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January 2009 
my daddy
Posted on Jan 8th, 2009
by 
K*Roll
K*Roll
so my dad just died. not really, i suppose...technically he'll die tomorrow. but he got really sick really suddenly. one week he was fine, the next week he was in the ER with pancreatitis, the next week he was in a coma, and now he's gone. i've been really really really angry and so upset and i've cried so much but the funny thing is that i still don't really believe it. i saw him in the hospital with his eyes blank and wandering and his skin getting moist and flappy while his muscles atrophied away, but it's really hard to believe that he won't just come back in a few days and be like normal. it'll take me a while just to realize it, because it was so sudden and so shocking. i will never be the same.
i feel sad and angry and overwhelmed and mortified and terrified and guilty. guilty because i was so pissed at my parents for so long. i basically didn't talk to them all year, because i was having problems adjusting to college and they weren't being too supportive, and i was depressed. when i called home, it was brief and only to talk to my mom. my dad didn't talk much. he never did really. but he'd pick up and i'd ask to talk to her. i hope i didn't hurt him, because i never thought i was missing out on my last chances to be a good daughter.
it sucks that i didn't tell him i loved him while he was awake. i didn't think it was serious til they told me he was in a coma, and after that i told him so much, but he didn't hear.
i feel like someone ripped my heart out and pounded it with a meat tenderizer and then stuffed it haphazardly back in. i'm tired and broken and utterly beaten. i couldn't stop crying today when i was saying goodbye to him. i could barely stand up.
then haitham. he's my unbelievably perfect boyfriend. he says he loves me more than anyone on earth has ever loved anyone, and--however cynical i am--i actually believe him. he loves me that much. and i love him that much too. it's been hard being away from him this year, but when we're together we feel like different people. we're whole and healthy and one, but only together. separate we're both so messed up.
i texted him and told him i couldn't describe the pain, that i was sure i must be dying. he called and all i could do was sob wordlessly into the phone. then he told me to come pick him up--a big huge deal since his dad is very strict and wasn't home and he was risking basically lifetime grounding from everything. but i picked him up because i didn't have the strength to save him from that risk--i needed him so badly, and i knew he would care so much more about making sure i was ok than about pleasing his dad.
we ate a little--i hadn't eaten all day--and he went with me to the hospital to visit one last time. we cried all over each other. after that we went and sat in a park and were just quiet, trying to get a grip on all the chaos. and i felt so much better. not even better--i felt GOOD. we held each other and professed undying love and all that cheesey stuff, but it was real. more real than anything. how could i possibly imagine that he would turn all the agony and incredulity into love and strength and hope? he gives me love and hope and time, and reason for my every rhyme. i know i'll be ok through this because i'm not an "i" anymore--i'm part of the most beautiful "we" in the world. it's going to be hard to remember that--i know that i have plenty of hard days ahead of me, and i'm going to cry and i'm even going to want to die--but i hope i never forget that smile of bliss when i promised him that i wouldn't give up on him and let myself die. i can't say this was the worst day of my life even though i said goodbye to my dad, because every day that i've had haitham has been infinitely better than every other day imaginable. it was so hard and so agonizing and i wondered if i would make it to tonight, but i did. and i even feel some peace. my daddy's gone, and i'm gonna miss him, and i may never stop regretting my actions toward him, but i know he'll be ok in heaven. and haitham is enough to make my life eternally blessed. and that's how daddy would want it.
i feel sad and angry and overwhelmed and mortified and terrified and guilty. guilty because i was so pissed at my parents for so long. i basically didn't talk to them all year, because i was having problems adjusting to college and they weren't being too supportive, and i was depressed. when i called home, it was brief and only to talk to my mom. my dad didn't talk much. he never did really. but he'd pick up and i'd ask to talk to her. i hope i didn't hurt him, because i never thought i was missing out on my last chances to be a good daughter.
it sucks that i didn't tell him i loved him while he was awake. i didn't think it was serious til they told me he was in a coma, and after that i told him so much, but he didn't hear.
i feel like someone ripped my heart out and pounded it with a meat tenderizer and then stuffed it haphazardly back in. i'm tired and broken and utterly beaten. i couldn't stop crying today when i was saying goodbye to him. i could barely stand up.
then haitham. he's my unbelievably perfect boyfriend. he says he loves me more than anyone on earth has ever loved anyone, and--however cynical i am--i actually believe him. he loves me that much. and i love him that much too. it's been hard being away from him this year, but when we're together we feel like different people. we're whole and healthy and one, but only together. separate we're both so messed up.
i texted him and told him i couldn't describe the pain, that i was sure i must be dying. he called and all i could do was sob wordlessly into the phone. then he told me to come pick him up--a big huge deal since his dad is very strict and wasn't home and he was risking basically lifetime grounding from everything. but i picked him up because i didn't have the strength to save him from that risk--i needed him so badly, and i knew he would care so much more about making sure i was ok than about pleasing his dad.
we ate a little--i hadn't eaten all day--and he went with me to the hospital to visit one last time. we cried all over each other. after that we went and sat in a park and were just quiet, trying to get a grip on all the chaos. and i felt so much better. not even better--i felt GOOD. we held each other and professed undying love and all that cheesey stuff, but it was real. more real than anything. how could i possibly imagine that he would turn all the agony and incredulity into love and strength and hope? he gives me love and hope and time, and reason for my every rhyme. i know i'll be ok through this because i'm not an "i" anymore--i'm part of the most beautiful "we" in the world. it's going to be hard to remember that--i know that i have plenty of hard days ahead of me, and i'm going to cry and i'm even going to want to die--but i hope i never forget that smile of bliss when i promised him that i wouldn't give up on him and let myself die. i can't say this was the worst day of my life even though i said goodbye to my dad, because every day that i've had haitham has been infinitely better than every other day imaginable. it was so hard and so agonizing and i wondered if i would make it to tonight, but i did. and i even feel some peace. my daddy's gone, and i'm gonna miss him, and i may never stop regretting my actions toward him, but i know he'll be ok in heaven. and haitham is enough to make my life eternally blessed. and that's how daddy would want it.
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Carol, this is a touching post, and I want to acknowledge you and the pain your dad and your family is going through. I will pray for all of you.
Michael
That was gorgeously told. I wish you the best. You have a lot to add to this world. I am father of a daughter also and I feel sure that your father is very proud of you.
I am in college, trying to get a B.S. degree in psychology, and I know how you feel. My dad died when I was 11. He and I lived apart from any influence of the rest of the family, across the continent from where they were. When he became bedridden, I had to take care of him, cleaning his urine bottle after coming home from elementary school. When he died, I had to move in with my aunt and uncle. I won’t tell you it’ll get all better. I don’t know of anybody who has completely healed from that kind of experience. But, I will tell you it gets better with time. Introspection helps. Especially journaling, poetry, and other expressive media. If you try to avoid the topic, it will fester, like an untreated wound. If you pay attention to it, but in the wrong ways (wallowing and the like), then it will be like the wound that was treated with so much medicine that the medicines reacted to each other and it became worse anyway. If, however, you apply the right amount of treatment and outlet, then the wound heals, leaving a small, barely noticeable scar. Keep the scar as a reminder of your strength. For now, you have been proven strong. You looked at the edge. You looked at it, examined the other side from the distance, and chose something else. Something made you stay. Try to find something other than your boyfriend. That’s great, but external, and out of your control. Find something within yourself, that thing of self-worth that made you stay alive, and in that knowledge, truly live.