My father passed away just ten days after the birth of my second son.
It was a pretty hard going birth with it all ending in my son being born by c-section because I wasn't progressing in labour. I was a little disappointed, but I knew there wasn't much more I could have done. In sharp contrast to the birth of my first son, I managed to recover quicker and we were out of hospital in just 3 days. (My first son was in SCBU for 2 weeks and I stayed with him.)
Going back to before the birth, my father had been diagnosed with leukemia about ten years or so ago. He'd been relatively active and fine for the first, I'd say, 5-6 years. The last 4 were tremendously hard on all of us. He went through all the treatment possible in hopes that it'd give him some sort of a remission. Some helped, some did not.
The last year of his life was the hardest of all. He rapidly declined in his health, and started to lose control of his hands and became quite forgetful. The family decided to have one last holiday with him and I'm glad we did! He said it was the best holiday he'd ever had. :) It was wonderful to share special time with him away from the home.
I must mention here that it was around this time that they'd decided bone marrow might be a good idea, and my father (although first against the idea) accepted the offer. He went through all the preliminary tests and they were not happy, as his remission wasn't as much as it needed it to be for the operation to be a success. So my father again tried whatever medication they gave him...to no avail. There was nothing more they could do for him. We knew we were losing him now.
So, a week after my son was born I got a call from my mum. She was crying and telling me that my dad was going down hill very quickly. I did not feel panic or urgency to see him at this time. It was the next day when my eldest brother called me that panic set in. My brother NEVER calls me ever! So to hear the urgency in his voice and his pleading for me to be there reverberated through every inch of me. I HAD to go see my dad.
So, just over a week after my c-section, my little family travelled on the train for 2 hours to see my dad. What I saw shocked me to my core! He was laying on the bed, unable to move very much and not able to speak. His breathing was shallow and laboured. He looked awful...not like the strong, vibrant, full of life man I knew him to be. It hurt so much seeing him like that. He managed to squeeze my hand and grab my long hair, but that was about as much communication as he could manage.
We tried to make him as comfortable as possible, playing him his favourite songs and sharing funny stories. I introduced him to his newest grandson, and it was a sweet moment where they both gazed at one another. My father was able to hold him in the one arm that was working for him.
As the time drew near for us to leave, I knew that would be the last time I'd see my father. We said our goodbyes amid tears of sorrow and heartache. I didn't want to leave him.
IN the middle of that night the phone rang. My father had gone.
Now what has this to do with choice? You must understand that in my journey it has EVERYTHING to do with it.
My father passed away in the September of 2010, and up until Christmas of that year I was fine. I had a new little one to take care of, and a delightful, full of beans 2 year old to try and keep a track of! Christmas was coming quick and we had lots to plan for and look forward to. It was a busy time.
Christmas passed and the aftermath was awful. My father's birthday is in January and BOOM, the grief caught up with me in a massive way. I became extremely angry and intolerant towards everything and my children suffered because of it. I just wanted the world to disappear and leave me alone. I wanted to hide in a dark room and speak to no one. Thankfully I had a great health visitor who recognised the need in me for time to grieve and arranged time with a counselor. The boys were found spaces at a nearby nursery so I could attend these sessions.
The sessions helped me to a certain degree, just talking things out really helped me to work out for myself what I needed to work on. One of the biggest AHAH!!! moments for me was when I realised that my attitude, my actions, the way I felt were choices I had made. I was choosing to give in to the anger, choosing to react in harsh ways to my children and choosing to let the grief fester instead of acknowledging it, looking at it positively and moving on.
I know what you are thinking, that it's all part of the process and I had a right to feel like I did. I agree with you. But I think that remaining like that for too long is actually detrimental to the whole process, never mind to the people around you!!! Not that grieving is a bad thing, or I'm trying to forget my dad quicker...more I'm trying to remember him in a positive light rather than dwelling in gloom that he isn't here anymore. He wouldn't have wanted that.
So once I knew it was a choice I started handling things better. It didn't happen over night that all was well...believe me I still have my moments even now where the anger just is there all of a sudden! But knowing that there is a choice in how I feel, react and behave has made a vast difference to how I face EVERYTHING! Exercise, for example, I can choose to do it and feel great about myself, or I can choose to not do it and impede my progress! I can choose to do the stack of dishes and enjoy the feeling of freedom, or I can leave them to stack up more and have them loom over me with a sense of doooooom, knowing they have to be done. It's all a choice in the end, and we all have that priviledge!
So what do you choose? I choose to be happy and I choose to make the right decisions to make me so!
I CAN DO THIS THING AND SO CAN YOU!!!!!!
