With my leaving, I'm also leaving all my students that I've formed such awesome relationships with. I will miss them, but like someone wise once said, "Your kids will be your kids anywhere you go. So true."
So here are some things from my facebook posts that I want to keep, but need to clean off in order to become friends with my kids.
People blog all the time about their feelings, right? Isn't that what writing a note on facebook is like? Blogging my feelings?
My dad died tonight. The person who raised me to fight for what I believe in, the person who made me as strong as I am. The person who commanded respect when he walked into the room, not only because he was a huge guy, but because his personality and laughter were contagious. My dad was a wonderful person.
Is it really stupid that I'm afraid to delete his number from my cell phone? It's not that I'm sad to delete it. I'm literally afraid to delete it because that was how I last talked to him. What if I forget that conversation? And why the fuck didn't I tell him I loved him at the end of it?
It was weird coming to the part of someone's death when you get to go into the emergency room and talk to them. I kept thinking he was going to wake up. And the funny part was I didn't feel stupid talking to him at all. I felt like every time I ended my part of the "conversation" he was going to wake up and start in on his part. I made sure to cover his foot when I left because that and his arm were the only things not covered by the blankets. And his head. I didn't want him to be cold.
I guess he just dropped dead in the field he was working in. Which is better than taking the long way out of this world, I suppose. But god damnit, why? I keep looking around my parents' house and seeing all the things that remind me of him. I'm sitting in the stupid, beautiful kitchen he re-did all himself this past year typing on my parents' computer. At 1:43 in the morning. Because everytime I close my eyes, tears come out. When I'm awake and doing something, it's not so easy to cry.
I had my major breakdown in the parking lot of a hotel off Oralabor Road in Ankeny. I knew something was very wrong when my mom called during our Vocal Music meeting to say "Dad went down in a field, he's on his way to the hospital." I called Eric, who was luckily already home, to get things packed, we were heading home as soon as I could get there.
I hadn't heard anything from my mom after about 30 minutes, so I called her. It seemed like we could not drive fast enough. It didn't help we were battling rush hour traffic. She answered, but not really. All I could hear were sobs and then the call was lost. I called again and again, the call was lost. Finally, on the third try (dad, was that you?), a nurse named Barb answered the phone. She asked if I was the daughter. What kind of fucked up question is that? I thought. I answered yes, she asked me where I was. I told her pulling onto I-35 from Des Moines, we'd be there in two hours. She asked if I was driving - I said no, my husband was. Looking back, I see exactly where that was headed. I didn't at the time, I just remember feeling like my heart was going to explode and I might throw up all at the same time. When she told me I needed to pull over, I wanted to smash my fist through the fucking windshield. The only thing I could think of saying to her was, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" I felt bad, but I was so mad at her at that moment. So Nurse Barb from the emergency room, if you ever read this, I'm really sorry I swore at you.
Someone else got on the phone and told me I needed to take some deep breaths and calm down. At that moment, it seriously felt like I had a split personality. All of a sudden, a wave of calm came over me and my tears instantly stopped. I knew she was right - if the news was what I had assumed, I was going to have to be there for my family. And that meant NOT being such a basketcase. So Eric finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, I got off the phone with nurse Barb (or whoever it was at that point) and took a deep breath.
When Allan answered the phone, it was like swimming underwater and you can't quite hear everything clearly. I remember asking him how he was doing, I remember nodding my head and grabbing the door handle to step out of the car to have a private moment with my brother who is 1000 miles away. "Allan? Dad just died" were my exact words. I got off the phone with my brother and lost it. I've never known myself to sob like that before. I now truly know the meaning of "sob." And that sucks.
If anyone is reading this (dad, I know you are, so I'm sorry there are so many f-bombs), I hope you realize how much my dad meant to me. We may not have talked often, we may not have said much in each other's company, but I loved him wholly and deeply. I also hope you don't feel sorry for me - my dad wouldn't have wanted that. He would be proud that I'm doing something to get past this. It's going to be a long, tough road, but my dad always said "don't sweat the small stuff. What's the problem with that? It's ALLLL small stuff."
I loved you dad. I hope you know that.
My dad died tonight. The person who raised me to fight for what I believe in, the person who made me as strong as I am. The person who commanded respect when he walked into the room, not only because he was a huge guy, but because his personality and laughter were contagious. My dad was a wonderful person.
Is it really stupid that I'm afraid to delete his number from my cell phone? It's not that I'm sad to delete it. I'm literally afraid to delete it because that was how I last talked to him. What if I forget that conversation? And why the fuck didn't I tell him I loved him at the end of it?
It was weird coming to the part of someone's death when you get to go into the emergency room and talk to them. I kept thinking he was going to wake up. And the funny part was I didn't feel stupid talking to him at all. I felt like every time I ended my part of the "conversation" he was going to wake up and start in on his part. I made sure to cover his foot when I left because that and his arm were the only things not covered by the blankets. And his head. I didn't want him to be cold.
I guess he just dropped dead in the field he was working in. Which is better than taking the long way out of this world, I suppose. But god damnit, why? I keep looking around my parents' house and seeing all the things that remind me of him. I'm sitting in the stupid, beautiful kitchen he re-did all himself this past year typing on my parents' computer. At 1:43 in the morning. Because everytime I close my eyes, tears come out. When I'm awake and doing something, it's not so easy to cry.
I had my major breakdown in the parking lot of a hotel off Oralabor Road in Ankeny. I knew something was very wrong when my mom called during our Vocal Music meeting to say "Dad went down in a field, he's on his way to the hospital." I called Eric, who was luckily already home, to get things packed, we were heading home as soon as I could get there.
I hadn't heard anything from my mom after about 30 minutes, so I called her. It seemed like we could not drive fast enough. It didn't help we were battling rush hour traffic. She answered, but not really. All I could hear were sobs and then the call was lost. I called again and again, the call was lost. Finally, on the third try (dad, was that you?), a nurse named Barb answered the phone. She asked if I was the daughter. What kind of fucked up question is that? I thought. I answered yes, she asked me where I was. I told her pulling onto I-35 from Des Moines, we'd be there in two hours. She asked if I was driving - I said no, my husband was. Looking back, I see exactly where that was headed. I didn't at the time, I just remember feeling like my heart was going to explode and I might throw up all at the same time. When she told me I needed to pull over, I wanted to smash my fist through the fucking windshield. The only thing I could think of saying to her was, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" I felt bad, but I was so mad at her at that moment. So Nurse Barb from the emergency room, if you ever read this, I'm really sorry I swore at you.
Someone else got on the phone and told me I needed to take some deep breaths and calm down. At that moment, it seriously felt like I had a split personality. All of a sudden, a wave of calm came over me and my tears instantly stopped. I knew she was right - if the news was what I had assumed, I was going to have to be there for my family. And that meant NOT being such a basketcase. So Eric finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, I got off the phone with nurse Barb (or whoever it was at that point) and took a deep breath.
When Allan answered the phone, it was like swimming underwater and you can't quite hear everything clearly. I remember asking him how he was doing, I remember nodding my head and grabbing the door handle to step out of the car to have a private moment with my brother who is 1000 miles away. "Allan? Dad just died" were my exact words. I got off the phone with my brother and lost it. I've never known myself to sob like that before. I now truly know the meaning of "sob." And that sucks.
If anyone is reading this (dad, I know you are, so I'm sorry there are so many f-bombs), I hope you realize how much my dad meant to me. We may not have talked often, we may not have said much in each other's company, but I loved him wholly and deeply. I also hope you don't feel sorry for me - my dad wouldn't have wanted that. He would be proud that I'm doing something to get past this. It's going to be a long, tough road, but my dad always said "don't sweat the small stuff. What's the problem with that? It's ALLLL small stuff."
I loved you dad. I hope you know that.
And:
Yesterday I needed a baseball bat and something to beat the shit out of. Today I need about 10 shots of Bailey's. Tomorrow I'll probably feel like sky-diving and I hate it when I'm not in control.
The first time I drank Bailey's was with my dad. My grandmother, his mother, had died on my first day of college. He offered me some Bailey's and I said yes. Now I love Bailey's, but rarely drink. However, today would be nice. Just to take the edge off.
Last night, my brother and I looked through my dad's wallet and billfold. He had written a check out to Krieger's Flowers the day before he died. It was to buy my mom flowers for Valentine's Day - to be delivered the day after we bury him. Isn't that crazy? But that's dad - always showing up randomly when you're least expecting it. He did that once when Eric and I lived in the ghetto our first year in Des Moines. Then he left $40 on the endtable and we didn't find it until later that night. Always showing up when you least expect it.
Today is a lot harder than I ever imagined it. We go to the funeral home in less than 2 hours. My mom's mom is coming and my dad's brother, Steve. Steve's a great guy - he reminds me a lot of my dad.
I'm numb. But it's going to get better. I know that because my dad would never let it get worse.
The first time I drank Bailey's was with my dad. My grandmother, his mother, had died on my first day of college. He offered me some Bailey's and I said yes. Now I love Bailey's, but rarely drink. However, today would be nice. Just to take the edge off.
Last night, my brother and I looked through my dad's wallet and billfold. He had written a check out to Krieger's Flowers the day before he died. It was to buy my mom flowers for Valentine's Day - to be delivered the day after we bury him. Isn't that crazy? But that's dad - always showing up randomly when you're least expecting it. He did that once when Eric and I lived in the ghetto our first year in Des Moines. Then he left $40 on the endtable and we didn't find it until later that night. Always showing up when you least expect it.
Today is a lot harder than I ever imagined it. We go to the funeral home in less than 2 hours. My mom's mom is coming and my dad's brother, Steve. Steve's a great guy - he reminds me a lot of my dad.
I'm numb. But it's going to get better. I know that because my dad would never let it get worse.
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