The news came around 8 PM my time. First a short email, asking me to call home. Then a Skype, asking if I could call. "You're scaring me." I wrote.
Then I dialed. My brother answered in a shaky voice. He told me that Dad had just died. Peacefully, he added. His breathing just slowed and stopped altogether.
One year to the exact day that we'd found out something was seriously wrong. One year to the exact day that my mother found him seizing at home. One year to the exact day that we didn't know if he'd ever wake up and be "normal" again.
He woke up, alright, but .. "normal" became a very fluid concept.
May 2, 2011 was the beginning of the wildest emotional roller-coaster ride my family has ever been on.
So new ways of defining "normal" were created. "Normal" now included almost daily trips to the hospital. "Normal" now included lots of pills and very long naptimes. "Normal" meant dealing with limitations; forgetfulness, word confusion and strange - albeit accurate - ways of reasoning ("I'm 6 years old with 60 years' experience") "Normal" involved having a lot of questions. But "normal" did not always mean we had answers.
Things looked good for a bit; an intense combination of radiation and chemotherapy (along with strong anti-nausea medication) led to the tumor that was affecting his brain shrinking somewhat. Radiation ran its course and the chemo treatments continued.
A few months later, the tumor was declared "stable." No growth. But no shrinkage, either. This "normal" stuck around a while.
But then suddenly, "normal" changed again. He started losing his balance and falling. One day, upon hearing his symptoms, a nurse's receptionist called 911 on our behalf.
He was admitted to hospital, and an MRI revealed the cause of the problem: the tumor had grown again. And because this had happened while he was still undergoing chemo ... there was nothing more to be done but make him comfortable.
"Normal" quickly morphed into something completely different, unreliable and unpredictable. He slowly lost his abilities until he was completely bedridden and unable to do anything for himself. There were many times where we thought we'd lost him ... only to see him bounce back completely.
But this morning, he didn't bounce back. At least, not in an earthly direction.
So he begins a new "normal" in a new place, with a new body and with his full faculties restored.
And we begin a new "normal" ourselves, without him.
For now.
Oh Mel. This is honest and I'm thankful you've shared this. I can't imagine how it must be to lose your Dad and to be so far away when it all happens. I am praying for you. And thankful your Dad knows and loves Jesus and is with him this very day. I pray you can take comfort in that a midst all the emotions that will likely come up. Also? So very glad you know and love Jesus too.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry for your loss Melanie! My thoughts and condolences are with your family and you at this difficult time. Must be tough to be so far away in China when this was happening to your family. Be strong! I could relate to a lot of your new "normals." Maybe I could share with them when you're back for a visit. God bless!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post, Melanie! As you and your family grieves your dad's passing, it's so wonderful to know that Heaven rejoices! May you know the ultimate comfort and presence of our Heavenly Father as you begin the new "normal." Love you! Dee xx.
ReplyDeleteMelanie, I'm so sorry to hear the news about your father. It must be so hard when you're so far away. Please know that you'll be in our thoughts and prayers.
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