Category: Uncategorized
The Magic of the Holidays is Carried on in the Next Generation
This time of year can be quite trying for someone who has lost a loved one to mesothelioma. From Thanksgiving to the New Year, it is a time when family and friends get together to celebrate the beauty and love of the holidays. At times, there are treasured stories retold of those we mourn; then, there are the times when we feel an emptiness as we gaze at the chair that used to be occupied by someone we cared for deeply.
For me personally, that time of grief really begins in October at the anniversary of my Dad’s passing. It is a time when I look back fondly on all of our memories, but then I realize quickly that the first weeks without him were largely over the most festive times of the year. We went through the motions that first year, trying our best to carry on our same customs like we know Dad would have wanted. It was difficult, but we somehow muddled through. Now, we have had some time to “adjust” and still try to keep things as traditional as possible.
Last year, with the addition of my daughter, things changed again; this time, for the better. She brings so much joy and light to the lives of my family and friends, that it’s not hard to realize that she takes after her grandfather. My Dad was always the one who brought everyone together; now, it seems as though the torch has been passed on to her. Seeing her makes me feel as though Dad is still with me in a very real way, making Christmastime magical all over again.
Thanks to All Mesothelioma Caregivers
November is National Family Caregivers Month. Being in the same month as Thanksgiving, this is a group that deserves our thanks – the unpaid caregivers. It is difficult to be the patient, or the sick one of the family, but caregivers have their own challenges. Over 90 million Americans care for others who have a disability, disease, chronic condition or are elderly. Caregivers range from parents taking care of sick children to grown adults taking care of their elderly parents.They cross all socio-economic demographics, but the majority are women.
Oftentimes taking care of a mesothelioma patient is a sudden role that you did not anticipate. One day you and your spouse are living your everyday life, and the next you have been dealt with a serious illness that needs action. Not only are you your spouse’s support, but you are also the sounding board for decisions. Where do we go? What kind of treatment should we choose?
It sounds like a few easy questions, but it is not. It is a tough disease and the questions are not easy to answer. So once you have made decisions and the focus is totally on the patient – what about you, the caregiver? At the mesothelioma center where I work, we feel the caregiver is just as important as the patient and we try to provide support for them as well. But the most difficult thing for the caregiver is to realize that they too are important.
From my Experience of Caregiving, it is a tough job to say the least. It is stressful emotionally, physically and financially. There are a lot of support options for mesothelioma caregivers. If you are at a mesothelioma center, there are probably onsite support groups. You may not think you have anything to add, but consider just showing up and seeing what others say. You may get some advice about how others are handling this challenging role.
Another often overlooked issue is physically taking care of yourself. Caregives must make sure to eat healthy and take an occasional walk. A thirty minute walk can do wonders. It can take you away from the hospital setting, allow you to inhale fresh air and clear your mind. Caregiving is hard work so take breaks. If someone offers to lend a hand, let them, you can always reciprocate sometime. Learn how to communicate effectively with the medical team. Write down your questions. Keep them concise and prioritize which questions you want answered first.
There are many tips that can help the caregiver so please try out a support group or reach out to a social worker or clergy. Above all, give yourself credit for doing the best you can for your loved one.
Visit the following websites designed to support the family caregivers: Generations United, and National Alliance for Caregiving.
Thank you for all you do for your loved ones!
Finding Comfort in Dad’s Music
A lot of people find much comfort in music. It has a healing quality to it, and you can usually find a song to fit any mood. Here are some lyrics that help me when I need to remember my Dad.
My Dad sang the song I’ll Fly Away often with his band, and it was also sung at his funeral:
“Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away.
To that home on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away.”
Dad called Rocky Top his “theme song”:
“Now all I know is it’s a pity life can’t be simple again.”
He was a fan of The Eagles. I remember him working in the basement at home and the song Take it Easy always seemed to be playing:
“Take it easy, take it easy. Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.
Lighten up while you still can, don’t even try to understand.
Just find a place to make your stand, and take it easy.”
Lastly, our song was You are My Sunshine:
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
What are some songs that remind you of your loved ones? I’d love to hear about them!
Gaining Comfort Knowing Dad is Mesothelioma-Free in Heaven
As I write this, it is the eve of the second anniversary of my Dad’s passing. This is always an extremely challenging time of year for me. I think back to all the “lasts”- the last time I saw Dad, the last conversation, his last day, his last night. I tend to dwell on these times. I then flip-flop to the “firsts”- our first full day without him, our first Christmas without his special family gift showing up, the first birthday where he wasn’t here. Those are hard as well.
I should think of all of his “firsts” though. What were his first moments in Heaven like? Who was the first person he saw? What was the first thing he did? He would have, without a doubt, been in awe (and probably still is) of everything that God has there for him.
For us here, death is a finality, but for Dad, it was a new beginning. While I stay here grieving, he is happy. He got a new body, free of mesothelioma and any pain. Knowing this, I try to recognize that he is in a beautiful place now with no sadness or grief; however, my heartbreak continues.
I often think that if I could just see him or hear his voice things would be so much easier. If I could just have five more minutes with him, maybe I could have some more peace with the situation. Maybe, but then again, I believe that everything happened just as God intended. And even though I can’t see or hear him, I feel like he is watching over me and my family every day.
Even with the pain of losing my Dad, life has continued with many blessings: my daughter who will be turning one year old soon, the health of my family, the list could go on and on. I talk to Dad all the time and ask him to pray for us, and I truly believe that he hears me. He watched out for me for my whole life, why wouldn’t he do the same from Heaven?
Although I will always miss Dad and everything about him, I try to focus on all of the gifts that God has given me. It is hard to recognize them at times, especially right now, but I know that He is taking care of Dad, and that is the greatest blessing anyone could ever want.
Dad, I miss you and love you today and always, and you will forever have a special place in my heart.
Remembering The Last Goodbye
My heart breaks as I write today, realizing that it has been two years to the day since the last time I saw my Dad. I remember it very clearly; he was in the hospital that day, supposed to be discharged. We had big plans to order pizza that night to celebrate, and then Mike and I needed to head home. While being evaluated that afternoon, his oxygen kept dropping, prompting the medical staff to cancel his discharge.
I could see the disappointment in Dad’s eyes that day; he wanted so badly to be home in his rocking chair with his dog beside him. Those 19 days he ended up spending in the hospital took a toll on him and he was tired. We made the best of that evening though, ordering out for dinner… well for Mom, my husband, and me. I kept sneaking him some French fries; just another one of our private memories that no one knew about.
When I left the hospital that night, we said goodbye and I started out the door of his room. I happened to turn around and he waved and said, “Bye Jen!” I remember thinking that was so strange; he usually called me anything other than my name (he had a long list of nicknames for me). I blew him a kiss and left the hospital, not realizing that that would be the last time I would see my Dad smile. The last time I would hug him. The last time we would look each other in the eyes and say, “I love you.”
When I stop to think about it, maybe the oddity of him calling me by my name was a gift. Maybe God gave that to me so that I would always remember it and the smile he had on his face when I last saw him. The warmth that Dad exuded was extra present in that moment, as was the love in his eyes.
I miss my Dad every day, but it’s on days like today that it really hits me. Realizing that I’ve had to live without him for almost two years is tough to handle, but I know that he is up in Heaven now, with that same love for me and my family, smiling on us each and every moment.
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