Quiet nights

…and just briefly I find myself wishing.

Wishing my way out of this “New life” that has been created. This “New normal” That has become, well, normal. Wishing myself back, into those days before staring into deep blue eyes, and a big smile would make my spine tingle. Wishing myself back into those days where her smile could light up my day, not break my heart…all over again.

I know I should be happy, and I am. Really, despite the looks of things lately, I usually am fairly happy. Able to see through the dusk, and dark days and into the bright future where these kids lives will eventually take them. But some days, well, nights, its just not enough. When the house is quiet, and the toys are still, when the floor isn’t crawling with action, and yelling and laughing isn’t distracting me. When things are still, and quiet…

I find myself where no parent wishes to be.

Alone.

Because no one, can ever fill the hole that belongs to her.

I miss her so much, that sometimes she seems so close. Sometimes, I think that if I could just close my eyes long enough, and hold her close enough…that maybe, just maybe, she will come back. That if I turn around three times, sit down once, before opening my eyes, that maybe somehow that will break the code, and she will be here.

But Im left with pictures.

Pictures that hold memories. Happy times. People who are still here, and still make life worth living. But pictures that hold empty hope. The hope that she still will come back. That her memory still is alive. That she means something to me, and that maybe, just maybe, that will be enough.

I used to wake up every morning, close my eyes, and force them open…and plead. That just for one more day, she could be here. That for one more day I could hold the little angel that made my life, worth living. That for just one more minute, I could hold her, love her, hug her…

I wake up now, knowing that shes gone. That shes not coming back, and that it has to be ok.

Because I have three reasons to get out of bed, and go on with the day.

…and most days, it IS ok. It really is.

But some nights, when things are quiet. When my mind is silent. Her memory comes dancing in, and I find myself missing her…and wishing, once more, to hold her, and tell her…just how much she meant to me, something I took advantage of.

Instead, I will hug the kids extra tight, tell them I love them, and make sure I don’t have any regrets.

Because sometimes, living with regrets is the hardest, living with the guilt is hard, and living without her, is just too much.

Missing…

For Emmy

I sit here tonight, on the evening of what would have been your seventh birthday, listening to the rain fall and the wind blow. It much like it was the day you were born, a typical stormy October evening. I cant erase the thoughts, I cant help myself but wonder just what you would be doing, who you would be becoming, what your attitude would be, and all of that stuff that really doesn’t matter until you just don’t have it anymore.

I ask myself all the time, how I live without you? How do I live without the things that really made the world worth living in? How do I live without waking up and seeing your smile, or coming home to your hugs, or kisses? Why do I bother in this world, when your not here to bother for? I guess the answer would have to be, because I have to. It doesn’t mean that its been easy, its been far from easy. People say that with time, it becomes easier, and while that is true…there are some parts that time just wont heal. But that’s ok. It really is. Because if time healed everything, then it would erase your memory from my mind completely. Id rather live with the pain and your memory, than no pain, and no memory.

I miss you, so much little princess. I miss your smiles, your hugs, your kisses, your laugh. I miss all the things I took advantage of, all the things I thought I would have a life time to enjoy. I miss you, and who you would be today. I feel cheated sometimes, that I only got to know you for two years, but I feel luckier than ever to have been able to call you mine, for those two years. You gave me a reason and hope, when there wasn’t any to be found. You gave me someone to love when I didn’t think love was possible. You gave me a reason, when I didn’t think there was one. And in a way, you have given me strength to face this world alone.

Emmy, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I don’t think I could even do justice with words. I can only say I love you so many times before it turns into a cliché. I can only say how much I miss you, before it looses all meaning.

Life certainly wont ever be the same. It wont ever be how it was before you, because before you came, I didn’t know it was possible to love and be loved by someone so tiny. Before you, I lived for the future. The what could be, and what might be someday. It wont ever be the same as life with you, because life with you was filled with innocent bliss that came before knowing just how hard your world COULD be rocked. I lived in the present, with you, right then. It wont ever be the same as life after you, because when you left, your absence shook my world harder than it has been shook before. The first few years, I lived for the past. The what was, what I knew, and what I loved.

Its different now, little one. Life is different. Now, being able to look back, I like to think I can take the best of all three worlds. The living for the future, the importance of living in the present, and loving those you have now, and of course, keeping the past, because that past makes you who you are…but learning to keep the past, in the past, knowing that you wont ever be able to go back…and relive what already was.

My little angel, I miss you so much, and if I could…I would tell you just how much you meant to me, and how much I love you. I can only hope you know.

Ill love you forever,

- Dad

Happy Birthday

October 22, 2002 – January 11, 2005

 

Happy seventh Birthday, Emmy.

 

I miss you like crazy, and love you forever. Keep smiling, little one. Keep smiling.

 

Almost there…Almost over

Its approaching faster than I wanted, but in a way, Im glad. Glad its coming, so it can be done with. Glad to get another year out of the way. To finally be able to focus on other things. Finally.

Its different this year, I don’t know how. Don’t know why. Its been a more reflective time, as I realize that seven years ago, the memories of death that now haunt me, weren’t even a part of my life. Seven years ago, the worse thing in my life was getting up and going to a job I hated. The only thing I worried about was if the future “Kid” would interrupt my sleep. I had planed to be the “Back seat parent” the one who agreed with what was already being said, did what I was told, was there when needed, but never making the big choices.

Being a parent wasn’t something I wanted, it was something I was doing because Aimee wanted it, and I was going to do anything she wanted.

Seven years ago, I couldn’t care less about the future “Kid.” I had what I wanted, I knew what I had, and I was content with how things were. I was looking forward to starting a family, but then, I didn’t even know what the word meant. A tiny house? Another person? Sleepless nights?

Seven years ago, I would get up, go to work, put in my time, and come home to the one person who really completed me. The one person who I knew loved me, for nothing I could be or would be, but for who I was. I could have the worse day possible, and still be able to come home, and know she was there.

Seven years ago, death didn’t even enter my mind. Seven years ago, I was as naïve as could be. Thinking that things would be fine, that no harm would or could come. Knowing life was pretty near perfect, but not knowing it was as close as it would ever be. Seven years ago…

Seven years later, I not only miss my wife, I miss my future “Kid”…I miss Emmy. The one who changed my world, and rocked everything from top to bottom. The one who lit up a room with a smile, and could make anyone laugh. The one who was known for her big hugs, and wet kisses. That one…who wanted to be fed all hours of the night and day, who cried when she wasn’t being held. The one who taught me HOW to love, the one who I forgot where I left, who I made mistakes with, and watched her take her first steps at the cemetery. The one I didn’t think I could hold – because I might break her…

The one, who was just a “Future kid” That I didn’t really care about, was my daughter. My princess. My angel. My everything.

…and seven years later, as the 22nd approaches, I find myself not only feeling the whole that Aimee left, but the gap that Emmy filled, and left…

The ones I never thought I could love. The ones I cant live without.

You don’t know just how much you love what you have, until you don’t have it…and then, you want it. Just to tell them, once more. How much you love them, and miss them. Sometimes I think, just one more minute will get me through, but then I realize…that one more minute wouldn’t be enough to fill the gaps that are left for a lifetime.

Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven
I’ll find my way, through night and day
Cause I know I just can’t stay
Here in heaven

Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knee
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please
Begging please

(instrumental)

Beyond the door
There’s peace I’m sure.
And I know there’ll be no more…
Tears in heaven

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Sometimes…

Sometimes, I like to look back and see how things were last year or at some other random point in life.

Sometimes I like to see, to compare, to gauge, and sometimes…I like to be reminded that it will be ok, eventually. That this happens, every so often…and that it does pass.

Sometimes I like to make sure Im on track, that were making progress together, and that things are going to be ok, even if they arent at the moment.

Sometimes, I just need to know that Im not going crazy, that Im already, crazy.

 

But sometimes knowing this, doesn’t make things any better.

 

Sometimes, it just makes things worse.

Sometimes, it doesn’t seem to matter. Doesn’t seem to make a difference, it doesn’t seem to do anything.

Sometimes, on days like today, when all you really want to do is just open your eyes and realize that these past few years have just been some version of a bad dream, reading that sometime before…things were this way, doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t help. It just makes things worse, because you know that it will happen again, even when THIS time has passed.

Sometimes, you cant look past whats bothering you, to see what you have.

Sometimes what you have, doesn’t take the place of what you don’t…and instead, it just makes things a little harder, knowing that nothing will ever fill that empty place.

Sometimes. It just doesn’t matter. Because sometimes, you just want what you cant have, and the knowledge that you wont ever be able to have it, physically hurts.

Sometimes its ok…

 

And sometimes, its just not.

A sign…

…that I really am THAT crazy

This afternoon, I was writing. Just to write. Just to get things out, to try and free up some space in my mind…I wasn’t really writing to say anything, just more or less…writing. To release the pent up things inside. I ended up deleting most of it, except for this part I wrote about Emmy. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do with it, but I decided to hold onto it, just in case something came up, and I needed to use it for something.

People often say that they get signs, from people who have passed on. This hasn’t quite been the case with me. The night Emmy died, the northern lights were out, brighter than I had ever seen them before, and I took it as a sign that she was ok. That she was with her mom, and everything was ok. But other than that, I havent seen or heard anything. But it hasn’t bothered me too much, and I havent really thought much about it, until tonight…

I can accept a lot of things, but I cant accept this. I cant accept what isn’t right, and this just isn’t right, atleast, it doesn’t seem right. I don’t want to face another hollow birthday. Don’t want to see another birthday without her here. Don’t want to face the day that the rest of the world will continue on like nothing happened. Don’t want to face the day that SHOULD be celebrated, but isn’t. I don’t want to face it. I want to be with her, I want her to be here.

Most days I would give just about anything to go back and have one more minute with her, to hold her, to love her, to kiss her. To just be with her. Most days I would give anything to just have a little more time with her, to feel her arms around my neck, to hear her laugh, and see her smile. Most days, I would give just about anything to spent just that much more time with her.

But today…

Today I want her back, for good. Today I want her here. With me. Today I don’t want to let go. Today I want to hold her and love her.

Today I want to hear her laugh, and laugh with her.

Today I want to see her smile, and smile with her.

Today I want to hold her, and never have to let go.

Today I want to see her and see how big shes grown.

Today I want to know who she would be.

Today I want her.  Right here.  Right now. 

Today…

And then I tried to pick myself up, and carry on through the evening like nothing at all has happened.

Which is how this evening came into full view.

As the kids got into bed…I turn the radio on quietly, to drown out some of the silence…and then tried to write something worth reading. Which is when this song popped on…and I couldn’t think of any words to say. It just seemed to fit too well. Seemed to fall into place to nice. It just seemed…weird.

Who youd be today

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
Wear the pain like a heavy coat
I feel you everywhere I go
I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain
Still can’t believe you’re gone

Chorus:

It ain’t fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
The death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I’ve been through
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you’d be today

Would you see the world?
Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family?
I wonder, what would you name your babies?
Some days the sky’s so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy

Chorus

Today, Today, Today
Today, Today, Today

Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know I’ll see you again someday

Someday, Someday

Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

Originally posted August 22, 2008.

Its something that strikes a nerve every time I hear, or read the word. No, I havent had cancer, myself. But…it was an active part of my life a few years ago.

Emmy

My sister, the mom to the two kids I currently have custody of now, lost her battle with cancer at 28, July 7, 2005

But how it really effected my life, was when it took my daughter from me.

I dont think there are any other words that have sent chills up and down my spine than when I was in that small doctors office, being told that my little angel had that evil disease. That she had aggressive, brain tumors. I dont think there are any words that doesnt shake a parent in ways unthinkable, than to be told that your child has cancer.

November 2004.

It was not quite a month after her second birthday, when I took her in due to ear piercing screams from her, while she held her head. It wasnt what I had hoped for, approaching the holiday seasons, changing into a toddler, there wasnt time for a delay. There wasnt time for illness, there wasnt room for this in her life. They ran some test, took some blood, and sent us packing, they were busy with people who were in a car accident, they didnt have time to deal with my daughter who was just going through the “Terrible twos”. “Shes just itching for more attention, spend more time with her, make her stay in her bed” the “Ideas” were limitless.

A few weeks after her first appointment, I received the phone call, saying the doctor wanted to talk with us. I needed to come in, as soon as possible. He showed me X rays of her head, I had no idea what was coming. I was paranoid of the tiny room, and I had things to do, places to go, things that HAD to be done that day, I didnt have time to waste with him, as he showed me that she was alright. He sat down at his desk, took his glasses off, and stared my straight in the eyes, I purposely avoided his look, watching Emmy as she played with the germ infested toys that she had drug in with her. “Your daughter has brain tumor” I froze. What else could I do? What could I say? My mind froze. My body froze. He must have had the wrong files. It wasnt possible. I looked at him for answers, I searched his face for any signs of a cruel joke. But he was serious. It was the beginning of the end.

December 2004

A month later we boarded a plane, and headed for Seattle where she was to under go brain surgery. By that point, every possibility had been thought of, and the best option seemed to be to have her under go surgery. “Its a 50/50 shot” I could still hear his words ringing in my ears. “But if we dont do something now….” An aggressive, malignant tumor, growing, inside of her brain. Taking over her life. How could such an evil, dirty disease such as cancer be in her body? It didnt seem possible still. December 11th, she under went surgery.

While she was in surgery, I spent the 8 hours it took pacing the halls fearing the worse, wondering if I had made the right decision. “Its a 50/50 shot” kept ringing in my ears. But what if the odds were against her. Aside from being told not to consider the “What ifs” about it, I couldnt help myself.

Emmy was my everything. Not only was she my daughter, my angel, and my princess, she was my reason, my life, my morning and evening. After loosing my wife two years prior, Emmy took the top notch of being #1. Her heart exploded with love, and she loved everyone as much as a two year old could. She had no fear, but rather, boldly walked into the hospitals, proclaiming loudly, “HI, I ME!” Her way of introducing herself. She could win her way into anyones heart, any day. Her big hugs, wet whispers and slobbery kisses were to die for. She could love and laugh like nobodies business. Even at a young age, her personality shone through, and it was quite clear that she had her own style about her.

She won over every nurse and doctor there was in Seattle, and made great progress in the way of recovery. “She might have some brain damage, or memory loss, we wont know for sure how extensive things will be until she recovers completely” But when she came to after being in surgery, and the smile slowly peeled across her face, it was clear “Emmy” was still there. But it was far from over. The doctor wasnt happy with the surgery, saying that while it went well, she would still need to under go chemo in the near future. He wanted her to recover completely, however, before putting her through any more.

January 2005

January 1st 2005 – Its my birthday, and I really dont care, the only thing I wish for is that she will come through. I only want her to be ok, and for her to live a normal life. I wish I could trade her places, its so hard to watch her go through this. Her screams cut right to my center, and her eyes read with the pain she is in. I dont care what happens, as long as she comes out ok.

They sent her back to our local hospital the 8th of January. Two days later, the doctors told me not to expect her to make it through the night. There was nothing more they could do for her, and it was clear that she was going down hill….at a rapid speed. As night neared, the doctors continued to tell me to expect the worse, and all together, gave up on any hope of her recovery.

Emmy passed away January 11th, 8:45 pm.

She was 2 years 3 months and 11 days.

The night she joined her mom, I watched the night sky light up with the rarely seen Northern lights. They are common for further north, but a rare sight here. If they do happen along, its usually just a green light in the distance. January 11th, was an acception, as the whole sky light up with pinks, whites and greens that danced across the sky. Emmy was a very loving little girl, with a heart bigger than life. She loved everyone, and perhaps taught me one of lifes greatest lessons….

“Life is to short, to not smile” Because as she saw it, there was always something to smile about….she left a deep impression on my heart, as any child would to a parent, to say I taught her something wouldnt be true. To say she taught me something, would be more accurate.

Its been three years since shes been gone, and not a day goes by that I dont think about her, and her big heart. I wonder sometimes, if there was something I could have done to prevent her tumors, if maybe, as people often told me, “I caused her to much stress, or messed up her diet” I do know that cancer is an evil, dreadful disease, and it effect not only my daughters life, but mine as well.

Forever and always, my angel you will be

Stand up to Cancer

*****

Time changes things, yes. But if I could change time, I would change a few things.

Taking a moment

To remember the “Goof” in Emmy.

Because, sometimes I have to

My mind went blank, the room turned fuzzy, nothing made sense, it was as if there was a spinning sensation…I needed to get off, I was getting dizzy…I had to stop it. I needed to think, I needed to breath. There had to be something. The hope. I needed hope. Where was the hope, yes, hope, I could hold onto, hope I could see, and hope that I could cling to for the rest of my life…where was it when I needed it?

The first thing that came back into focus was her: hunched over in the corner of the office, playing with a germ infested toy. Her faded blue jeans, bright pink t shirt and messy brown hair. It couldn’t be true. It just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t any way I was going to believe it. There had to be hope. He was the next object to come into view.

Leaning back in his chair, glasses falling off his nose, white over coat, his day planner laid out on his desk, holding the plans to the rest of his life. His pen was sitting on his lip, and he stared in my direction as if waiting. For me. Im sure I wasn’t the first, or the last, person he had to tell the news to. He wasn’t very good. He laid it out, blunt with full force, and waited, to see what I would do. While I waited…to see what he would say. He was the doctor, why couldn’t he fix it, do something, change things, do it over again…and suddenly, my disbelief, turned to anger. A hot passionate anger that made me want to pick up the bundle of energy in the corner and run: far away. To some safe place. Somewhere where nothing could hurt her, and all would be well…

It was his fault. He was the one. His day planner. His dinner plans. His life laid out before him, it sat next to her file. The one that read: Brain tumor. The one that held my destination. Lay there, mingled with his life, and who knows how many other peoples. It was his job. To break the news to people. To tell them their children, the ones that they were suppose to protect, and keep from harms way, were going to die. In more or less words. I hated him. With everything in me, I hated him.

After discussing things with him, in further detail, I took her hand, and walked out of the room. I was numb. I was floating. I was there in body, but I wasn’t there. I noticed the family in the waiting room. I saw the other kids playing, and I saw her, staring at them as well. Having no idea what her future held, but know that with her hand in mine, she would be safe: safe from all the dangers in the world. Safe from anything that came her way, I could protect her, I was her father. Her daddy. She was my little girl, it was my job…and I was failing. I was messing up the one thing that I felt I knew how to do. I wasn’t doing, my job.

I was worse off than the man in the white suit, who mixed his life in with ours. He atleast, was doing his job, and doing it well. I. Was not. I was slowly loosing the grips to the reins I had known. The bottom of my world was beginning to crack, and my daughter was slowly slipping out of my grip…and there was nothing. Not one thing. That I could do to stop it. I was a failure. To the one person who trusted me more than anything in the world. The one person who cried my name, and ran to me for protection…and I was letting her down.

It was the second to the worse day in my life.

Hearing the news was almost as bad as living it out. Just as he had said.

One month to the day after her surgery, and I sat there, holding her hand, yelling for her not to leave, knowing that there wasn’t anything I could physically do to save her, or help her.

Knowing that she was taking her last breaths, but not wanting to believe, because while it put her out of her pain, it had put a start to mine. I was selfish like that. Not wanting her to go. Wanting her to stay. Wanting to be able to save her. Wanting what I couldn’t have.

I spent close to an hour with her, after she was gone. After her final breaths were taken, and the first of many tears were shed. Watching her change, knowing that she wasn’t there, but wishing, that there was some way it was all a mistake…that she would come back, that she would breath, and smile, and laugh, and be…herself again. Just once more. For a little while. I was sure, if she stayed a moment longer, I could save her. I could hold her tighter, love her more, and cure her illness. Take it away, and give her the life that she deserved…

Four ½ years later…four and ½ years, to the day.

It doesn’t seem right. It still doesn’t seem real. There are still times I wish, and wonder, and THINK that shes still there, that I “Lost” her somewhere, that I didn’t leave her in that hospital bed. That maybe I forgot her, or she ran away, or there was some mistake, that maybe…she really isn’t gone. I play tricks on myself, If I close my eyes hard ENOUGH she MIGHT come back. Im just not trying hard enough, not wanting it bad enough, I didn’t love her enough, I didn’t want her enough, I didn’t care for her good enough…

I failed her. I gave up. I walked away. I yelled too much. I drank too much. I wasn’t there enough. I didn’t give her all she needed. I wasn’t…the father she needed.

…and while I cant go back, and I cant undo things, I can go forward, and I can beat myself up every single day, for not being a better father to the little girl who deserved so much much more, than me.

Four and ½ Fucking years later, I can still remember her, on the 11th of each month, and KNOW what happened. I can still remember her, and I can still be upset about things. I can still hate that doctor, and I can still wish with everything in me, that it is some mistake. That tomorrow when I open the front door, with the sun streaming in, she will be standing there, smiling, and we can pick up where we left off.

But Im forced to put these thoughts away, pack them up, and send them to the furthest corners of my mind, if I don’t want to be held back, and grieve for the moments I could have had…should have done…and the person I MIGHT have become…because I refused to let my daughters memory, fade.

One day, maybe. But not today.