Sometimes I can't believe the way time has slipped by. In 2009, I was trying to take care of this farm and my dad as well. We had brought him home from the hospital, he was terminally ill with cancer and we felt we could look after him better here; however he was nearing the end and his care had become overwhelming. I had sold the cattle but the new owner needed to wait for a couple of weeks before he could bring them to his farm, I wasn't thinking clearly and shouldn't have made that deal because I felt more stress with the cattle being owned by someone else, than if they were still mine. If something went wrong, he could back out of the deal.
Nine years ago, the trucks came and we loaded the cattle, in the back of my mind it was a sad moment, for the first time in the history of this farm, there would be no cattle here, our herd descended from my Great grandfather's herd had come to an end. I didn't have time to be sad, the only thing I felt was tired.
My sister came up that evening, I had to have my car repaired in the city, so I decided I would go down that night and stay in town since my appointment was early. I went in to say goodbye to dad but he was sleeping peacefully, something he didn't get to do very much by then. I stared at him for a moment, I decided not to wake him, also saying goodbye would nearly bring me to tears because it took on a different meaning in those final days. I watched him for a few seconds more and then left. That was the last time I would see my father alive, he would die the next day before I got back home.
I find it starting to affect me again, I think because next year will be the ten years mark. It makes me feel a little sad, I think also combined with the shock of it being nine years already, to me it feels like only three or four years at the most. I guess that's an age thing, along with forgetting my glasses. Is this a sad day or just an anniversary of a sad day, the healthy choice would be to think of it as just a marker in my life. Maybe life is sending me a message, this morning when I came down for breakfast, a deer was feeding a baby fawn in the yard, little white spots, wobbly stick legs and all and now happily, that will be a memory also tied to this day going forward as well.
My List
About Me
- Sooo-this-is-me
- Ontario, Canada
- Lived most of my life hidden in the closet and suddenly realized, it's just not working! I started the process of coming out (way back in 2006) and wanted to write about it, hoping to meet people. My blog has shifted a bit now, sometimes gay issues, sometimes every day issues.
16 comments:
Anniversary dates are always hard. Hugs to you today.
{{{{{hugs}}}}}
The deer, dear, I firmly believe are a sign. Take comfort.
Oh bless you Steven. I feel your pain. I lost my mother to suicide, brought on by depression 20years ago this year. I was 36 and wasn't ready to be motherless.
We have to remember the good times, don't we. It's hard I know but we have to find comfort in our family and friends.
I hope you can pour a snifter of your favourite drink, sit down and remember the good times. Sending hugs. X
HUGS sweetie. Anniversary grief is a very real thing. My father died in November of '87, two months shy of his 52nd birthday. I was 31. Every year around that time, my sisters and I get a bit low even now. Then we remember why and chill. One of my sisters was killed by her husband in December of 2004. The other four get together each year and have a sisters' dinner around that time. They always call me while they are out. I found out a couple of years ago that they haven't scattered her ashes yet, so the last couple of dinners she was with them. It is hilariously morbid! We laugh about my mother's scattering (is there another word for that?) in December of '93 because teeth were found in her ashes. She'd had a bald mouth since she was about 25 so I guess she was resting in peace with somebody else. She was 54, and I didn't like her much but she was my monst...uh mother.
We keep a sense of humor about it because we have to. My father wanted us to put his ashes in little potted bean plants (his favorite food) so that we can say "that's daddy" whenever we watered them. I told him in my home he would just die again so him being ex navy, out to sea he went. I didn't mean to go on so long but this post opened a door. Sorry.
Steven, get over to Maddie's blog! He's got a very uplifting *cough* post for you!
Debra, thanks for the hugs, I try not to dwell on it too much, I find it can get you down, everyone goes through loss sooner or later.
Anne Marie, aaaah! Aaaaah! I can't breath, you're squeezing me too hard, you don't know your own strength! Lol, thanks for the hug. :)
I did and this morning she had two little babies with her. I was trying to get a picture without scaring her.
Thank you Christina. I mostly think of the good times, I almost never think of him being sick anymore. Time does heal some things.
I love the bean plant story. Thanks for sharing Deedles. The thing about losing someone close is that most people can relate.
Thanks for the heads up Deedles, I checked him out.... oh, ummm, errr I meant to say I checked the blog out, yah that's what I meant to say.
You must have had a special relationship with your father. I envy that feeling. My mother has been dead for a few years. I don't remember how many or the anniversary date. I don't miss her. I never think about her. I wish I could write something that would make you feel a lot better. I don't know what that would be other than your parents were good parents and they loved you. I wish I could give you a long and firm hug.
RJ, I would like that hug! I know I was lucky, I had good parents, that had their nutty quirks like most parents but they were good to us. Dad and I were closer at the end but we were not close before the age of 25 I would say. I think about them all the time.
It is hoped that with every year the sorrow goes down and what remains is the Love.
Dr Spo, I think nostalgia is ramping up the sorrow. Maybe sorrow isn't the correct word, more like missing him.
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