I hate this blog

Seems like the only time I ever make time to come in here and do this anymore is when I have a major complaint or I'm grieving. And this sucks because this is the latter.

My father passed away last night after a months long battle with multiple infections that he kept picking up at rehabilitation facilities. Had he not had multiple myeloma (read: cancer) this may not have happened, but he did so here we are. The thing we were all focused on was getting him back on his feet after the broken hip in December, then getting over this infection, then that infection, then this other infection...all the while the cancer, which couldn't be treated until all this other crap was taken care of, was in the background silently making it harder and harder for Dad to fight back. He'd been on life support for two weeks and there was nothing more we, or he, could do. So last night we said good-bye while John Coltrane played him out in style.

I've known for a while that this was coming, but the little girl in me kept hoping that my Daddy was going to surprise everyone and pull through. That they were going to get the ventilator out of his throat and he was going to start breathing normally, that today they'd try to ease off on the pain reliever and he'd start to stir, and that after a couple days he'd be up and talking to us. I wanted so much for that to happen. But it didn't.

My Dad wasn't the easiest person to live with. He was very quiet, and spoke very little. His use of the silent treatment wouldn't seem like much considering this, but it was pretty pronounced. He was a jazz musician and didn't have a whole lot of appreciation for music that was played the same way twice (or the music I played over and over in my room!) But he was always there for me, and he always wanted what was best for me, and he loved me and I knew it. He certainly loved my son, maybe a little bit because they looked so much alike.

What can I say that I haven't said before? This sucks. It's awful. I'm broken-hearted for so many reasons. I don't know that I ever really got to know my father- he was a private person even with family.  I just scanned my Google Photos and there are so few where my Dad is the main focus of the picture. Most of the time he was just in the background, watching what was going on. I wish I had more pictures of my Dad, but the truth is being in the background was kind of how he was- always there, quietly observing, chiming in when he felt the need to which wasn't that often.

I think that's what makes this the hardest. My Dad was in (the first) rehab for his broken limb last Christmas. It was weird him not being there. The conversation level wasn't much different. The food wasn't much different. The number of presents and laughs wasn't different. But what was different is that Dad wasn't there in the background, just being there. That steadfast presence I always felt was gone. And now he's really gone and it doesn't seem real at all.

Dad wasn't big into sports like most dads. Father's Day cards were always a challenge because he never fit that stereotypical Dad mold. The thing that I really associate with my Dad is music. He played woodwinds (like, all of them), and composed, and arranged, and conducted. He gifted us his old turntable and speakers and receiver. The speakers were built for him back in the 1950's or something, and are so big I could still fit inside of one. I told him we were thinking about buying a piano and he said, "Just take ours." (To be fair, I'm pretty sure the upright was my Mom's and the baby grand we sold over 25 years ago was my Dad's, so he gave us my Mom's piano.) The books and magazines he read were all about music. He spent hours watching YouTube videos of jazz players. He was a professional musician from the time he was 15 years old. When I see musical notes, I think of my Dad.

I'm still in the numbness phase. Lots of memories floating up to the top of my consciousness. Lots of wishing I'd wake up already because my Daddy can't be gone. Lots of wishing I could hug him again and tell him I love him.

And....I Forget

I had a great idea for a blog post ten minutes ago in the bedroom...and now it's gone. Oh, well. I'll try a little free-flow writing and see if my brain can end up there again.

I made myself a promise that I would try to be more positive and let go of my hate this year. I would say anger, because that's more what I need to let go of since I don't really hate, but anger can be a good emotion and frankly, mine isn't going anywhere. I'd also say resolution instead of promise, but I stopped making those years ago. Resolutions most people don't keep, and while a lot of them don't keep promises, either, I'm much more likely to keep a promise.

Of course, Google Blogger isn't letting me load pictures and I just cast my laptop aside with an "I hate you," so clearly this is going to be a challenge for me.

Getting back to the topic at hand, I made a promise to be more positive, but you can't just flip a switch and go from being the person who professed extreme dislike for Barbara Streisand because of so many legitimate reasons to being a person who can sit and listen to her music...especially when the reasons to dislike still seem so legit. But honestly, is Babs feeling the sting of my ire? Hell no. The woman doesn't even know I exist and she wouldn't give a tuppence if she did. The only person I'm hurting is myself carrying around all that negativity. So I need to stop that.

I need to laugh more. I need to listen to happier music. I need to rant less and let go of my negativity because I'm too stressed.

 

Well, that's happy music and makes me laugh. Check and Check!

                         
I know I've touched on this before, but I'm a bit of a negative person. I see the best in people, usually, until I get to know them and they start to annoy me (lol), but I almost always see the worst in situations. I immediately think, "This can't be done because of X,Y, and Z" instead of  thinking, "This could totally be possible if A, B and C!" I try to think the latter, and if I'm consciously thinking about it I do, but...Geez is this hard. Changing the way you think isn't easy. The fact that I am actively trying to change should say a lot about me, at least. I see something about myself I don't like, and I am trying to improve myself.

Which miraculously made my brain remember what I was going to write about in the first place. Woohoo!

My diabetes (no, I didn't forget that this is a blog about living with diabetes. I'm not that old!) has of late been kind of borderline. I'm not doing bad, but I'm not doing good. What is that? Fair? I'm doing fair with it. And fair is frankly not good enough for me. I'm also over weight and I need to lose somewhere between 20 and 30 pounds before I won't actively fantasize about destroying my bathroom scale with a baseball bat a la Office Space.

A great way to get rid of stress!

Now before you all jump into the comments and tell me I look fine or great or I'm beautiful and shouldn't buy into skinny jeans, do me a favor and shut up. I appreciate that I probably don't look as bad as I think I do, but telling me so is doing a whole lot of nothing for me. I need to lose weight. I need to be in better shape. My health is affected by the extra weight I carry around. So telling me I'm not fat isn't helping me because frankly if I start to believe it I won't do anything about the weight I have gained.  Eating less, eating right and exercising 3-5 times a week- these are my goals, and I am not doing it because I want to fit into smaller jeans (that's a lie), I'm doing it because I want to be healthy (which is true). So, strangely, in this case, I think being negative is going to produce a positive.

And now we've come full circle, and I seriously didn't even plan that. Bam!