WHAT THE ACTUAL F&^K?????

This year, 2014, is suppose to be the year when all becomes better. It is suppose to be the climb up and out of the fog. The pain experienced after Dad is indescribable. The hole that is left is as gaping and wide today as it was when Dad was stolen from us. Time has not healed. But this year we were adapting. We were renewing the way we lived. Me and Luke were engaged and we bought our first home together in June and we were planning our wedding at the end of this year: 23rd December 2014 and our honeymoon to New York!!!! We had the perfect lives, the perfect relationship. We had everything. We had happiness and each other and we had our home and a future as man and wife. We had it all. HAD.

Luke, My Perryman has been killed. There is no more us. There are no more words of love. There are no more tears of laughter. There are no more crazy dances or our silly little private jokes and sayings. There is no more warmth. There are no more smiles or promises for our future. There are no more talks of, 'when we're married'. or 'on our honeymoon,' or 'next year we will...' or 'let's go and do...' There are no more hugs or kisses or curling up on the sofa today. There are no more races into bed. There is no more future.

There is darkness and fear and pain. A pain even more painful than what I experienced with Dad. I didn't think it was possible to hurt more than I did after Dad. But God was I wrong. I didn't even know it was possible to feel this amount of pain and still stand. This pain is shattering. My heart, my soul, my love, my everything that makes me me is shattered. It's gone. I feel sick; the kind of sick that feels like an anchor in the pit of my stomach, that's been pieced through my heart dragging my heart downwards. It's a hard block that is so heavy it steals my breath away and I have to fight to breathe. And it hurts. Oh God it hurts. But ask me how I'm doing and I'll tell you I'm Ok.

Luke was 26. 26!!!! How the fuck is that fair? He is the most amazing man to have ever entered into my life and I love him. My whole future was Luke. He was my everything and I love him with everything and I was so lucky to have him. He was my everything. And now he is gone and I am left with nothing. The house is filled with emptiness. It's a lost space and what am I suppose to do? I know that time does not heal and that scares the shit out of me. When people tell me that it will get better in time I actually have to hold back the urge to scream at them. TIME DOESN'T HEAL SHIT!!!! It's been 4 weeks today since Luke was stolen from me and that crushing, smashing stabbing feeling of that night is still as vivid and jammed in my throat tonight as it was four weeks ago. Time does not heal, so do not believe the lie that it does.

Losing your future is completely different to losing my Dad. And unless you've been in this exact same position: 69 days from being married to your best friend with your whole lives ahead of you, only to have that stripped away in a blink of an eye, do not tell me you know my pain. Because you do not. You can not even begin to imagine it. You may feel a huge loss because he was a friend but he was not your future. You may feel like you understand because you've lost a loved one but you don't know shit. Unless you are stood here in my shoes, in this life with the love that Luke and I had, please do not tell me you understand. Because I am living this pain and this life and even I do not understand. Please be there for me with hugs and kindness and the jokes that we always laugh at but don't tell me it will be ok. It will never be ok. Will I survive this? Yes- simply because there is no other option. But life will not be ok and I will not be ok,

Luke's death has demonstrated that even in an amazing relationship like ours, where we told each other daily and repeatedly how much we loved one another, you will ask, "Did they know how much I loved them?" Or "Why did we have that silly argument?" Or "Why did we sit on the sofa watching soaps instead of having amazing sex?" Or "Why when he came in from nights at 3am, did I choose to sleep and not attempt to be intimate and make love?" And it's at this moment you need to have a word with yourself. It's because you're human!!! It's part of a relationship, just relaxing in each others' company. Why did I choose to sleep at 3am? Because that's life and I had to be up for work at 7. Romantic? No. Practical and part of life? Yes. Does that make me a bad fiance? Does it mean I didn't love him? No. And those moments do NOT define the love between two people. It doesn't define the love or the value of US. I just have to hope and pray that Luke did know how much I loved him because there is nothing that I can do to change that now and constantly analysing every single part of the relationship is not going to fix a thing. I know that I showed him I loved him. I hope it was enough.

The majority of the support and love shown in those first two weeks was phenomenal and a huge help but it does filter away because life takes over. It's hard to grasp that but time does not stand still and neither do the lives of your friends. I will say, however, that if you're going to support someone grieving, don't do it because you want gossip and something to talk about. Don't ask for a catch up because you want to know the ins and outs of what has happened. Because the truth is, if you're a real friend you'll already know. Don't ask for a catch up so you can see how I'm doing. Because again, if you're a friend you'll know exactly how I'm doing. Even if I tell you I'm fine or ok with a smile on my face. You will know how I am doing.

Death is a minefield. There is the emotional side. The physical side. And the paperwork. Man alive is there a lot of paperwork. The cancellation conversations are the hardest. Explaining again and again and again to different people; to the banks, to car insurances, to mortgage companies, to the church to cancel a wedding, to the venue, to the florists, to the wedding car company, to the bridal shop...to everyone why life has to be cancelled is emotionally and physically draining. You become the person comforting those you're telling because they find that news upsetting. HOW DOES THAT WORK???? But then the banks, and insurances and mortgage companies require evidence and need details and documents and forms to be signed and counter signed and original copies and certified copies of other documents to be sent and then more phone calls follow that up. If drowning in grief doesn't kill me then drowning in the paperwork certainly will! So much to do but no energy to do it. Paperwork that needs to be filled in accurately is hard at the best of times, but when you're running basic survival skills on auto-pilot with a blank mind it's suffocating. I'm coping by using post it notes but even this method has begun to fail me. What will I do once all of the paperwork is done? What is there to do then?

The best advice I have received...

"Do not think about the future. Live in the now. Think of this minute and what you will do."

This has helped. Living by the hour is hard, but living by the minute I can do. I say...what do I need to do right now? And sometimes the answer is to curl up on the sofa and hide away under the duvet. That is ok. Sometimes it is stay here and hug monkey and cry. That is ok. Sometimes it is..put my cup in the sink. Or put on the kettle. Or re-fill the hot water bottle. This is ok too. It may even be as simple as...move - move to the other sofa, to the kitchen, to upstairs. These things may not seem like big steps or anything challenging but when your everything has been violently turned into nothing, these things are huge. The biggest and hardest struggle of the everyday routines is showering. Silly really isn't it? But showering signifies the start of another new day without Luke. It signifies the beginning of yet another day that Luke will not see and I have to fight through. Luke should be here.

I find myself asking again...where does God fit into all of this? Right in the fucking middle is my conclusion. I have faith that there is some reason for all of this. Something that none of us can see or understand. If there isn't a reason then this really is a fucked up world and there really is little point in the things that we do.

Luke should be here. I should be cuddled up on the sofa with him, laid on his chest with his arms around me. I should be telling him that I love him a little bit...A LOT...but instead I'm sat next to his casket. And I'm reminded of how cruel and unpredictable life is. Things are always too good to be true. When everything is perfect, something will always go wrong. :'(

Life really does go on

So I figured I should write again. It has been an exceptionally long time since the last time I wrote. I'm not sure how life has gone on but it has. It will be two years this July since Dad was taken from us. All the people who state that time is a healer and that the feeling gets better in time are wrong. time doesn't heal. It doesn't get easier and the pain does not lessen. What time does is it gives you no option but to find a way to adapt and change to the new feeling. It gives you no option but to find a new way of getting through the day. It hurts as much today as it did all those months ago. There is such a huge whole in the family it is quite hard to explain. It just isn't the same.

Lots has happened since Dad died, which is why the title of this blog is "life really does go on." We have learned that. Even when you think the world should stop. It doesn't. Life goes on regardless of the tragedies or pain. It just goes on and we have no choice but to get swept along with it. 

There have been some very happy moments, which makes me feel guilty because I don't think I should feel happiness ever again. My younger brother became a Dad. My big brother graduated from university with a first degree and I got engaged! I have also bought a house with Luke this very week! These are some great things that have happened and I am happy, but at the same time it is gutting to know that Dad hasn't seen any of it. It is unfair knowing this. Sometimes I forget that he wasn't here for these momentous occasions and hat hurts more than I can describe in words. My Dad won't be walking me down the aisle or giving me away. I won't get to hear his father of the bride speech or see his face when he sees me in my dress! I won't get to show him our new home. Dad didn't even see the home that I am currently living in with Luke. How unfair is life? Yet with this unfairness comes many things that I can be grateful for and it is these things that I thank God for. It is these things that reminds me that God hasn't forgotten us. 

So where does God fit into life and Cancer? I honestly don't know. He didn't heal my Dad like he was suppose to. So I don't know. I haven't given up though because life will be full of tragedies and pain, and it is important to have faith.

A letter to my Dad

You shouldn't have been taken. You should have been saved. You should have been healed. There are so many things that I want to say to you and to share with you. There are still so many days when all I want is a hug from my Dad. But you've been stolen from us and I'm not sure what to do. There are things I'd love to tell you because they make me laugh and I wish so much that I could see you laugh again too. I'm into my third year of teaching. It's the same as always! I sometimes wonder what advice you would be giving me. I feel as though I just want to quit and run away to another country to experience something different and to see the world, and although I think I can hear your voice saying, "you go for it girl," I'm also pretty sure you'd be making me think carefully about any big changes. So I'm waiting to see how this week pans out. If it's the same as always...I'm going to start making a move. I really hope you're going to be there looking out for me.

I'd love for you to come back to us. For this to all be a big mistake. I know God doesn't make mistakes but I'm hoping that he'll do a double check and realise He made one this time when He took you from us. And that God will work some miracles and give you back to us healed.

Your chair still has the indentation of you in it. Sometimes when I get up for work I keep hoping I'll look in the living room and see you there. But of course you never are anymore and you never will be again. I wish God would give you back. I wish I could tell you all about my travel plans to America next summer and then tell you all the crazy things Luke and I got up to. But I can't. I can't see you laughing anymore. I want you to know how much we all love you; how fantastic you were as a Dad; how home just isn't the same without you here.


I miss you so much Dad. I love you forever and always xxxxx

Finding a way to bring Dad home...

Dad has been gone for far too long and I think it is time that You gave him back. You've had your time with my Dad. We've had our time with him gone. And now we would all like him home, with us, where he belongs. My Dad's chair sits emtpy when it should be filled with his body. Our house is quiet, when it should be filled with his laughter. His motorbike is still, when it should be zooming at great speeds with Dad's riding. 

You have the ability to turn back time and make this all a dream. You can alter the world and bring Dad home, where he belongs. You don't need to have my Dad just yet because we need him. I would give you anything, God, if you could bring Dad back to us all healed from the cancer. You can make this Dad-shaped absence all a bad dream, where we can wake up and see Dad back again.

Please find a way to bring my Dad home.....

Life is a sweet lie...death is the painful truth

I don't know what to write. I don't know what to say. My Dad was suppose to be healed. He was suppose to be fixed and cured. On Monday 16th July this year my Dad, who is the most amazing man ever, died. That week is such a blur that it's hard to recall what happened when. It's hard to recall what was said between us.
My Mum and Dad had been on a holiday to Cornwall. They'd had a good time and although dad had some really bad days he had managed. He had started to have difficulties swallowing food, no matter how soft it was and he was losing weight. When they came back from their holiday, I remember dad looking quite frail but we all thought that it was because he'd been walking loads and doing a lot; that maybe he was just exhausted and needed a rest. Dad's pain began to get worse, so he phoned St Barnabas hospice for help. They had helped him before, so we were all hoping they would help him again.
We were expecting Dad to go in and get his pain meds adjusted and then for him to be out in a week or so. He went in on the Thursday 5th July. They had started to sort out his meds and he was laughing and joking with us. Yes he was still in excrutiating pain and I hated seeing him hurting so much but we all thought he was coming home. On the 13th July Mum got a phonecall and I left work early. The doctor had seen dad and it was bad news. They explained that Dad was deteriorating very quickly and that we should prepare for the worst. I asked how long they thought he had and the nurse explained that they could not give a time because everyone is different. I asked whether they were talking months or weeks. She said, 'You'd be lucky if it was weeks.'  I am pretty sure that I forgot how to breathe and I wanted to say something but the huge lump in my throat stopped me.

I remember going back into the room with Dad. He looked so frail. He was chatting to us, although he was drifting in and out of consciousness because of the drugs. He cracked a few jokes. I was hoping so much that the nurses had got it wrong. It was hard to talk to Dad because I couldn't control the wobble in my voice and I didn't want him to hear that I was upset. I prayed so hard that night for my Dad to be ok. We went back on Saturday and he wasn't much better. He told me that he loved me. I told him that I loved him. Again it was so hard not to cry. We had joked previously that no one wants a bunch of bawlers at their bedside. As I sat there holding his hand I prayed for God to give my Dad his love, to feel peace and to be fixed. I have no idea whether any of it happened. I know that God didn't fix my Dad.

On Saturday evening I text my Dad telling him that I loved him so much and that I was praying for him. I wasn't expecting a reply but he did reply. I cried so hard because I knew that this would be the last text that I would get. I still have his text on my phone but I can't read it yet. It makes me cry so much. I love my Dad and he is the best Dad ever.

On Sunday 15th we all went to the hospice. We moved Dad into a private room. He was in so much pain but he had been able to eat some grapes, so I thought that we had got lucky and God was actually doing something. But Dad didn't get any better from that point. Mum and I stayed at the hospice that night. I didn;t want to leave him. He shouldn't have to do anything on his own. He thanked me for staying and said that he loved me and gave me a kiss. Mum and I swapped shifts in the night so that she could sleep. I held his hand.
On Monday 16th he wasn't able to stand by himself anymore because he just wasn't strong enough. He was all bone. It was so odd. It had all happened so quickly. He only went in for pain relief.

Dad started to become restless and wanted to go to the toilet but he wasn't strong enough to push the wee out. So the nurse wanted to put in a catheter. She said Icould stay in the room but I said to said that I would leave, so he could have his dignity. Mum went in at that point and I had breakfast that the nurses gave me. Once they had got Dad dressed, I went back in and we were all talking. Dad wanted to be in the chair so we got him in it. Dad was very restless. He wanted to be out of the chair and it took a lot of nurses to fight him back into it. The nurse had previously explained that towards the end of life people get extremely restless and start to fight it. This was what we thought was happening to Dad and it was heart breaking to see. This was my Dad. I wanted to fight for him but there was nothing that Icould do.

Dad was sedated because of his pain, so they gave him some stronger pain killers. Dad didn't speak again. He didn't smile again. He didn't laugh again. He didn't tell us another joke. I was holding his hand all the time and talking to him. I told him that everything was going to be ok and that it was ok. At 6.58pm my Dad stopped breathing. He was so still. He took his final breath seconds later and a huge Dad shaped hole has been left. I wish so much that he would come back and fill it; that this nightmare would end and my Dad would be alive and well. I miss you so much Dad. xxxxxxxxxx

A whirlwind of a moment...

I can't remember the last thing that I posted. Life moves so fast and one day quickly becomes a week and then a month and before you know it...time has escaped.

My dad isn't receiving anymore treatment despite the cancer now, 'behaving aggressively' and there being a build up of fluid. Mum is now on sabatical leave to spend her time with Dad. Dad is also now on oxygen to help him with his breathing because the cancer has pretty much consumed the lung. 

I feel shattered. I hate seeing my dad on the oxygen and I hate not being able to do anything when he is screaming in pain. I just wish this wasn't happening. :( I just wish this would all go away so I can have my Dad back. He's starting to look as though he is losing weight. I looked at a picture of us from before we found out about all of this and he looks wuite different. It's scary seeing the change.

I don't like what is coming either. I know there is no point stressing over the future because it is not here at the moment but when I see dad on one of his bad days, all I can think of is how much worse it's going to get. I know things will get worse. I know there will be more pain and I know that there is nothing I can do to protect him. God is erm...well I'm not sure what he's doing at the moment. I do know that considering we had a rubbish prognosis, my Dad is still here with us and still doing things on good days.

Life just goes so quickly...I want it to slow down so that we have loads of time with Dad. I can't imagine our family without him. I don't know how Mum will cope. I hope she will keep going but I don't know if she will. There are far too many, 'I don't knows!!'

 

Life is ups and downs

So lots of things have been happening. My Dad has been to hospital several times to have operations to kill the nerves causing pain. The first time it did not work and Dad was in agonising pain and he had to go back in almost straight away. He's now had four operations. He went to the oncologist recently and the oncologist has now said that he won't offer any more treatments because the cancer is too far progressed for chemo to make any difference. The nurse also said that dad's oxygen levels are too low. At the moment he does not need to have extra oxygen but his breathing is getting worse. Dad said that it is getting worse because the cancer is filling up the space of his lung. He also said that he doesn't feel as though he has his ten year plan left in him. That is really hard to take in. It's all a little too much to take in. I knew that Dad wouldn't want to take anymore treatment but I never thought that the offer of treatment would be taken away. That isn't good at all. Dad said that he isn't giving in and giving up but that he wants to enjoy what is left.

We're talking about his funeral and he found a lovely poem but Mum doesn't want to acknowledge the situation which is frustrating. Dad didn't chooset his and he doesn't have a choice to ignore it, so why should Mum? I love her to bits but she needs to start facing things.

Dad has an appointment next week with the nurse who will discuss with him the Do Not Resuscitate form and the will to live form. Again, mum doesn't want a part of it. I said to Dad that I would be there if he wanted a hand to hold.

I don't want my Dad to die. I can see the coming months becoming harder and harder. I am not looking forward to it at all. :(