Why Is This So Hard For Me?

I haven't written much in the last few weeks.  Dad died on March 16.  Haven't felt like practicing.  Turned in my comps.  Why can't I just let go and be like everyone else?  Why is this so hard for me?  - Miranda, March 2008

March is always a weird month for me - particularly March 14-17.  There are a few nerdy holidays that I love (Pi Day on the 14th, Ides of March on the 15th), and one holiday that I don't care that much about (St. Patrick's Day on the 17th).  But stuck in the middle is the anniversary of my dad's death.  This year was a big one - 10 years gone.  That's a long time.   

On the anniversary, I always try to do something he would like.  Usually, I just hope I have a gig to take my mind off the day, and luckily, that was the case this year.  I was playing Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty with a ballet company and it was just the right thing to do.  The music was new to me, and I enjoyed the challenge.  Plus, Sleeping Beauty was my favorite Disney movie growing up - and they used Tchaikovsky's score in the movie!  

From this journal entry in 2008, it doesn't look like I did much to remember him.  My writing was so matter-of-fact.  I was finishing my Master's Degree, and working on my comprehensive exams when my dad died.  That month is still mostly a blur.  I do, however, distinctly remember going to Albertson's grocery store the night he died, so my brother, sister, and I would have some food in the house.  I bought stuff to make quesadillas.  Weird the things that you remember.

This entry hints at something I would struggle with for quite a while after his death - why couldn't I just be normal?  I was only 26 - I didn't want to be the girl who lost her dad.  I just wanted to get through the grieving process and move forward.  I spent a lot of time comparing myself to others.  Being jealous of other people's 'happy' or 'easy' lives.  Of course, you never really know what other people's lives are like, but in dark moments, it is tempting to generalize that everyone else is having a good time while you are stuck feeling sad.  Facebook really didn't help, either. 

I started using the mantra "Be gentle with yourself."  Sometimes it felt forced, but slowly I started to let myself feel my feelings.  Do what you feel you can do, or what you need to do.  It doesn't matter what other people do.  Now, 10 years later, I can choose how to honor my dad.  I can do it in a way that works for me - not anyone else.  It is still hard for me.  But it is on my own terms, now.

I Can Barely Take Care Of Myself

I am selfish.  I'm worried about having to take care of Daddy, and then Mama if she gets sick.  I can barely take care of myself.  If something happened to me, if I couldn't play, if I got hurt - I'd be lost.  I'd have to find something else.  But I can't support my parents.  I can't even support myself.  - Miranda, February 2007

At 25 years old, Annette and Frances were worrying about their children.  I was worrying about my parents.  

Daddy was somewhere in the middle of his radiation treatments when I wrote this entry.  His first round of tumors responded well to chemo, but when the brain tumors showed up, he had to do a round of targeted radiation, which required him to stay for a month in Tampa.  He was staying at a 'Skilled Nursing Facility' that was just awful.  The brain tumors made it difficult for him to walk, and since the 'Facility' didn't have bathrooms in each room, he had to walk down the hall to get to the bathroom.  Well, that didn't go very well.  The staff made him wear diapers, in case he couldn't make it in time.  That happened during one of my visits.  I think that was the first time I ever changed a diaper.  And it was my dad's.

Being a caretaker is such a huge job.  Daddy had so many people helping him, but it always felt like the big tasks fell to his children.  At 25 years old, while my friends were planning weddings and tracking their ovulation, I was helping my dad use a portable urinal.  I couldn't even think about children.  It's like my brain just couldn't process the thought.  The only references I found in my journals were more along the lines of "If I never find someone and have kids, who is going to take care of me?!"

It seems like people always have opinions about a woman's reproductive status.  No one ever really knows what people go through, or what struggles they endure.  No one knows their past experiences.  No one knows their current situation.  We are all just doing the best we can - making the best choices we can at the time.  And hoping it all works out.