It's Not Goodbye

I wrote the following piece for Daddy's funeral. Somehow, I managed to defy the odds and get through the whole thing myself, although I'll admit I didn't look up and simply read what I'd written. My brothers also managed to play their guitars and sing. I am SO proud of them. Daddy would've absolutely loved it. He was so proud of them learning to play the guitar and enjoyed every time he got to hear them play. He would've had tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face listening to them that day. It was nothing short of amazing. I followed shortly after with this:

How do you put into words how you feel about the first man to ever hold your heart? My friend, my hero, my teacher, my guide, my fixer-of-all-things...my daddy. He held my hand, taught me to ride a bike, taught me to drive, taught me how to change my oil and change a tire. He encouraged me to try new things, to stand on my own two feet, to believe in myself, to never give up. He showed me the beauty in God's creation and convinced me that there is value and worth in every human being. He taught me to live life to the fullest and to take advantage of every moment I have left on this earth. He told me he loved me, told me I was beautiful, told me I was his princess.  And he always reminded me to share the love of Jesus with everyone I meet and to keep a smile on my face. 

Many things could be said about my daddy, about his hard-headedness, his love for chatting about Jesus and politics for hours on end. And while I may not remember all of you when I see you today, chances are I could tell you a story about each of you. Daddy loved to tell stories. But of all the things I could say about my dad, of all the things I could leave you with to remember him by, I think the most important thing was that he was passionate. He knew what he believed and he wasn't afraid to share it with anyone who would listen. How many of us truly live life with passion and conviction? I can only hope I can be half as passionate in the time I have left as my daddy was. 

I am so very grateful for the last 4 1/2 years we had, knowing that his time was limited. We were forced to focus on the important rather than the trivial and to embrace every moment we had together. I am also grateful that God granted Daddy his last wish, which was to go peacefully, in his sleep, just like his Uncle Ira had done. 

While my heart is utterly broken and there will forever be a part of me missing; while right now I don't know how I'll get through tomorrow, let alone the rest of my life without him, I have peace in knowing I will see him again in heaven because he gave his heart to Jesus. I love you, Daddy, more than words can say. This is not "goodbye", just "see ya later".

For the last week, I've had so many emotions. Hurt, despair, anger, frustration, confusion, pain. Now I'm simply numb. I seem, at this point, to be past the ugly cry and the weepiness. Now I find myself trying to remember that he's truly gone, reminding myself that he really won't be calling or texting or emailing soon. I often catch myself lost in deep thought, memories of times with Daddy flooding my mind. I can feel his hugs, feel the roughness of his weathered skin as he holds my hand, hear his voice as he says, "Hiiii, baby!" when we see each other after a few weeks apart. I keep thinking that someone has made a mistake and I'm going to wake up soon.  It just seems so unreal.  So I have to remind myself that it is, in fact, very real.

His service was unbelievably beautiful. From the video of pictures that told his life story, set on a background of music he loved, to the many things people shared, to my brothers singing. Even the gut-wrenching ugly cry that came, once again, as the Air Force went through the Military Honors portion of his graveside service and presented me with his flag...it was utterly beautiful and demonstrated, not a perfect life, but a life made perfect by the love of a redeeming God.

And he left a video. Back in January he'd made an hour long video of his life story. An HOUR long. 60 full minutes we have of watching our Dad, of hearing his voice. Video that will forever keep him alive, keep him present, both for us and for our children as we grieve his loss. I have no doubt it will be a huge comfort in those days and hours and moments when we are missing him terribly. I am SO thankful he did that. SO incredibly thankful.

I've been avoiding the radio for the last week. Music is a huge part of my life. It reaches the depths of who I am and allows me to bear my soul. But since daddy died, I think I've been on emotion overload and therefore trying to avoid anything that would bring more emotion to the surface. Two days ago, though, I allowed myself to to flip through the channels, hoping that nothing too deep would be playing. I realized a new Carrie Underwood song was playing, so I turned it up. It ended up being just what I needed to hear. It was refreshing and comforting to my hurting heart and there was so much truth in the words she sang. I believe it will be a song I listen to for years to come. It's called "See You Again".

Said goodbye,
Turned around and you were gone, gone, gone...
Faded into the setting sun,
Slipped away.
But I won't cry 'cause I know,
I'll never be lonely,
For you are the stars to me,
You are the light I follow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
I can hear those echos in the wind at night
Calling me in time, back to you.
In a place far away where the water meets the sky,
The thought of it makes me smile.
You were my tomorrow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Sometimes I feel my heart is breaking...
But I stay strong and I hold on
Cause I know...
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, yeah yea
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Til I see you again.
Said goodbye, turned around and you were gone, gone, gone.

Til I see you again, Daddy...

4 and a Half Years Ago...

I'm re-posting the following from Feb. 17, my Daddy's birthday this year.  Many of you already know I lost my daddy a week ago Sunday. It's been a long, hard week, but we are getting through it one day at a time. Tomorrow I will share what I said at his funeral on Thursday.

**WARNING** Extremely emotional post to follow.

4 1/2 years ago, in October, I was excitedly expecting the birth of my first daughter in a matter of months. I was working part time at a preschool that I loved and my life was simply amazing. I had turned 30 the year before and had received THE BEST birthday present ever. My daddy had told me a few weeks after my birthday that he had quit smoking a month earlier. He had smoked for over 50 years, people. This was a BIG DEAL. And it had been one of my heart's deepest desires, one of my most fervent prayers, the hope of a little girl for her daddy to give up his life-threatening bad habit. Finally, it had happened, and so unexpectedly.

So I got a call in October a year later (back to 4 1/2 years ago) from my dad late one night. Through tears, more for my sake than his own fear, my daddy told me he'd thought he had pneumonia so he went to the doctor. He walked away from an ER visit with the assumption of the ER doctor that he needed more testing, but likely had lung cancer. LUNG CANCER. It wasn't completely unexpected, given his recently ended habit, but it was still just as hard to hear. We cried together. I called my baby brother to let him know dad was trying to reach him. He also called our middle brother. The news devastated us all. He said he was going to the VA in the morning for a second opinion because he was not impressed with the vague answers he got at the local hospital.

After discussing it with my husband that night, I decided I would make the 3 1/2 hour drive to the VA to be there with my dad in the morning. I had no idea how long I would be staying. I just knew I needed to be there. When I walked in the following morning, I had gotten there just in time. My dad and my aunt were waiting to get into his appointment. Only there was a problem. The Dr had been unexpectedly called out for a family emergency. They wanted my dad to be seen the following day instead. I stepped into the discussion, pleading for an appointment that day, explaining my father needed answers and was clearly in need of a doctor. He hadn't even been able to walk in to the ER from the parking lot because his breathing was too labored. He had been sitting in a wheel chair while waiting and although he was exerting no energy, he was still unable to breathe. The triage nurse said it was a no-go. He'd have to wait. I told her fine, we'd walk down to the ER instead. After much arguing and not giving up on our part, she finally said she'd "take his stats, and if they warranted it, let us go to the ER." Needless to say, his Pulse-Ox was only 82% rather than the 90+ it should've been. Idiot nurse finally did her job and sent us to the ER. Little brothers joined me and my aunt in waiting for answers. When I got to go back to see my dad, the Dr came in and asked if he'd ever had a heart attack. He answered that he'd never had one, but the Dr assured him he was having one at that moment. He was sent to ICU. Over the next few hours tests were run and he was told he'd be transferred to St Francis to see a specialist. Tests showed he had actually had numerous "silent" heart attacks over a period of probably years and may need bypass surgery. My brothers and I had grabbed supper while we waited for the paperwork and transfer. We got to St Francis and were met by the chaplain who wanted me to sign paperwork to become my dad's Medical Power of Attorney in case he was incapacitated and couldn't make decisions. Dad needed to sign before going under sedation. Real life decisions hit REAL quick. The reality of being an adult, the oldest in the family, and a future of possibly making life and death decisions for one of my parents sucker-punched me in the gut.

Over the next week, my dad was determined not to be a candidate for bypass. They opted for placing stints instead to open up his arteries. He had a total of 3 of them placed. After the surgery, the Dr told us one of his major arteries was 100% blocked (leaving part of his heart muscle dead), one was 60% blocked and one was 40% blocked. He had been functioning on only 15% of his heart. They said if he had gone home the first day instead of to the ER, he wouldn't be here. **Insert future plan to write Cardiologist at VA letter about the asinine triage nurse.** After the hospital stay, dad stayed with my aunt for a few days then came to stay with us for 2 weeks while he recovered and adjusted to life on medication as well as a new diet. A few months later, he received his diagnosis of Congestive Heart Failure, as well as a prognosis of 5-10 years...

Long post, I realize, but I wanted to give you the back story. Today my daddy turns 72. Today it has been 4 1/2 years. My daddy was given a second chance. I don't know how accurate the 5-10 year prognosis is or how much time we have left. He is doing as well as can be expected now and taking better care of himself in order to have as long as possible. So today, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for medical professionals who know what they're doing. I'm thankful we were persistent with the one who didn't so he could be seen. I'm thankful my daddy was around to meet my first daughter, and, God-willing, that he'll be here when we bring our second one home from China this summer. I'm thankful for celebrating his 70th with him and making a big deal of him that day. I'm thankful, believe it or not, for the CHF forcing us to realize, you can't take life for granted. You can't assume you have forever. You can't live in the past and you can't predict the future. But you CAN live today, in the here and now. You CAN tell those you love how much you love them. You CAN live life intentionally, on purpose. So today, I celebrate my daddy. The man I've looked up to my whole life. The man who never let me forget I was his princess. The man who let me know he had my back, no matter what, until the day he handed that job over to my husband and became my back-up.  ;)  I'm thankful for the time I've been given so far and for whatever time remains.  I'm thankful for second chances. Happy Birthday to the first man to ever hold my heart! I love you more than words Daddy!

The Long Road Home

I've been rather quiet lately regarding our adoption. It wasn't really intentional, although I believe it may have been a subconscious way of avoiding on my part. We're in the phase of adoption where we truly are at the mercy of the system...a backwards, confusing and sometimes very frustrating system.

I want to be clear though. We are BLESSED. We should NOT have any information on our daughter at this point. She's not technically even in the system. Yet, by God's grace, we continue to get bits and pieces of information, some big, some small--but ALL blessings.

We got word last week that she's further behind in the "process" of becoming adoptable than we had previously thought. Based on where she currently is, and judging from the journeys others have been on at the same point in the process, it could easily be another 6 months before her file is even ready--before she's officially adoptable. And from the time we get matched, with any child, the average time is 4-6 months before we get to travel to get her. SO...add those up. Yep. It could easily be another YEAR before we are able to hold our little girl. Now you can understand why I've been rather quiet.

Part of me is heartbroken and physically pained when I consider another entire year of not having my daughter home. Yet part of me is extremely grateful that, if we must wait, at least we wait knowing that she's in foster care...she's in a family home setting and not an orphanage where cribs line the walls and open spaces and the children are institutionalized. She is safe and loved and happy. Still another part of me asks Why? Why must we wait this long when we love her so much? When we'd gladly leave TOMORROW to get her if it was possible? Why is THIS the process for us when we sit back and watch so many others have a straight-forward, "typical" international adoption?

And yet (and I know we've said this time and again) she's worth every pain, every frustration, every discomfort, every piece of paperwork...all of it...including the wait. No matter how long it takes, no matter what we must go through, no matter how many people tell us "maybe it's time to look at other children"...we will wait. You may not understand or you may just think we're nuts, but she's our daughter. It's that simple.

So she's clearly taking the long road home. Not by anyone's choice. Not by anyone's preference. Not even to anyone's understanding. Only God, in His infinite wisdom, knows why this is the road we are on, the road she is on. Maybe it will be clear someday. Maybe we'll never know this side of heaven. Either way, we continue to wait, to hope, to pray.

We covet your prayers during this time. Some days are easier than others. Some days are horrible. If we come to mind on any given day, please stop to say a prayer for us. It may just be one of those days we desperately need it.  :)