The Last Two Weeks

Two weeks ago, I went on holiday with my family. Looking back, it feels like a dream. How could so much happen in just two weeks?

In the last two weeks:

• I drove 13 hours to Wisconsin with my husband, listening to our children argue in the back seat.



• I had a wonderful Christmas Eve celebration with my husband’s family.
  


• I had a quiet Christmas day with a couple of my sisters and their families.
  


• I talked to my Dad for the last time on the telephone.
  


• I did a last-minute, all night, 15-hour road trip to North Carolina with two of my sisters and their husbands. We told stories of our childhood and hauled out memories of Dad.
  


• I cried in shock at the unrecognizable man groaning in that hospital bed.
  


• I smiled into my Dad’s unfocused eyes, stroked his cheek and sang him hymns while he lay dying.
  


• I watched everyone around me cry.
  


• I called my oldest sister at work to tell her Dad couldn’t hold on like she’d asked.



• I told Gram that her son joined her husband in heaven.
  


• I met my little sister at the airport and held her arm.
  


• I talked quietly with my sisters around Dad’s hospital bed. He looked like he was just about to fall asleep; the only thing missing was the dangerously-tilting coffee cup in his hand.




• I was at an impromptu family reunion. Only Dad was missing.
  


• I felt my nephew roll and kick in my sister’s belly.
  


• I read about 100 emails from friends and family.
  


• I wrote Dad’s biography for his memorial service.



• I sorted through endless albums of old pictures with my sisters late into the night.
  


• I laughed with my cousin and his family.
  


• I cried at two memorial services.
  


• I welcomed the New Year with apple juice drunk from ketchup cups somewhere in Indiana during another 17-hour road trip.
  


• I smiled at countless loving stories told of my Dad.
  


• I shook hands with at least 200 people who knew and loved my Dad.
  


• I followed my Dad’s last year of life in the pictures I downloaded from his camera.
  


• I hugged my 96-year old Gram.
  


• I left my Mum behind in Minnesota.
  


• I dozed beside my husband as he drove all night - 11 hours - home.

Now I am home. I see the rooms, my children - everything is normal. School goes on. Piano lessons, basketball practice, library visit, exercising – it all happens just like before I went on holiday. But if I allow myself to think, I know it isn’t the same.