Love

I've been thinking about love lately. We've been talking about love in our small group; what it means, how to show it, etc. and how different people define it differently. I've realized in the past couple of weeks that even in the most horrendous of circumstances, love can conquer all. Unfortunately, this month I was given the bad news that my father is dying. I don't write this on here because I seek pity, or encouragement, or any of that. I write it because I need to and because however horrible this situation is I believe it may offer hope in times when we feel there is none. Quite frankly, I fear for writing it here that people will smother me with kind thoughts, which sometimes is hard for me. I'm a tough girl and I think I can handle anything so when people ask me if I'm ok a lot it kind of wigs me out. In any event, getting back to the point, I was called by my Dad's wife and told that his condition has gotten worse and that the doctor's have given him anywhere from 1 to 6 weeks to live. WHAT?! How is this happening? I knew he was sick. He has been an alcoholic all of my life, struggling with treatment, in and out of facilities, quitting drinking, starting again, etc. About a year or so ago his doctor's told him if he did not stop drinking he would surely die, as his kidneys were beginning to shut down from all of the abuse. He did stop drinking, this year, in June, on my birthday actually, however it was too late.

All of this news brought about a cyclone of emotions for me. My father and I have never had the best relationship. We've had an on again off again relationship talking here and there and not talking for long periods of time. He would promise me he'd stop drinking and we would talk a lot, he would start drinking and then call me and yell at me for things that were obviously not my fault. It has been a strained relationship to say the least, however he is still my Dad. He gave me my blue eyes and my caramel colored skin. He is part of the reason why I love the beach so much, why I love mexican food and why I can mix up a mean bowl of guacomole. I think Mexican is the only food he ever cooked. He is a great guy when sober and he is a guy who has an addiction that he could never overcome and now it is killing him. I have forgiven him for these things, but that doesn't stop the hurt. As I type that I can barely contain the tears. I honestly never thought this would happen. I never thought that I would be told that this is how he would die. Call it denial, call it stupidity, call it what you want, I never thought I'd get that call, but I did. And then the guilt came. The guilt came falling down on me and I felt as though I would not be able to go on. The guilt of why Kristen, why didn't you do something sooner, why didnt' you try harder, why didn't you just ignore the fact that he was drunk all the time and go see him anyway? Why? Why? Why? Then came the anger. I got mad and thought, he is so selfish. He's always been selfish! This is one of the most fantastic times of my life, I'm four months pregnant and my life is good and now I have to deal with the fact that he is dying because he couldn't stop being so selfish and stop drinking! And I don't care! I wanted to scream. Then came the sadness. The reality that now I had to make the decision to go see my father and to have the last time I see him be in a hospital room where he is hooked up to all kinds of machines and barely coherent. I did not want to remember him like that. I want to remember him as the tan, brown haired, blue eyed guy that coached my softball team, that laid out in the sun with me, that took me to the fair. The sad reality is that this is it for him. And how horrible it must be to have to die like that. I would never wish a death like that on anyone. I made that decision to go. I think it was the hardest decision I have ever had to make in my life, but with support from some very good friends and a wonderful husband I was able to make the decision to go. I'm sure you're wondering where love comes into this blog. This is where love comes in. I made the decision to go on a Thursday night and by the grace of God and the support of two wonderful friends, we left on Saturday morning for Daytona Beach to see my father. The first thing I felt when entering his hospital room was extreme anxiety. I haven't seen my Dad in about ten years and I had no idea what his reaction would be upon seeing me. His reaction was one of love from what I could tell. He had big tears in his eyes and was unable to speak. Then I felt the love. Love for my Dad. He's still my Dad and regardless of all the mistakes he's made in his life, regardless of how old he looked and how gray his hair was his eyes were still that cool blue color and his smile was still the same infectious one. We took lots of pictures with us to show him and talked about old memories and good times. Like when my Mom told my Dad we could play the games at the fair, but not to win anything and then we won a bunny! Or the time we attempted to sneak into a Beach Boys concert at that same fair. Or the fact that the only cassette tape my Dad had in his truck was Gloria Estefan. Ha! Those were some good times. I felt love for him, compassion for his wife, that she was watching him go through this and sadness that he was barely coherent enough to realize I was there. I felt the need to pray, to pray hard, for peace over him. To pray that God has forgiven him and he will lift him up into Heaven when the time is right.
Wes was with me this whole time and Wes solidified what love is this past weekend. Had he not been there I would have been an even bigger mess than I was. As I said at the beginning of this huge rant, love can be found even in deepest sadness and horrible times. The love that I felt for my husband this weekend as he was there to support me through this was unbelievable. I think it may have been a deeper kind of love than I have ever felt before. I have never in my life felt more connected to someone than I do with him. He is part of me. He is my rock, my partner in this crazy world, and my other half. I fell in love with him all over again this weekend as he held me while I sobbed all over him and covered his shirt in mascara, as he carried our bags in the airport, let me sleep on his shoulder on the plane, said we could get Starbucks as many times as I wanted, raced me on moving sidewalks to keep my spirits up. No matter what the circumstances, love is all you need.