Today was the first day to return to 'quasi normal'. I packed up the girls and went to Grandma's. We are returning to the pre-cancer Tuesdays. The day that mom gets to see the girls and I get to pray that my kids don't break anything. I say that in jest, because I know my mom would be ok if things were broken but I don't want my kids to break them.
Anyways I had prepared myself for the newness, the lack of dad, etc etc. And was doing really well until 11:30. This was the time my dad would've come home from work, or from a golf game. So I found myself looking at the door and waiting. So strange. I could hear the garage door open, I imagined the door to the house opening. Had to shake myself. He's not coming home. He's never coming home. Pretty sad. This whole thing is sad. But it is life. It is the new normal.
Mom found some really great pictures of dad. I'll have to put a few here when I scan them. One was a picture of dad and me. I was about 5, so he would have been 35. He was wearing grey sweatshorts and a short sleeved dress shirt. A fashion maven he was not, lol. But in this picture he was showing me how to skip. I don't remember this event at all, but I do know Dad spent so much of his time trying to show us the cool things in life. I'll miss that. I know he had so many plans with the girls.
Mom told me that she was talking to dad back in October and he said that 3 years ago he thought to himself that he thought he had cancer. He felt like shit. He felt horrible. But he couldn't face it again. I can't fight it. I won't fight it. I fought stage 3, 6 years ago, and if I have it then screw it. It will kill me and this way I can just die. If I'm supposed to die, then I'm going to die. Why fight the inevitable.
I can't even imagine being so scared that you don't want to fight it. I was so mad when mom told me this. But now I just feel sad for my dad. To want to fight but thinking its inevitable that he'll die anyways. He went through only a moderate amount of hell 10 years ago, and this one was pure hell. The pain he must have been in. So many different theories on if he was really in pain those last few days. I like the theory that his right brain had shut down so he really wasn't aware of what was going on. I like that one.
Anyways, its done. He's dead. And those left behind must find a way to move on. I'm moving on by biking and running. I was telling a friend that I'm doing ok, but once I cross that finish line in Lake Louise, I think I'll just breakdown. And being Erika, she said, well at least you have a plan :D
Walking tonight. Hope to do 8km. But this is all dependant on my very pregnant sister, and the extreme slush.
Gym Training tomorrow
Bike Sunday (hopefully outside)
2 hours ago