Two weeks ago my life forever changed
How ironic that on Gianna's 5 month b'day I posted on how my father was dying and a few hours after posting that the world as I knew it, changed forever.
My father, my hero, the first man I ever loved and the strongest influence in my life is gone and I never got to say goodbye to him. And he left w/o saying goodbye to me, his 'figlia mia' (my daughter in Italian). A piece of my heart died with him and I feel empty inside.
I have been walking around in a fog for the past 2 weeks and if it wasn't for my little Bear Cub (and Joe too), I wouldn't get up in the morning. She definitely has been a joy to me and she must wonder why her mommy is always crying when I hold her.
And the guilt is amazing -- oh I know you'll tell me I have nothing to feel guilty about, but I do anyway. The last time I spoke to him he asked me if I was coming back to the hospital, meanwhile I was there earlier but had left because my meter expired -- why didn't I just go put another quarter in the damn thing? Or let me get a friggin ticket -- who cares? The last thing I told him was 'Papa, it's 7:40 and visiting hours end in 20 minutes and I'll never make it on time. Besides, it's sleeting rain out and icy. I'll see you tomorrow.' Ok, he said. No, it wasn't ok because he didn't see me tomorrow.
I spoke to my mother earlier in the day on that day and he was doing ok, he ate some soup and was having trouble breathing, but she said he was alright. I tried calling later on and the phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing and I knew that something was wrong. My mother finally got to me at 4:15 and was crying and said he crashed and I ran out of here. I got to the hospital at 4:45 and I knew when I saw my aunt pacing back and forth that something happened. It was the longest train ride of my life and the whole time I kept hoping and praying that it was going to be ok when I got there. My father left at 4:25 -- I missed him by 20 minutes.
And he took a piece of my heart that will never be replaced with him. My mother, bless her Irish heart, is doing just fine (and so is my sister). I'm the mess. I was the last one to leave the funeral parlor and the cemetary. I was the one who had several breakdowns in the funeral parlor. My father didn't get to see his Gigi for the last 2 months and will never see her again. He's missing her eat peas and squash for the first time, her finding her toes and sucking away on them, her laughing a real laugh and screaming at the top of her lungs. He's missing everything.
This is the happiest and saddest time of my life at the same time -- how is that possible?
Not for nothing but you would think that after growing up with my father having a heart condition and being in and out of the hospital, that I would be prepared for this. There is no way to prepare yourself for this. Deep down I knew this day was coming and some point, but I never thought it would be now. He ALWAYS rallied back and he didn't this time. That was the first thing Joe said when he got to the hospital and he broke down.
The first thing my mother said when she walked in the funeral parlor was '41 years we're married and the man never bought me flowers, look at all the flowers he got'!!! She's a strong woman, my mother, and I know she misses my father, but she's glad that she was with him and that he didn't suffer and that he went peacefully. She saw him take his last breath and then the defibrilator zapped him twice, but she knew. The dr's had to work on him for 45 minutes, but she knew. She had almost 42 years with him and it has to be lonely w/o him.
I can't go into their house. I've been making my mother come to my house. I know he hasn't been there for the past 2 months, but that's different. I still expect to go to the hospital after work.
Today is my second day back here and it's the hardest thing I did. I wasn't ready to deal with 'reality' and the 'real world'. When I was home, I could let the machine pick up the phone and I didn't have to deal w/anyone. Not here.
My father is a funny man. He was Vidal Sasson -- he used to constantly tell me how to wear my hair and that it looked like a 'rat's nest'. He would argue w/my cousin on the type of pantyhose/stockings we should wear and feminine products!!! She wanted to put tampons in his casket!! He loved the Mets -- always rooted for the underdog -- and was devasted when they let him go 2 years ago (he worked in the parking lot for 15 years). But he rooted for the Yankees in any playoffs/World Series games. He loved any kind of sporting -- he would even watch pool on tv!! He also was a great bowler and won a car back in the day.
He had a great sense of humor and loved to joke around and would get annoyed if anyone couldn't take a joke. He would follow me around when he retired because he was bored. I was his 'mini me'. My cousin called us 'the twins'. Gianna has his nose!!!
Dominic the Donkey I called him because he was such a thick-headed Calabrese!! He was testadura Big Time!! His famous line was 'I'm telling ya', even if he had no clue what the heck he was talking about -- case in point the hair, stockings and tampons.
Even though he had 2 daughters, I was 'daddy's little girl' because my sister is my mother's mini me! I was called 'Little Nick' by his co-workers because I looked so much like him.
I cannot tell you how much it hurts and I laugh when eveyrone says 'it'll get better' -- yes, maybe it will, but right now it's not better. Right now it's very hard and I miss him so much. I cannot fathom that I will never see him again. I just can't.
I'm sorry this is so long. And since I can't see what I'm typing right now, I better tell you all how much I appreciate all your support and words of encouragement and for being here for me and for asking about me. It means a lot to me and you are all very special -- it doesn't matter if we met or not -- I consider you friends and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart all your prayers and good wishes.
My father, my hero, the first man I ever loved and the strongest influence in my life is gone and I never got to say goodbye to him. And he left w/o saying goodbye to me, his 'figlia mia' (my daughter in Italian). A piece of my heart died with him and I feel empty inside.
I have been walking around in a fog for the past 2 weeks and if it wasn't for my little Bear Cub (and Joe too), I wouldn't get up in the morning. She definitely has been a joy to me and she must wonder why her mommy is always crying when I hold her.
And the guilt is amazing -- oh I know you'll tell me I have nothing to feel guilty about, but I do anyway. The last time I spoke to him he asked me if I was coming back to the hospital, meanwhile I was there earlier but had left because my meter expired -- why didn't I just go put another quarter in the damn thing? Or let me get a friggin ticket -- who cares? The last thing I told him was 'Papa, it's 7:40 and visiting hours end in 20 minutes and I'll never make it on time. Besides, it's sleeting rain out and icy. I'll see you tomorrow.' Ok, he said. No, it wasn't ok because he didn't see me tomorrow.
I spoke to my mother earlier in the day on that day and he was doing ok, he ate some soup and was having trouble breathing, but she said he was alright. I tried calling later on and the phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing and I knew that something was wrong. My mother finally got to me at 4:15 and was crying and said he crashed and I ran out of here. I got to the hospital at 4:45 and I knew when I saw my aunt pacing back and forth that something happened. It was the longest train ride of my life and the whole time I kept hoping and praying that it was going to be ok when I got there. My father left at 4:25 -- I missed him by 20 minutes.
And he took a piece of my heart that will never be replaced with him. My mother, bless her Irish heart, is doing just fine (and so is my sister). I'm the mess. I was the last one to leave the funeral parlor and the cemetary. I was the one who had several breakdowns in the funeral parlor. My father didn't get to see his Gigi for the last 2 months and will never see her again. He's missing her eat peas and squash for the first time, her finding her toes and sucking away on them, her laughing a real laugh and screaming at the top of her lungs. He's missing everything.
This is the happiest and saddest time of my life at the same time -- how is that possible?
Not for nothing but you would think that after growing up with my father having a heart condition and being in and out of the hospital, that I would be prepared for this. There is no way to prepare yourself for this. Deep down I knew this day was coming and some point, but I never thought it would be now. He ALWAYS rallied back and he didn't this time. That was the first thing Joe said when he got to the hospital and he broke down.
The first thing my mother said when she walked in the funeral parlor was '41 years we're married and the man never bought me flowers, look at all the flowers he got'!!! She's a strong woman, my mother, and I know she misses my father, but she's glad that she was with him and that he didn't suffer and that he went peacefully. She saw him take his last breath and then the defibrilator zapped him twice, but she knew. The dr's had to work on him for 45 minutes, but she knew. She had almost 42 years with him and it has to be lonely w/o him.
I can't go into their house. I've been making my mother come to my house. I know he hasn't been there for the past 2 months, but that's different. I still expect to go to the hospital after work.
Today is my second day back here and it's the hardest thing I did. I wasn't ready to deal with 'reality' and the 'real world'. When I was home, I could let the machine pick up the phone and I didn't have to deal w/anyone. Not here.
My father is a funny man. He was Vidal Sasson -- he used to constantly tell me how to wear my hair and that it looked like a 'rat's nest'. He would argue w/my cousin on the type of pantyhose/stockings we should wear and feminine products!!! She wanted to put tampons in his casket!! He loved the Mets -- always rooted for the underdog -- and was devasted when they let him go 2 years ago (he worked in the parking lot for 15 years). But he rooted for the Yankees in any playoffs/World Series games. He loved any kind of sporting -- he would even watch pool on tv!! He also was a great bowler and won a car back in the day.
He had a great sense of humor and loved to joke around and would get annoyed if anyone couldn't take a joke. He would follow me around when he retired because he was bored. I was his 'mini me'. My cousin called us 'the twins'. Gianna has his nose!!!
Dominic the Donkey I called him because he was such a thick-headed Calabrese!! He was testadura Big Time!! His famous line was 'I'm telling ya', even if he had no clue what the heck he was talking about -- case in point the hair, stockings and tampons.
Even though he had 2 daughters, I was 'daddy's little girl' because my sister is my mother's mini me! I was called 'Little Nick' by his co-workers because I looked so much like him.
I cannot tell you how much it hurts and I laugh when eveyrone says 'it'll get better' -- yes, maybe it will, but right now it's not better. Right now it's very hard and I miss him so much. I cannot fathom that I will never see him again. I just can't.
I'm sorry this is so long. And since I can't see what I'm typing right now, I better tell you all how much I appreciate all your support and words of encouragement and for being here for me and for asking about me. It means a lot to me and you are all very special -- it doesn't matter if we met or not -- I consider you friends and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart all your prayers and good wishes.
