Feelings

I can't really describe what it's like to go home and see my dad. There's so much anger and sorrow there... anger at God and sorrow for my dad. He lost all his walking abilities, lost his long-term memory in a lot of areas, lost his ability to follow more than 30 minutes of conversation or plot lines, lost the ability to sit up for more than an hour a day, and more recently, lost his peripheral vision in his right eye. I guess I just don't get it. Give the poor man a break. And what hurts him, hurts me. It's so hard to watch him, groaning from pain, depressed to the depths about his state of being, trying to figure out if it'd be better to die or wait for some kind of improvement - though he doesn't really have an option there. He's got some purpose if he's here, right? I guess he's providing his doctor a job... being a buddy to me... being a distraction for mom... I dunno... There's a part of me that wishes he could just leave this earth and stop suffering... but then there's a part of me that doesn't want to let go. There's also the part of me that's constantly questioning, "why?"

I still haven't really written about my grandpa... it still hasn't hit me yet. It was weird when Bob and Carol came down - I didn't really even notice my grandpa wasn't there... He was usually sleeping if we were talking anymore. I still can't believe he's gone, though. It almost feels like it's just not true. Like anyday now, when I go down to visit, he'll be there. But he won't. No more counting cards in hearts games. No more sneaking cookies and ice cream behind grandma's back. No more walks in the park or to Jack in the box. No more Christmas games where you guess the song from the picture. No more thank you cards and birthday cards written in his half-way legible writing. No more sending stamps and seeing them piled all over his desk. No more, "Vanessa, you're a good girl. And you're gonna do just fine." I never wanted those to be goodbye statements. No more horrible puns or lame jokes. No more fascinating questions. How do you fill the chunk of your heart that someone steals when they leave you? Sure, you go on and in time it heals somewhat... But still...you're never the same.

I wonder what my families in Nicaragua and Costa Rica are doing. They too left holes in my heart... I just wish I could visit them and spend some time with them. One thing that learning to love does to you - sets you up for a lot of broken hearts. I know they say "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" and while I agree, it doesn't make the heartache any easier.

I hate change... it affects me in the deepest ways. And there's just so much change going on in my life right now. I just don't know what to do with it all. My family is changing. My friends are changing. My beliefs are changing. My life is changing. For someone who doesn't take change well, this is not a prime time in my life. All the while, I'm trying to keep my head above the ground... So much going on in my heart and head...

And yet, even though I feel like this, I feel like I'm screaming, falling helplessly down to the ground without a parachute and no one believes me. Or rather, I don't believe me. There's a voice in my head saying, "Life's tough. Suck it up. Stop complaining - your life is so much easier than so many others' around the world. You have nothing to be sad about. At least you have people who love you and you love. At least you knew your grandpa. And your parents. At least you can sit there and articulate your thoughts on the internet, in the comfort of your warm home on your couch, in California, with a drivers license, car, food, water, medicine, health insurance... the list goes on and on."

When do you stop being somewhat paralyzed by your feelings and get on with life? Granted, I'm turning in all my assignments and showing up for work each day and continuing with my life... but all the while, there's this undertone of pain... a lot of time it's released in aggression... or it's internalized as guilt, dissappointment or insecurity. Will I never again be the optimistic, world-loving, trusting, happy Vanessa? Will it just take time? I guess when optimism gets clobbered with reality, it takes a little longer to get back on it's horse. For now, I'll just let the tears trickle down my face, leaving tracks of mascara on my cheeks. I'll sleep a little longer and pray that the next morning will bring me safely to a better day than the day before. Each day holds beauty... maybe each day's beauty will soften the hurt in the depths of my soul.