Permanence

Somehow it's already been 2 weeks since Mom called to tell me we were losing Dad. Somehow it's already been 1 week since we said our final goodbye and buried Dad. In many ways, life has moved on. I taught water fitness and piano lessons. I've done laundry and school drop-off's. Yet, in many ways I don't want life to move on.

The permanence is starting to settle in and I don't like it.

There's the Dad I remember before he got this disease, but those memories seem so far away now. There's the Dad I remember when he was first diagnosed - changed, unsure but still laughing and playing with the girls. But those memories are just in pictures and video and in some ways it seems cruel because it isn't Dad in those pictures and videos. The cruelty lies in the fact that this disease gave me a different Dad these past 4 years and while I loved him no less; while the unconditional love magnified tenfold, this disease stole my Dad's soul and my family and I had to watch.

The permanence is starting to settle in.

Now, my last visual memories of Dad are of him gasping for breath and so many other things that happens to the body when it slowly dies. My last visual memories are of him lying in his bed, covered in the afghan my Mom made for him, while we talked with the funeral director. I know there will be a day when I can say that, while so difficult, it was the greatest privilege as his daughter to be at his side when he went Home. Right now, I can't because...

The permanence is starting to settle in.

I didn't want to see Dad in the casket but I looked all the while trying to block that moment out. I want to say I felt that cliche feeling of "he looks so peaceful". I want to believe in the cliche, "he's in heaven and he's whole." Yet, it's so difficult because...

The permanence is starting to settle in.

Honestly, I think I was just finally getting used to and accepting Dad being in memory care. Now, I am no longer able to walk into the memory care facility and see him smile at me from his usual spot at the dinner table. I'll no longer see the glint in his eye and the dimple in his cheek when he smiles at me. I no longer get to hold his hand and give him a kiss goodbye on the forehead. I've missed his voice and his reassurance for quite some time now. I've missed his hugs and hearing his laugh. I've missed so many things. Now, I just simply miss him.

I may have felt this moment of peace, as though all would be well with Dad and our soul's. Yet, I also felt my world implode a bit. I keep picturing that moment... The one where I read the commendation, then looked up to see everything about him become still. This image keeps coming to me.

This is the image of permanence and I don't like it.