It’s been an emotional month around here. Actually, an emotional six weeks or so. Maybe seven. Anyway, it’s been tough sledding for us lately. I’m sorry if this post is a bit of a downer, but it’s just things that are laying heavy — really heavy — on my heart and I hope writing about them will help with the emotional impact and processing.

First of all, Budge’s Dad died at the beginning of May. It was and wasn’t unexpected. He was suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease and was living in a veteran’s nursing home nearby. He’s been dealing with dementia, then got the Alzheimer’s diagnosis for about five years now, even though his memory had begun fading sometime before that.

However, the end, when it came, came very quickly. He was fine the last Thursday I went to see him at the nursing home. When I say fine, I mean he was alert and bright eyed. At that time, he was two weeks into losing his ability to speak and be understood, but Dad could always convey a great deal of information about his feelings and thoughts through his body language, especially the way he did his eyes. You knew if he thought something was stupid by the way he’d roll his eyes, and he would indicate complete indifference to something with just a devastating shrug of the shoulders. So even though he couldn’t speak, we could have a modicum of conversation. That was Thursday. That night, he ate a big meal at supper and seemed like he was in fine fettle.

Friday, though, he took a turn. He slept most of the day in an unhealthy sleep. He couldn’t be roused by anyone. In fact, the staff of his unit called all of us to come. It didn’t look good. Friday passed though and we all went home, but got back bright and early Saturday morning. Well, he rallied. He was awake and alert and interacted with us all day. I was able to get him to drink some juice, but he still refused to eat anything, but he seemed much better. The hospice nurses that visited him though said he likely had at most three days. He seemed like he was feeling great though.

Something you’ll find out if you are around the dying long enough is they rally before they crash. The great day Dad had Saturday came to a crashing end on Sunday. He was back to being asleep and noncommunicative. We sat with him all Sunday: Budge, her sister Missy, and her stepmom Sandy, and me. We stayed a long time, but he was stable and the hospice nurses said it wouldn’t be today and to go home and get some rest.

We went home, but Budge and I were back at 8:00 the next morning. Sandy and Missy arrived a little after ten. Dad looked bad. He was breathing very shallow and they were giving him morphine to keep him calm and help his breathing. About 11:30, Budge and I went to get a bite of lunch and we had just finished when Missy called Budge and told us to get back immediately.

We didn’t make it in time though. When we got there, he was already gone. It was a quick and serene passing, but I hated it for Budge. It upset her, but like so much that upsets her, she didn’t let it show and moved on stoically forward. That was Monday. We had his funeral on the next Sunday. Now we are dealing with getting used to Dad not being here anymore and to be quite honest, it’s hard. I miss seeing him three times a week. It’s going to take a lot of getting over before we get over it, if we ever do.

Then, we went to my Daddy’s for Father’s Day. Daddy has been having some health problems. He’s been hospitalized twice this year for bad infections. Both times he’s come home with a PIC line so Teresa, my stepmother, could give him strong antibiotics at home. Here’s the thing though. I knew he had been in the hospital and I knew he’d been sick, but I hadn’t SEEN him since Christmas.

He looked concerning. His hair is now very wispy. His complexion seemed a little grey to me. He didn’t eat much of the excellent lunch Teresa made and he didn’t have much to say. He just didn’t seem to feel good at all. He did go outside and walk around to “get a little exercise” as he called it, but he seemed tired.

Now, if I go into my relationship with Daddy in all it’s complexities, this blog will double in size. I mean the BLOG, not this POST, it’s complicated. Now though, I’m looking at a reality that Daddy is mortal. That’s hard for me to believe. For all our complicated past, I never imagined a life without Daddy in it in some capacity. He was ageless and timeless, like the tides. Until, now, he’s not. He’s sick and it shows, and I will be damned if I know how to process losing my Daddy. I don’t know how long it will be. He may shrug this sickness off and live to 90, but family history is against him.

I simply don’t know what to do when he’s gone. It won’t be like my little Mama. I preached her funeral. I looked at her the night she passed as she lay in the hospital bed and I was sad, but I had no shame or regret in my heart. I’d done the best I could. Daddy’s passing will be much more complicated, just like our relationship has been since he left when I was five. I get a little sick just thinking about it.

Then, that same week, Wednesday night, my beloved best friend Keaudie, my lovely mutt, woke me up to go the bathroom at 2:00 AM. I got up and got ready to take him out when I noticed he was dragging his back legs. I got him up on his feet and we managed to make it out for him to pee, but it was painfully obvious something was terribly wrong with him.

Back inside, he collapsed at the back again. This time, I couldn’t get him up. I got him next to the couch and laying down comfortably then I gave him a pain pill to ease his stress. We had been having issues with him walking on his left back leg for almost two months. As a last resort, our vet put him on a course of steroids and for a solid month, he was just like his old self . . . until he wasn’t. This night, he wasn’t.

I sat by him all night. I slept a little but I kept waking up to check on him. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what this meant. It could only mean one thing. I made the call at 8:00 AM as soon as the vet opened and at 9:15, Budge and he and I went on a last ride. The vet and staff were wonderful. We had a private room and he got chocolate kisses for a treat. In the end, the vet gave him the injection and just like that he was gone.

I’d only had him eleven years and it doesn’t seem like enough. I keep looking for him everywhere in the house and I see him out of the corner of my eye whenever I turn. He was my best friend, he was my company while I was alone at home as Budge worked. Now he’s gone and my life will never be the same. I picked his ashes up yesterday and they will join the rest of our fur babies on the shelf of honor in our back room. I miss him so much.

Finally, and this might seem petty to y’all but it hurts me nonetheless. We had a nest of three baby finches on our front porch awning. The mama bird sat on the nest taking care of them for the last few weeks and we could hear them tweeting in the house. The were a source of great joy to me and I looked forward to watching them fledge and fly away.

Then yesterday, we had a terrible thunderstorm come through. When we got up and opened the door this morning, half the nest was gone and all the babies with it. They are gone now and I don’t know what became of Mama Bird. It may not seem like much, but on top of everything else, it’s just gutted me. I miss those little fuzzy heads peeking up.

So that is our last several weeks. I am emotionally spent. Budge is holding up well, but she’s feeling the burden as well. I don’t usually do this, but if you could spare a prayer for us, it would be most appreciated.

Love y’all, and keep those feet clean.