I Ran Away From Home

Most of you who know me, know that I recently lost my father. My father and I were pretty close when I was a little girl, even though he was distant in so many ways. When my parents divorced ( I was nine) both remarried within three months. I lived with my mom and step-dad, my step-mom was not very nice to me, and so I rarely went out there.
I see a therapist and often told her that I wish I could see my Dad without my step-mom there, because she always hovered and interrupted our visit in some way. Since Daddy got Alzheimer's he was much kinder, softer, sweeter. He was more affectionate, and talked more about his true feelings. This was the dad I always wanted. In some way, as devastating as Alzheimer's is, it tears down some of those walls we put up in our lives.
In December, that all changed. My step-mom fell and broke her hip. She was facing a hip replacement and a long hospitalization and rehabilitation. She had been Daddy's caretaker, and he could not be left alone, so my step-sister, sister, and two step-nieces started a rotating schedule of staying with Daddy. I was able to talk with him, and while there was a lot of repeating myself over and over, there were also some very nice times when Daddy shared memories from his younger days. He made it clear he still loved my mother, even though he had been married to my step-mom for 47 years. He said my mom had left him, and he got "so low, so low I just didn't want to go on anymore. He said he wondered who would want him, and felt like "I'm nothing. I'm a nobody." I have been in that kind of place, but never for one minute ever thought my father had been. I guess we think of our parents as super-human without feelings. I told my Dad I loved him, and he said, "I love you, too, Baby Doll." This was the first time he had ever told me he loved me, and I have to tell you I drank that up like I was dying of thirst. I told him every time I saw him, and he always replied the same. In fact, before he died, I held his face and told him I love you and he said I love you, too. Those were the last words he said before dying.
After a few weeks at home with all us girls as caretakers, Daddy got sick with a cold, and it went into pneumonia. He had to be hospitalized, and we stayed with him there around the clock. He joked with the nurses, and stayed in the best spirit. Then he started to go downhill. He was released to go home on hospice, and lived a week after going home.
I am not handling this at all. I am totally in denial. Doesn't seem real to me. I am very grateful I got the opportunity to have that time with him, but I still expect him to be sitting in his chair when I go to his house.
In the midst of all this, I had Christmas, my mother-in-law's visit, and a Social Security hearing. I think I was at the edge and not dealing well, so I booked a trip to Seattle, and here I am. I sit and watch the seagulls flying around the skyscrapers. I stroll through the open markets. I've been journaling. I think I really needed to get some distance from my life. And now I feel guilty about leaving hubby. But he's coming out in a week or so for a few days.


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