Yesterday, Sunday, the I took the kids to see Dan for the last time. We overslept, well not really, but I had wanted to get up earlier than I did. We were rushing around with breakfast, getting dressed. I was about to lose it. Justin was there, and went with us. God love him, he seems perfect, except that he is often late. I am the person that has to be early. And, we only had an hour to spend with Dan. I didn't want that cut short because we were late. I'd given the kids warning...we're leaving in 45 minutes, 30 minutes...these warnings had been for him too. He freaking got in the shower at the time I had wanted to leave. I was a wreck and seriously wanted to tear into him, but that wouldn't have been helpful, so instead I cried. I cried all the way there. We were only 5 minutes late, and once we arrived I realized there was clearly no rush, and they let us stay as long as we wanted, which, with 3 young kids, was about 1.5 hours.
I thought long and hard about letting them see him. When I was little, I dealt with alot of death, alot of mourning, and it scared the shit out of me for the longest time. I didn't want to traumatize my kids in ANY way, but they are three very distinct people and are dealing with this in very different ways.
Side note: He will be cremated, so was not embalmed.
They wheeled his body (trying to use "body" and not his name or daddy to help us all detach, but it's hard) into a small visiting room. They had put a nice blanket over his body so that all we could see was his face. As I got closer to the room, kids and Justin behind me, I could see in, and saw the blanket first and then his face and I lost it. The person that worked there asked me if I wanted him to stay in the room with me and I told him no, but that I needed time by myself before my kids came in. So he left, shut the door, and I just nearly lost my mind. Of course, I had been with him when he died, and saw his body then, but there is NOTHING like the finality of death as seeing the persons body, with no evidence of life left. And this was my once best friend, the father of my kids, who I had sacrificed myself for, dead, in front of me, and all I could think of was how much I fucking missed him. God, that feeling was just horrible. Actually, there were no words for what I felt at that point.
Once I gathered myself, I looked more closely at him. They'd put some make up on him, which was fine with me. I actually was pleased with his appearance, especially for my kids sake. To me, there was no real evidence of the jaundice. He did truly look like he was sleeping. Curious as I am, I peeked under the blanket. He still had the hospital gown on. They had his arms crossed over his chest, the IV was still in his arm.
I rubbed his head, I kissed his forehead. He was so cold. It was the first dead body I'd ever touched.
I opened the door to give the kids the opportunity to come in. S came in first, and I picked her up so she could see him. She's experienced a death before, and really understands the concept in general, so honestly this was more for her than the twins. I'd told her previously that we could see daddy again, and three separate times she said she wanted to. She didn't cry...I didn't expect her to, she just looked and cuddled up with me.
C came in, relatively unphased, as I expected. This was actually really good for him I think. Before seeing Dan, he really had no idea what was going on. He certainly doesn't get death. I picked him up and walked up close and he was totally ok. We talked about the fact that even though daddy looks like he's sleeping, he'll never open his eyes again, and that he can't talk to us. Throughout the time there, he was really in and out of the room, with no obvious trauma of seeing his dad in that way. He did, and even though it's gut wrenching for me I know it's good for him, start saying "daddy will never, ever open his eyes, NEVER again."
A had the most issues, and is having the most issues in general. She had woken up angry that morning, which is completely out of character for her. You can count on her to always have a smile on her face. She also requires alot of "transition" time, when faced with a new experience. She and Justin are buds, so he sat down in the floor, right outside the room with Dan, with the door open. She'd walk up to the door, peek in, and then walk away. Gradually, she got to the point where she was sitting in his lap and had the ability to see Dan. Finally, she walked in the room with me. She never let me pick her up in there. She always stayed back, but that was ok. That's what she needed, and what her little brain would allow her to do.
Before we left home, I picked three flowers for them to give Dan. A also picked a dandelion for him:) They had all colored a picture as well. I held Connor while he told me where to place his flower, on Dan's chest. This was also where Sophie and Avery wanted their pictures. Connor's picture went next to his head, along with the dandelion, and on the other side were Avery and Sophie's flowers. I also had written him a short letter that morning and put it in envelope that I put on his chest as well. Below is Sophie's picture. I just love it, and it breaks my heart all at the same time.
We talked with the kids alot about the fact that he can't see us or talk to us, but that he can hear us. And that the funeral home was not the only place we can talk to him. If we're at home, and scared and want to talk to him, we can. If something fun happens and we want to tell daddy, we can! And although he can hear us, he just can't respond. We also talked about the fact that "he will ALWAYS be your daddy. NOTHING can change that." Before we left, both of the twins said "bye daddy. I love you."
We're not religious people. I'm not opposed to the concept of heaven, but when I've never talked to my kids about it before, their dads death did not seem like the best time to introduce. I'm very practical, and want to stick with things that they can grasp and that seem real to them. Can he hear us? I don't know. I'd like to think he can. And, I don't think there's any harm in letting them think that...after all...it might be true. And, when I think about others who I've been close to that have died, like my grandmothers, I'd like to think that they are watching over me, seeing who I am, what type of person I've become. I want my kids to think that way about their daddy.
At one point, I was sitting on the couch in the room with Dan. He was to my left, and Justin was sitting right outside the door on the floor, facing us, so he was to my right. How is this my life? Deceased ex-husband on one side and amazing boyfriend on the other.
It got to the point when the kids were getting antsy. Justin told me he'd take them to the car for me, so I could spend a few more minutes alone with Dan. S ended up staying with me, and he took the twins.
I just didn't want to leave him. I knew I had to. I KNEW it. I willed him to wake up. I can't stand the idea of what they are going to do to his body. But I know it's not different then burying someone. And I understand cremation, I get it, and am "for" it, but just not with him. I want to keep him forever. Not his body lol...I just want him to WAKE UP. FUCK this is so hard.
And then I wonder, if given the chance, if he could really be given a second chance, would he do anything differently? Would he turn his life around? That conversation happened several times in the hospital "if he gets out of this, if we can get him healthy again, will he turn his life around, or will he go back to the old routine?" We'll never know of course, but even though I knew him on so many levels, I didn't think he had the strength to even want to get better. I think it was always a battle that he was going to lose.
I am sitting here, in tears. For you. For the babies. For Dan. I experienced losing my dad when I was 22 and CANNOT imagine it happening at the age of your three little ones. I felt like a little child when I lost him, so I can only imagine how they feel. I understand how you felt when first seeing his body. Yes you were there when he died, but seeing him after the fact is definitely a different experience. When my dad died, I held his had for what seemed to be an eternity. I COULDN'T let it go. He died at home and I honest to God didn't let go until the funeral director arrived to take him away... Then when I first saw him at the wake, all dressed, with make-up on, etc. I literally ran out of the room sobbing. I just couldn't. So, I get it. I do. And it breaks my heart that you are dealing with all of this. I do think you made the right call bringing the babies to see Dan one last time and in how you explained things to them. That explanation, for children their age, is perfect.
ReplyDeleteOf course you want him back... to WAKE UP. But those words say so much... not only to be awake, and alive, and present... but also to WAKE UP and realize and change. I don't know if given another chance, if he would have taken it. He had been given so many chances. Having dealt with an addict personally, I know that it has to be their choice. They have to want it. They need to rise up from rock bottom. Some people just can't do it, no matter how much we want that for them.
I think that as "non addicts" it's very difficult for you and I to truly understand the scope of the disease. Through my brother's blogging, I've learned so much and I think that one of his posts in particular may be helpful for you right now:
(will make another post... too many characters...)
He wrote: "There is an aspect of my addiction that I rarely speak about. The more time that elapses between my active addiction and this moment , the clearer it all becomes. Hindsight is 20/20. Mental illness and addiction are commonly intertwined. My specific case was no different. I suffered from bouts of depression when I was a young man. I had spoken to numerous counselors as well as medical professionals seeking answers. I was given many answers. Depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder, we’re just a few on the long list of likely candidates. Every time I took medication I could not live with effects. But today I am free of all of these afflictions. I can see clearly now the insanity that transpired in my mind’s eye as I slid down the slope of addiction.
DeleteWhen I became addicted I went through the textbook progression. I was taking pills at first orally, then crushed, then powdered and sniffed, and ultimately injected. Now this is all textbook, as I have already stated, but what went on in my mind was very specific and very personal. Somehow the addiction and my mental illness meshed into something new . And as I recall the stages of degradation that occurred to me mentally, it is quite frightening.
The shame that comes from an inability to consciously stop using drugs combined with my depression and began to fuel suicidal thoughts and tendencies. More and more the idea of death, the idea of ending it all, seemed like the best option. I had a problem with this idea though. I didn’t want to hurt my family. In my drug addled brilliance and my depression fueled state I had the answer at the snap of my fingers. I would make everyone hate me. If they hated me it would be a gift when I died.
Sounds crazy right? Well it does to me today too. I simply want to share this information about my very personal struggle with addiction and mental illness so that maybe you will look and the people in your lives that struggle with addiction a little differently.
Addiction, in my opinion, produces a state of mental illness. If there are already problems they will be magnified. If not, some will arise. We need to look at the addict as compassionate human beings. The answers are out there on how to actively engage the problem of addiction head on. We need to stop criminalizing addicts. I am one of the rare few that came out the other side relatively unscathed. This was nothing less than a miracle. I say that because help never arrived. When I asked no one knew how. I tried to get professional help and insurance wouldn’t pay. I had no options except death in the end."
There are a lot of comparisons between Dan and my brother. The mental illness, the medication, the addiction (self-medication)... and I am convinced that if my brother had not gone to prison, I would have lost him too. He had NO CHOICE but to get clean & sober. Some battles just cannot be won, especially when they are unwilling to fight... I truly believe that as difficult as this is for you and for the kids, and as much as all of this sucks and will have ramifications for the rest of your lives, Dan is at peace. Finally.