Thanks and Dreams

Thank you to everyone who has offered condolences on the death of my father.  There have been so many comments and emails and cards and I appreciate them all.  It means a great deal to me that I can express myself safely in this space the way I need to, and feel supported as I do it.  Thank you.

We've had my niece staying with us, and the days have been filled with summertime fun: trampoline, kites, archery, biking, concerts in the park, ice cream, books, crafts, movies, games....  In the morning my kids start school and a whole new (intensely packed) routine gets underway.  The daytime brings many distractions.

But at night I've been dreaming about my dad.  In the dreams he's as he was several years ago, before the need for a cane.  There was one where my mom and my brothers and I were with him in the library at home, talking and laughing.  We were having such a nice time, and I kept thinking, "Oh, I hope no one remembers he's supposed to be dead so this doesn't have to end."  In another, my dad came along with me to a place where I was having a rehearsal, and I decided before we started to play to go out in the hall where he was waiting with my husband to see if he'd like to come in and listen to us practice.  He was sitting happily with Ian and laughing when I found him, and again I thought, "As long as no one reminds us he's supposed to be dead this will be okay."

Death of My Dad

I'm home again.  I've been back a week now.  I was away for almost three.  It feels much, much longer.  Despite everything I can't quite grasp that my dad is really gone.  That realization comes and goes at odd times.

I need to sort out the death of my dad in writing.  I'm already forgetting so much.  I don't want to forget anything, but I also need to get some distance in order to function.  To preserve these memories I have to revisit them, but I can't live in that place right now.  I believe by writing them down I can safely set them aside for another time when I'm ready.

I don't know if this post will be of interest to anyone but myself.  All I know is it is long. 

Eulogy for Dad

My father, Arnold Klein, died on Friday morning, Aug 7th, a week after going into hospice at home.  He was surrounded by his family and got to say goodbye to many people.  He was 86 years old.  He was a year and few months shy of his 50th wedding anniversary.  He was dignified and gentle.  He was deeply loved.  The world is much lesser without him.

Parallels: Rivyn and Dad

I have a moment while the nurse is here.  I am tired.  The horror of watching my dad starve to death weighs everything down and makes any laughter we can't suppress at odd moments feel disrespectful.  But sometimes you have to laugh and sometimes you have to cry and it is what it is.

And sometimes you have to write.  I need this chance to organize my thoughts into words to settle me a little.  Or I might go crazy.  My dad informed my mom this morning that it takes great effort to go truly crazy.  I believe it may take just as much effort not to.

So what I would like to write about today are the parallels between my dad at this stage, and my nephew, Rivyn.  The obvious themes of life and death seem to scream at us at every turn.  I can't imagine struggling through this time with my parents without all the kids here to reaffirm what life is really about.  But in particular to have this precious, remarkable little baby in the house---there are no words.  You can't not smile when you look at that baby.  We are all so sad, but then here is this adorable, sweet new person interjected into all of it.  He is a lifeline.  He reminds us simultaneously of what we have and what we will lose.  We're all glad my dad got to meet him.  We are all devastated that they will never know each other.