God help me, but you're right - It's time



 It has taken me more than 4 years to post this.  I have read it over and over again in my *drafts*, every time with tears and an ache that never seems to dull.  I can say goodbye, sure, but it's never really going to be goodbye when you're not here to say it to. 

My heart still aches with the regrets of things unsaid, with the dangling possibilities that were on the line in our last giddy time together before your return to the shitty desert, in those late-night phone calls with your voice in my ear as I nestled under the covers, my heart exploding in happiness that I got to talk to you again when you had so little time on the phone stuck in that stupid far off place... 

I know that I'm supposed to just say one final goodbye and move on, but I still don't know how to do that.  I hate that I'll never know, I hate that I didn't get to choose... more to the point I hate that the choice I regret now is the last one I really got to make with you, when just maybe it could have been so very different if you had ever come home again.  And you know what the worst part for me is?

a little piece of me hates you for dying

I collapsed into myself when you died.  And I tried, I really tried to make it better, to let you go, to move on, but I did a pretty shit job of it to be honest.  I'm not the only one that had to pay for that shit job, either.  Four and a half years later thinking of you still knots my stomach and reduces me to tears and I don't know how to move on, how to let you go, how to let it be, or how to forgive myself for what I've made of it, and what I didn't make of it. 

If it weren't my heart that was broken I'd be full of good advice for what to do to help with the grief, to accept the loss, to let myself truly move on in my heart.  If I weren't as stubborn and thick-headed and stuck I'd listen to someone else's advice, I'd have figured it out by now. 

This weekend I'm going to spend some time in one of those places that touches my heart with peace and love, and I'm bringing you there with me.  I don't know what I think will happen there, but I know that it's time to try, try something, try anything, to make this different in my heart.  I'll never forget you, I'll never really get to say goodbye, and I'll never know what could have been, but somehow I need to let you go love, somewhere within me I know you're telling me it's time, it's time, it's time.... 

So in posting this finally I guess this is me talkin' to God, talkin' to you... praying, asking, hoping, for the strength of heart to be honest and open with myself, enough to be able to forgive myself for being too scared, for not holding on with both hands, for not saying the things I wanted to say, and the strength of spirit to love you and keep you in that little place in my heart while once and for all letting you go and letting my heart move on.

___________The following was written in the Fall of 2006___________

Slain soldier devoted to duty: parents
Last Updated: Thursday, August 3, 2006
| 5:33 PM AT CBC News
"Angela and Tom Reid got the devastating news at 4 a.m., when military officials knocked on their door. Surrounded by family and friends, they read a brief statement to reporters Thursday afternoon, describing their son as a devoted soldier who lived life to the fullest. Angela Reid expected her son home in a few weeks. She spoke to him on Wednesday and said her final words were "continue to be on high alert." She said he supported Canada's decision to stay in Afghanistan and loved the LAV III, the vehicle he was riding in when he died."

"Premier Rodney MacDonald offered his condolences to the Reid family, saying Nova Scotians were proud of the slain soldier's service to Canada. To honour Reid, the premier has ordered flags at Province House and the provincial buildings in Truro to be lowered to half-mast."
"Reid, serving with the 1st Battalion of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in Edmonton, was airlifted to the medical base at Kandahar airfield, where he was pronounced dead. Reid died on one of the deadliest days for Canada so far in the military campaign in Afghanistan. "__________________

"What's goin' on!!?"...  I hear those words echo in my thoughts when I think of you. It has taken me so long to even believe your death to be real, yet here I sit, trying to say good-bye... it's such a good picture of you they posted, but I would give anything to have seen your laughing, smiling face home again, instead of the picture I see plastered everywhere... Loretta called me, you know?  I was away camping when you died, having a great time.  I had just gotten back into the house and had to run for the phone, happy, rejuvinated, suntanned and exhausted after the week away. 

I knew it wasn't good news by the sound of her voice, but I had no idea how bad.  "Chris was killed," she said.  You know in books how people say the world stops?  Well, in that moment my world stopped.  Chris?  Killed?  What Chris?  MY Chris?!  Nononono, that can't be... I collapsed to the floor and I don't remember the next few minutes.  I was so lucky not to be alone, but I don't remember.  Dead.  Not coming home from Afghanistan.  Gone.  Oh god...

So many thoughts flashed through my head... things I'd said, things you'd said, things I wished I had said, things I ached to say to you just one more time, regrets, my eyes filled with my regrets and they spilled over until I was too exhausted to cry any more...

I can certainly say that I had never before, and have never since, met another man anything like you Chris. You made me laugh my head off; you took me 4x4ing until my teeth rattled in my head (your poor trucks!); you're the reason I listen to Johnny Cash and Sublime; you made the best winter camping fires ever; you never left a friend hanging; you showed me how to fix my own car; you stopped to help people you didn't even know; you spoke the truth, even if it hurt; you warmed my frozen toes after sledding; you were always true to who you were; you taught me how to shoot, and you taught me how not to take life (or myself!) too seriously. You helped me keep things more squared away, and I helped you keep things, well, not-quite-so squared away!! Now that you're gone, you have helped me remember not to hold things that should be said until the infinite "tomorrow", lest we not get the chance to say them. Our cross-country drive to see your family in Truro will always be something I tell stories about, I'm glad we had the chance to do it, even cramped in my little car!!

I'm happy that we kept in touch all this time, and that you came down to see me while you were home on leave... I'll always remember your surprise phone calls, and the way you were always looking to find the best part of the situations you were in.  Sorry about the melted chocolate, I should've sent you more chips!!  I know that you wanted to be on this tour, and that you were really driven to be at the front of things, and not hanging back in the shadows. Like I always told you, I was always really proud of you for the way you handled everything the Army threw at you; you never lost yourself.

In a lot of ways I'm sorry that we weren't better matched for the more "long-term" stuff, but I'm really glad that we knew it, and that we ended things without wanting to kill one another. The mini-van and the rest of the schmozzle really weren't going to be our style, yah? I learned so much from you, about life, about love, and about myself. I am greatful for the time that we had together... You were a crazy, fun-loving sweetheart, and my heart aches that you won't be part of the world any more, part of my world. 

For every way that you touched my life, you will always be remembered. I miss you.

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - The Last for Now

Dad really declined within that first week. The first 2 or 3 days were good, and then there seemed to be a daily decline. Suddenly he needed a chair in the shower; a cane; a walker; He practically stopped eating, and stubbornly refused to go to bed in his bed (instead of the recliner or the sofa), or to have someone else take over his medications, despite missed doses and the errors he was making.

Our family arrived starting on the Monday of the long weekend (Dad’s brothers and sister and their spouses, and his mom), and it was really nice to have them here. More laughter and food and conversation, we hadn’t seen most of them in years, some of them almost 10 years! I think it has been hard on dad, as he’s up a bit later, doing weird things with his meds because he’s trying to stay awake, and he’s not used to the level of activity. Despite that, I know that he is so so so so glad that they all came to visit and spend time with him and mom. It has been so good for her to have someone to talk to, since she is trying to be strong in front of me, for whatever reason. It’s been so hard on her, and it seems like every time she shows some kind of emotion, she feels like she is being weak, and I can’t seem to change her mind.

I haven’t cried a lot. I’m sad, but there’s work that needs to be done, things that need to be taken care of, and that’s what I came home for, so that’s what I’m doing. Maybe sooner or later it will come crashing down around me, but I feel alright so far… it’s oddly, strangely just happening, and needs to be dealt with. I don’t feel the need to scream and cry, or fight, or do much more than whatever is within my superhuman means to make it better or easier for my parents.

Today is a rough day, for lots of reasons… it’s a rough day for dad, he doesn’t have his strength, he doesn’t want to eat, and he really hasn’t woken up enough to have a real conversation at all yet through the day (and it’s almost bedtime now). I’ve taken over his medications (against his wishes), and put them into the “daily” containers, so we know that if he isn’t doing well it’s not because he’s gotten mixed up and taken too many sleeping pills or something. It’s going to be tough, making the call for when he needs to go into the hospital, but I have limits, I know that. I can’t do it all.

Despite my strength of heart, I know that I can’t be everything, or do everything that’s needed for him to get better. But I can do a lot. I would never be a home care aide, and to anyone out there that is one, I salute you, because I am *surely* not built for it. Like I said, if it weren’t my dad, I wouldn’t be doing any of it. Ultimately, the decision is up to mom, she’s the one that’s going to have to make the call, but when it's time I will walk her into the decision if she needs me to. As far as I believe, as long as he’s able (and willing!) to eat, can sleep, move about the house with his walker, and get to the bathroom on his own, he’s fine to be here in the house. If he can’t do those things we can’t really be enough on our own and he will have to go to the hospital. That's what I say now anyway...

Dad's appointment with the oncologist at the CCI isn’t until the 18th, that’s a week from next Tuesday, forever. I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't triaged to the top of the list because his cancer is too bad. He is declining so quickly, I don't know if there's really anything that can be done. The doctor here isn't very helpful and he has the bedside manner of a wet sock, so I don't count on him for much. By the 18th I don’t know if Dad will still be home, or if he will be in a hospital somewhere. I’m dreading the day that comes.
Hadn’t saw this one coming. Wasn’t ready. My dad is only 56 years old. He just retired in June, built a campground with my brother, worked hard, dreamed big every day, loved his family.

Sucks.
Shitty.
It really.
Sucks.
It’s really.
Shitty.

I’m praying every day, for peace, for love, for patience, for strength and for fluidity with the universe. Every day. I am grateful for the prayers and well wishes sent in our direction, and every email and letter I get is another good thing I see in the world. As for me, I, continue to pray.

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part II

When I left for Korea, there was a brief conversation about coming home if anything happened to my family. My maternal grandparents had both passed away, my paternal grandfather died before I went back to Korea, and my paternal grandmother is a strong battle-axe (and I mean that as lovingly as can be imagined) of a woman who may live forever. My parents were in relatively good health, and everyone else I knew and loved was pretty much strong and healthy. I never thought it would come to be.

First when I heard the news, I felt annoyed: I had plans, things I wanted to see and do, a course to finish, a couple of trips planned, a certain amount of money I wanted saved before returning home... the whole idea of coming to Korea the 2nd time was to make sure we came home with enough money to set up a house, buy a car, all that jazz. I didn’t want to come home to wiat for news about whether my dad was sick, how sick he might be, and what it all meant. Then, I felt worried: what if I don’t get home quickly and he dies? What if I don’t get home before he can’t communicate anymore, and he doesn’t even know that I came home? The I felt annoyed and angry again, I didn’t want to come home, to give up all of my plans, to come back for a purpose that wasn’t my own, to have so many things once again left undone financially. S and I talked it over, a lot. She told me that if it was her dad, she would probably have been on a plane already. I thought about it a lot. Was she right? Should I leave? Well?... Then, I had enough of torturing myself, and I knew I had to come home.

This all happened in the span of the overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday, between the 2 phone calls home... the first call, I was going to be home at the start of November. The next day, I was home on the first flight I could catch. Turned out I was home that Sunday at 5pm before I barely even knew that I had left. I said goodbye to my kids, a wonderful group of 5 and 6 year olds that I loved teaching; I said goodbye to the people I taught with, the 7 other foreigners in the strange world that is Korea… easily the best group of people I have ever worked with; I said an awkward goodbye to the Korean staff I worked with, rushed because of the lack of time, and uneasy because Koreans aren’t great with emotions outside of “happy.” I spent Saturday with S in Seoul, wandering around GyeongBeok Palace for the 2nd day, taking photos with our new cameras, just enjoying hanging out for the day, pretending in my head that I wasn’t having to leave the next day. Waves of anger, anxiety, sadness, worry, relief, nausea and anticipation cycled through me at 6,000rpm, despite the fact that I knew I had made the right decision…