Living His Cancer & Journeying on..

Mans Best Friend, Forevermore

I’m sitting in my family room reading and waiting for my brother to come home from school around 3:30. As I’m reading I hear my yellow Labrador retriever, Brady rustling and notice him sitting in the front of our main door waiting. He is silent, and patient- but he is pensive, as if he’s wondering if “he” will walk through that door today.

That “he” is my father. Dad used to walk through that door at about 2:30 every Monday through Friday. My mom would tell me how she caught Brady waiting for my dad daily for months after his Death last January. But every so often, she’d catch Brady waiting for him again as I just did today.

It’s amazing at how brilliant our pets are; how they actually are family members who understand so much more than we give them credit for. Watching Brady wait for dad and then eventually give up and return to his room makes me want to cry. I share the same longing my dog does for dad to just walk into the house at about 2:30 from work with a briefcase and heavy footsteps and his welcoming ice blue eyes and famous greeting “howdy!!”

Moments like these- the smallest moments are the ones that shatter my heart he most.

A Visit and Rebirth

Today I visited my dad’s grave for the first time since the funeral last year. My mom was hesitant to take me and my brother today, and I understand why; its grave (the adjective). But, even though I think about and talk to my dad absolutely everyday, standing above the ground where he’s buried felt like the first time we really spoke. It was almost as if the ground below me was breathing. I very well fell into a trance state today during the visit, but regardless it was refreshing because now that i’ve dealt with the sting of knowing my dad is gone, I have the ability to visit, to share, to have officially conquered my fear of his grave site. 

I know that I was in a state of depression during 2011. I lost myself in my sadness that I stopped taking care of myself, loving myself, and giving myself credit. I drowned my sorrows in vices that have only left me insecure. But with a new year here, I feel empowered to move past my sadness to learn to love myself again and to take the life of my dad, the joy of who he was with me in everything i do. He wants me to be happy, he asked me to be brave; and im officially ready to be. 

Here’s to my reawakening and my dad. 

Chapter 2012. Page 1 of 365. Let’s begin.

(Source: justjon-jon, via amandalee3292)

Made It Through The 1st…

I’m really satisfied with myself and my family because together, as a family we made it through the one year anniversary of my dads passing from Pancreatic Cancer. One year ago today I was in shell shock, wearing the exact same “Newport” sweatshirt (of my dads).

This morning me and my family went to mass where my father was remembered among our parish. The attendance at mass demonstrated the real family that we have; the people who really do care about us, the people who will be there until the end. My family headed back to my home afterwards where we did two things that I know pleased my dad. One, we watched the Patriots clench the #1 seat in the AFC East. Secondly, my family and I sat around our kitchen table together, laughing about all the wonderful stories and memories of my dad. His jokes, his thoughtfulness, his silliness. All the characteristics that made him so freaking great. My dad wouldn’t have wanted us to be sad, because he wasn’t a sad person.

Today, was a good day, because we celebrated- and that made me feel closer to my dad. I love you dad, 1.1.11

Ringing in a New Year and a New Chapter

The first day of 2011 was the worst start to year for me last January. My father who was battling stage 4 pancreatic cancer was told by doctors on New Years Eve that he’d be able to come home the following day, to begin Chemotherapy treatments and fight this deathly disease. However, on the morning of January 1, 2011 the fate of my family took a turn for the worst; the cancer had spread thought my dads entire body over night Andy’s only had hours to live. I spent my New Year in 2011 watching my father speak his last words, share his last smile, take his last breath. I thought I had seen the last of the most important man in my life.

I carried the pain and sadness I felt over loosing my dad into my everyday life throughout the year of 2011. I forgot what it felt like to let go, to just be happy, to find joy in the simplest of anything. In truth, I was a miserable fuck.

However after ringing in 2012 with my mother and brother dressed in PJ’s and the memories of loss, I found comfort knowing that not only is my dad very present in our lives, but more importantly he wouldn’t want any of the three of us to continue our lives in sadness and torment. He’d want us to continue our lives, to enjoy everyday just like he did, to be generous as he was, to offer a helping hand as he always did And to be yourself as he never shy’d away from.

I firmly believe now that it was my dads time to go, back in 2011. My dad had achieved such a level of grace, that his job on earth was complete and his powers were meant to serve better in heaven. God’s angels are the best of the best, my dad was ready to serve, to continue a greater story for all of us.

My resolution for 2012 is to be more like my dad. Usually I walk around with a stick up my ass. I’m uptight, moody, insecure, over analyzing, stubborn and whiny; everything my dad was not; and I love my dad for that. For 2012 I vow to be like my dad.

I’m not going to vow to loose weight because I like carbs too damn much. I will not spend less money because shopping in therapeutic. And While I do very much want love and a relationship, I will not force one.

For this year I will learn to live with the grace and kindness of my dad. I will smile more, eat what I like, listen to the music I want, give to others, not freak out over stupid shit, give my self more credit, feel confident about who I am, stop being insecure, and stop over analyzing every moment in time because my dad wasnt like that, and I respect him for it.

I’m tired of crying over what I’ve lost or over what may change in the future. I can’t ALWAYS be in control, it’s just that simple. Im ready to have a fresh outlook on life, and I’m even more ready to live like my father, George Henry Savella.

The Need to Reconnect..

Maybe it’s the holiday season that is mustering up my need to reach out to my blog again to openly talk about my dad, but for the past couple of days now sadness has certainly loomed over my family as we try to get through the holiday. Christmas was always a favorite holiday for our family, but since my dad passed, traditions don’t matter anymore and the emptiness felt is a hole deeper than ever. all i want for christmas is my daddy. 

i remember this week of december very vividly from 2010. Last week, one year ago, my family and I learned that my dad had cancer. this week that is coming to an end was the week my family and I spent every day at Rhode Island hospital while doctors had my father for survey and tests to determine what stage of cancer my father was in and how quickly the cancer was spreading to his body. 

I remember that last year, my dad was released on Christmas Eve and Christmas day from the hospital to be with family because he was strong enough to handle it. It’s funny because, while my family and I saw my dad’s holiday release as a glimmer of hope that he could battle this killer, today I feel like the reason the doctors let dad come home was because they knew he didnt have a chance. 

on christmas day we went to my aunts house, per usual. my dad wore a golden yellow collared shirt that was too big on him because of this dramatic weight loss and a pair of sandals because his feet were too swollen from his body lashing out at him to fit in regular loafers. my dad’s face was ghostly white, and hallow. but he was still here, so we remained hopeful. my aunt took pictures of our family together everyone forcing a smile to cheer up my dad even though we all hurt so badly. my dad was so weak, so tired, it took all his energy just to smile that day. 

over the next two days he grew incresingly sicker; he couldnt walk on his own, use the bathroom without support, couldn’t eat. this was NOT my dad. but he was still alive. days later we rushed my dad to Mass General Hospital in despiration for active help by doctors who knew what the fuck they were doing unlike RI Hospital. It was there my dad passed away on the New Year, January 1, 2011…. 1.1.11. 

The last words my dad said to me was “my darling daughter be brave for your mother and brother..” and every single day I try to live his words whole heartedly. For a while I had found comfort in blogging, in sharing my feelings, my wishes, my regrets- but over time I felt strong and didnt need to write out my sadness. Though, as it is in any perioud of mourning, my sadness has returned. My absolute, devistating sadness is back and I feel as though I’m drowning in it. 

Our Nature to Observe Others in Tragedy

Today I spent my first day in the heart of Chicago. I must be honest, as soon as I got off the plane I felt like Dorothy away from her Kansas. The Midwest is different, both geographically and demographically, socially, etc. However what struck me more than any observation I’ve made today was a terrible accident I witnessed while shopping down the “The Magnificent Mile” of Michigan Avenue. I ran over to a scene out of Grey’s Anatomy or ER; two young children were struck by a taxi cab while crossing the street. They were two young black children, who seemed to be brother and sister, both no more than 10 years old. They lay on the ground still yet crying for help, cut and scraped, bloody. The family of the children were screaming and crying, calling relatives and asking any and all on the street to help while everyone impatiently waited for an ambulance and firetruck to arrive. Crowds of people grew is abundance, asking questions, taking videos and photos, some even in tears. This pool of people grew and grew and grew so much that it cut off all traffic on the busiest street in Chicago. Once paramedics arrived the chaos only heightened as they struggled to place the severely wounded children still on the gurneys and into the ambulances.

What is it that attracts us to human pain? Why do we as people take it upon ourselves to watch the pain other endure? Yes, as complex organisims we share and endure similar emotions, needs to help and be helped, as well as an undying curiosity; but at the same time where is a level of respect served for other who themselves are in pain?

What i find even more interesting is that after the spectacle of those children was through, families and couples alike simply continued on with there days as though there was not a are in the world. We continued to shop, dine, laugh, discuss; all in disregard to the pain we’d previously witnessed. So that brings me to my last question, when does our natural compassion for others stop? And further more where does compassion and curiosity work into the greater scheme of things?

I mean, I was there. I was one of those people who eventually walked away and wiped the few tears from my eyes. I walked away and grabbed a coffee and shopped around for a new couch.

untitled.

its not that i dont want to commemorate or honor my dad; he deserves it all- LITERALLY the man should have a nationwide parade for the amazing person he was. But, I’m tired; I’m tired of the salutes, the dinners, the plaques. With every commemoration I feel as though I’m reburying my dad all over again. No one understand the pain you live through until you yourself lose a parent. The pain is so immense, its impossible to stammer through it. Every day is just as hard, just as lonely, just as quiet, just as numbingly painful. Am I a bad daughter for being exhausted by the apologies and the stories, the need others have to mention is in every way possible, asking me “how “we’re” doing?”. We’re doing terribly, DUH- it’s not a dog I lost. 

I haven’t needed to use tumblr for a while now, I’m been coping and grieving on my own and have been handling myself with as much strength and poise as possible- but now, I’m just annoyed. I need new scenery, an escape, a tunnel to cross through that allows me to keep living, moving, being on my own. 

reliving a new silence

i have just completed a two (ish) week period at manhattanville college working as an orientation staff member with 16 other incredible people and a devoted staff. I began my time at school feeling out of place, old, unsure of format and function but soon found all my worries to fall into place. I drove home today; away from those 16 friends and an orientation that was more successful than any other I’ve ever been apart of sort of broken hearted. 

in january when my father passed away, i became all too familiar with silence, having one less person, presence, and voice than youre used to. while this silence continues to keep me uneasy and vulnerable i’ve come to adjust, to live with it.

the 16 people that i’ve come to know and adore through orientation are family to me. while ive grown closer with some over others; having found ties, commonalities, and endearment with all i can easily say that being without them already is a silence im revisiting. 

i have a month to wait until i can reunite with my friends while i seem to have decades until my dad and i will be together again. its a waiting game, and whether i wait a week or a lifetime, everything will fall into place. 

Saying Goodbye ( again?)

A Day for Dads & A Day to Remember My Own

It’s less and less that i feel the need to tumblr about my dad. when he first passed, blogging felt cathartic, like a medicine that temporarily relived my pain. relaying the emotions with really anyone who wanted to read, more so just knowing that i could let out my frustrations freely was in fact a godsend. but with a day like father’s day here, it rekindles the endless questions, anger, sadness, missing that i have for my dad. 

Our relationship was a friendship. I’ve always known how lucky I was to have such an amazing relationship with my parents; we seldomly fought, lived and loved so well together, but being with my dad was an experience of real friendship more than parenthood. We shared the same love for classic rock, cherry chapstick, dirty jokes, sports, sarcasam, dumb movies, and pointless conversations. He got me, and now that he’s gone I realize that I’m more of my dad than I ever really knew. 

I still will never know why God needed my dad when he did. I’ll never rationalize how someone who was in perfect health could just grow tumors on his pancreas and how in just two weeks it could destroy his entire body. I will never ever understand how he was taken from my mother, brother and I with what felt like a flash of light. I try so hard every day to rationalize why WHY God needed MY dad. I don’t want to be angry with God anymore, but I feel cheated, I do. My dad will not be there to watch me receive my college diploma, he’s not there to cheer me on when I get my grades at the end of a semester, my daddy won’t walk me down the aisle at my wedding, can’t hold my first child, he’s not there to laugh at my sarcastic humor whereas anyone else just doesnt get it. The void created now that my dad is gone is so immense, so massive, so unbelievably huge it makes a day like today suck that much more. 

When dad first passed away, we had support from all over. People from all walks were there to reach out a hand, an ear, a hug. But what i’ve found is that over time people forget that my dad is still gone and his family still suffers the pain of his absence everyday. A piece of me is actually forever gone, cut out, and will not ever return again. It’s an empty feeling that no one understands until they loose that piece themself. 

If my dad could come back, for a day even a minute I would hold on to him so tightly and not let go. I would kiss his cheek and rub his calloused hands that I always made fun of. I would stare into his eyes, as blue as the Atlantic ocean and I would tell him just how much I loved him and everything that I did love about him. On this father’s day don’t take what you have for granted. Let your dad know every good thing about them. Observe the attributes of your dad; his mannerisms, appearance, smell, laugh, smile, blink- observe it all- and then look at yourself, and again observe, because remember he is part of who you are, and it is such an awesome thing to be. 

if i die young

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, well

And I’ll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little, cold finger, I’ve
Never known the lovin’ of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand, there’s a
Boy here in town who says he’ll love me forever,
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life.

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell them for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you’re really gonna need them

<3 dad <3