What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter... (Kelly Clarkston)
It's been a long time since I've written. Losing my father was like a punch in my gut, and I feel like I still don't have my breath back. He was an amazing man. He was a strong man. He lived through the depression, fought for our freedom in WWII, worked in the copper mines in the UP, raised 8 children (some of them not so easy), went through several years with a very ill wife and young children at home, and lost my mother in his 40's. It has taken me all my life to realize how lucky I am to have had him as a father. Alzheimer's took his strength away. It took away who he was. But up until the very end, he still showed signs of knowing and wanting his family near him. Everything he did he did for his family. That is strength.
I have learned a lot about my own strength this last month, and have learned I am a lot stronger than I EVER gave myself credit for. I had to say goodbye to my father in his hospital bed on a Monday afternoon. I knew that I would not see him again, and that the next day I was going for treatment that would force me to be isolated from human contact for the following 6 days. I did not know if my father would pass and if I would even be able to attend his funeral. The RAI treatment to kill my cancer made me very ill. I had to be alone in my sons room for the first four days, and was vomiting and in pain unable to be with my family and my father at the hospital. My father held on until Thursday, after each of his 8 children had their chance to say goodbye. My husband got the phone call at work, and came home to tell me. Because of my radioactive status, he broke doctor's orders and held me, but only briefly. I could not hug my children. I could not join my brother and sisters in the funeral plans. I had to stay in the room and do what I needed to do for my own health and future. It was the most difficult thing I have ever done. It was pure strength of will that got me through.
His viewing was Monday, and I was cleared to go. I did not cry until the rosary was said. The rosary and his faith were a very important part of his life. I had written a poem for him in a previous blog, and asked if I could read it Tuesday at the service, along with some promises I made to him. I don't know how I got through it without shaking or crying. I think he (my Dad) gave me the strength to do it. He is laid next to my mother now which is right where he wanted to be.
On the same day we buried him, my doctor called and said she didn't believe my treatment worked, most likely because of all of the vomiting I did in the days after taking the pill. I will not know where I go next for a few more weeks, but I am ok with that. I will face it when it comes. You see, if I can sit in a room alone, grieving the loss of my father, unable to comfort my children, sick and hurting, and live through it, I can do anything. That did not kill me, it did not break me, it only made me stronger. While my heart is still broken, and there are still tears every day, they will not break me either. I have walked through the darkest of dark places, and emerged a different, stronger, more determined me. I will never be the same. I have lost pieces of me along the way, but found new ones. No one can go through a journey like mine and not be affected by it. I am only one of so many. If I can do this, so can you. I thought I was broken, but I wasn't, maybe just lost. My journey is not over, but I have the resources and determination now to continue it. Thank you Daddy for that gift you left me, your strength, your will, your pureness of heart. I will carry it with me for the rest of my life.
