Poem for my Dad

Sometimes I can’t remember
If you’re dead or still alive
I’m not there to see the empty couch
Where you always lay for 7 years
Even in that borrowed hospital bed
Till they carried your body away

We never spoke much anyway
Not since I moved
Though there is a void when I call home
You aren’t there to ask me
About the weather or the car
Was that the way you said “I love you”
In that senseless chatter?

When I was a child
You were so much bigger and stronger
I would sit upon your shoulders
On walks downtown
I would sit in your lap
As we watched tv

When I got older
I watched the 1st bout of cancer weaken you
I watched you choke on your own blood

Your voice changed after they opened up your throat
The tumor was gone
But so was the sound I knew
The sound I can’t remember anymore

You no longer worked or golfed
You slept and watched tv
You said you wouldn’t be around much longer
Till Mom bought you that motorcycle
Then you had a reason to live
Were we not good enough?

You lasted over 7 years
At 5 you were “cancer free”
But it came back suddenly
They said there was nothing they could do
The cancer swallowed your belly whole
They said you had up to 6 weeks
You left after 1

When it came to the end
The color drained from your face
And your skin grew tight
I could no longer make out your words
There was no use for food, water, or sound
You only blinked and stared off

Sometimes I can’t remember
Whether you’re alive or dead
Then I hear someone breathing
I stop and count
Timing each breath
As I did those last 2 nights

I stayed with you at night
I monitored your breaths
They were shallow and rapid
2 to my 1

The night you died it slowed
You gasped for air
Then silence
Another gasp
Then silence
Till you looked at me and stopped
You stopped
You stopped
And all I could do was cry
“He stopped”
“He just stopped”

Before you drifted off
We talked
I said “I love you”
I said “I’m sorry”
I said “I forgive you”
I told you to go
To not hang on
We didn’t want you to be in pain
I said all that, but I never said “good bye”
And I’ll never get to

Sushi and Waffles

Maybe my new hobby is cooking. It certainly seems that way after this weekend. Saturday night Erick and I made sushi (not technically cooking, but along the lines). He was asleep while I made the rice, but he helped roll it.

We went to the Asian Market earlier in the day. It was a fun adventure complete with Ramune! We got a case of the stuff. We located all the items we needed, with some help. I was blind and could not see the mirin mixed in with the rice vinegar.

I made the rice and worried that it was too sticky, but Erick said it was great. We made Ebi Maki (a shrimp roll). I've never used my sushi maker so we weren't sure how it worked (the directions were in Japanese!). Erick figured it out. Our rolls looked good, a little on the fat side, but they tasted great.

We used the sushi set his parents gave me for Christmas. It was a nice looking dinner. I was impressed at how well we did. We drank Ramune instead of green tea. Erick is not a fan of green tea, and I was too lazy to make some for myself.

This morning I made waffles. I bought a waffle iron. I figured that would be a good idea since my pancakes come out looking bad. When I make pancakes they taste good, but the shape is all wrong. I figured the waffle iron would make the presentation of the food better. I was right. :) Go me!

Valentine's Day

Today was a good day. Being a teacher, of course a party was involved. My kids brought their Valentines and the assorted candy/cupcakes/cookies. Today went off pretty well. Some of the other classes were a bit wild, but mine wasn't any worse than usual.

We weren't allowed to start our parties until 1:30, so we did have to work. I had an issue with one of my kids stealing the other day so she was in the office. The nurse came to my door and said "It's definately 5 o'clock." Which is our joke for rough days. SO I immediately think something is up with that kid or I have to go do a restrain. I walked quickly to the door of my portable and stepped out on the porch.

On the stairs was Erick with a dozen purple roses, a large puppy stuffed animal, chocolates and a big goofy grin. I about cried. I was so surprised. No one has ever done anything so romantic. :)
The kids all ran to the door and peaked out. When I turned to come back inside I heard my kids all running to their seats. *cute*

We keep our diaries hidden

The volumes speak words, most I never utter aloud. These are the secrets I keep. They range in topic from the terribly silly to the gravely serious. My confessions of sadness, happiness, love and stupidity are scribbled over the pages of 11 books. The earliest dates back 15 years. Each volume does not represent a year. Some have taken 2 to finish due to lack of commitment, some only months. The books themselves are not all ones I picked out. The books of my choosing represent my spirituality of the time I wrote. I have one that reflects day and night when I first realized the cycle of depression I was going through. There is one of a stone Thai Buddha that is calming and peaceful. There is one that looks like the Necronomicon from Evil Dead/ Army of Darkness that is filled with turmoil (not a planned event). Others that were given to me include one with a palm tree, and one with a french book cover. I bought one tonite that has a flowering tree with Kanji. It will be volume 12.

Outlet

For a few months now I have been wanting to paint. Paint what? Anything, furniture, pictures, whatever. After months of my brain nagging me to get a hobby I broke down and got some paints. I've been experimenting with the colors and brushes on canvas paper. I don't suck. I feel a little better getting out some of that emotion I have built up inside of me.

I know it's been 4 months, but it is still hard to deal with. I have kept it all inside of me; not thrusting my pain on the ears of others. I do not wish to bother them with this. I know it can get old hearing the same thing over and over again. I don't want to bore people with my pain. I want to be ok with it all.