continue.

My dad will likely be in that hospital for the foreseeable future, and when I arrived, there was virtually nothing in his room that makes it seem like he is a man who is cared about. I am as guilty in this as anyone, but I will be damned if I let it stay that way. I bought dad a little TV/DVD player so he can listen to CDs, watch movies, or listen to books on CD. Even though someone else will have to get the movies playing, it’s a little something to help him pass the time. I’m going to order a plant to help brighten the room (my dad has a green thumb which I did not inherit), and of course I’m going to knit for him. Dad was tickled to find out that I spin and knit, and expressed interest in some hand knit socks, so I’ll be diving into the stash to see what I have that will fit the bill. I’d also like to knit a blanket for him, but I’m afraid that will take too long, and I’ve thought about making a quilt for him, but I’m such a novice that I have no idea how long that will take. But you can be damn sure that there will be knitting and that I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that my dad knows he is loved and thought about often.

So, yeah, right now, I’m all out of cheerfulness.

ETA: Maryse has kindly offered to organize a square drive for those folks who have so generously offered to contribute squares for a blanket for my dad. You can read Maryse's post about it here. Basically, we're hoping for 8" blocked squares, knit or crocheted, in a machine washable yarn. If you'd like to particpate, please let me or Maryse know, and when your square is ready, send one of us an email and we'll send you my address. I can't even begin to express how much this means to me, and how tickled I know my dad will be. Once more, I am just floored by the support of this community. You're all just the best.

Comments

[Danielle]

Sounds like a tough visit, but an important one for you. Best wishes to you and your dad as you try to find peace in your lives.

[maryse]

hey girlie. i think we can come up with something for the blanket.

i feel the need to make some squares. what do you think? i think we can get a few others to make some squares too. i'll post it on the blog.

also, your father's wife is a *unt.

[Manise]

Out of cheerfulness? Understandably so.

Would knitting squares and sending them to you to get a blanket done help? I'd be more than glad to help and I'm sure others would be too. Just say. K?

[Kate]

Maryse is right. I'll be happy to make a square! Just give me the word and I'll be knitting.

On a personal note. I'm not close at all with my dad (my parents divorced and dad basically disappeared when I was 2)and I struggle with this everyday. We can't make up for lost time but we can work on the future and the small things you have done are a great way to show your love. You've lost time with your dad but not love. Knitting a square would not only help your dad but would make me feel connected to my dad as well. I'm happy to help!!!!!!!!!!

[Debbie]

It sounds like you and your dad really reconnected. Despite the crappy circumstances, is a great thing! It's not too late to be there for him, even if you aren't *right* there with him.

Sounds like it was a trying weekend, but I'm glad that you're glad you did it.

And yeah, if there's one thing we can do, it's make with the squares. :)

[Chris]

*hug* I'm with Maryse on your dad's wife. Sheesh! I'll put up the bat signal tomorrow, too.

[Phoebe]

You may be out of cheerfulness, but you are blessed with love and compassion and with the character it takes to span the divide between you and your father. How wise you are to take advantage of this opportunity.

I, too, would be delighted to make a square. I miss my father deeply and would love to channel that into doing something, however, small for your father.

I pray you both will heal.

[Kellee]

Oh jesus h youknowwho honey. I am so, so, so sorry. What you're doing, what you've just done is remarkably hard, and I'm extremely proud of you for not killng anyone. Sometimes being a grown up sucks ass. Having been in a similar place, I'd give ANYTHING to be able to keep you from going through this. Barring that, I can totally knit a square, or any damned thing else you, or he, needs.

[Jenny]

Oh Elisa, my heart is really out for you. I would be happy to knit a square to make your dad all cozy and warm with knitterly love.

[Carolyn Bahm]

I'm so, so sorry for the pain you're in and for your dad's poor health. And I'm astonished at how your dad's wife has responded (or, rather, how she hasn't responded) to his hospital stay. I'll be watching your blog, hoping to hear good news. Best -- Carolyn

[kate]

So heartwrenching.

I have just realised that I've gone through a mini-mourning for my dad. Not to belittle the horrible pain of having an actually ill-or-dying parent - my father is alive and kicking. but... he is not 'that dad' anymore.

He's getting old, not physically, not really mentally. but you can see the shift from 'that dad'. And I must say, I miss the dad of my childhood. He's not as engaged, not as with us, I suppose. And I do miss him. Much more than I feel like I should. But the fact that I have actually upset myself so much that I'm now in tears is a pretty good sign that I'm not making this up!

I suppose the way I'd like to tie this together - people change. People leave us. Even, sometimes, when they're still here. And sometimes they don't leave us, even though they're gone.

Sounds like you're dad will be sticking around for a fair while, even when he has to leave.

[Kathode Ray Tube]

Wow, what a rewarding and draining weekend, all at once. My heart goes out to you -- it's hard doing all this from a distance and trying to figure out the relationship after all this time. But sounds like you two connected well.

[claudia]

Dude, I'm very proud of you.

[Wanda]

Is some type of acrylic yarn ok for the blanket? I don't know that I have anything washable. Oh, wait, I can get some Encore. Cool, I'll get a square done this weekend, definitely sweetheart. Just a hard time you've had to go through.

I wish I'd known you were coming through Denver, you could have said hello. Let me know if you swing through again. You're in my prayers.

((((BIG HUGS))) to you.

[rita]

It sounds like you're glad you did this even though it hurt like a motherf#cker. Therefore, I'm glad for you. And proud of you; it couldn't have been easy.

Just tell me what color square you want, or in the ballpark, or I'll just dig out something cheerful or dignified or at least washable!

[Carole]

It's a lot to process, I'm sure. I think you're heading in the right direction with all of this. And I'll knit a square, of course.

[Bridget]

I'll make a couple of squares for your dad. Hang in there.

[Beth S.]

You've had so much stress this year, I wish the universe would cut you a break. :-( I'm so sorry to hear about your dad's situation, and you can absolutely count on me for a square.

[Sara]

I'm totally in for making some squares...

I can see he's an outdoors lover. Fishing? Hunting? If you'd like I can see if there are any neat books or magazines around here... it will be Maine stuff, but still might be entertaining for him. Just say the word and I'll start looking!

[Rachael]

A hug and kiss and a square your way. You are a good daughter, my dear. I would like to give that wife a pinch. She gives us other wives a bad name, eh? xo

[thursday]

I wish everyone could have a daughter like you. I'm sorry that your dad's relatives haven't stepped up to the plate, like you surely have done. Good luck and strength in the coming weeks!

[juno]

Oh honey. I'm so behind I just read all this today - what do you need? I wish I could hug you.....

[Debbie]

Please email me. I have been through something similar with both parents -- 17 years ago with me beloved dad and just 4 years ago with my mom. If you want to just vent, I am more than happy to listen and tell you what helped me.
God bless...
Debbie

[Julie]

You are a good daughter! I will definitely knit a square for your Dad's blanket.

[Marsha]

Count me in Elisa! They may not be fancy, but they sure will keep him warm. Let us know when you need them by too.