Simply Carolina Dreamz » 30 Days of Truth » 30 Days of Truth.. Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

30 Days of Truth.. Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

I forgive you, Dad, for not wanting me to know you were ill.  I forgive you for going all those years, ill, and not wanting my help.  I forgive you for all those years, that I tried to be your daughter and it was inconvenient for you.

I am blessed to have been there, to bury you. I will treasure that like every other moment I was given time to spend with you.

I love you, Daddy and I miss you. Everyday.

 

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2 Responses to "30 Days of Truth.. Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for."

  1. Mindy Jeffers says:

    Dearest Heidi,

    I am SO sorry for the part I might have played in this situation, for your not being around during Michael’s last days. I was so frantically trying to hold everything together so he could have a peaceful ending – his care, his comfort, the boys, the place, my job, etc.etc. – that I let many important people and issues go by the wayside. My primary regard was for his welfare, his happiness, and spending what little time we had left together as joyfully as possible. I gave up the doctor, the dentist, even going to church, for myself. I refused to do any volunteer work whatsoever because of the time it would take me away from him. My friends had to understand that I was “not available” except for a quick hug accompanied by a shower of tears. I am completely amazed that anyone even speaks to me now, and that the people who have always so generously loved me continue to bless me with their spirits.

    Michael was also not “himself” the last several years of his life. I don’t know if it was directly connected to the ALS, or if it came from some other source. He basically seemed to have contracted an early form of Alzheimer’s, or a similarly debilitating mental problem. He could not reason or think deeply at all after the first part of 2007, and he became increasingly unfocused and confused until his passing two years later. If I even mentioned some “huge” problem – such as a terrible student at work, or a broken water pipe at home – he’d just smile and walk away. You know that wasn’t him – Michael always fixed everything, or tried to, from a broken door to a broken heart. But he went somewhere I wasn’t allowed to follow. That was the hardest part for me – losing my best friend, my closest confidante.

    When his sister Pattie visited, he hardly knew her at all, which, of course, broke her heart. He barely spoke to her about anything or even reacted to what she said. He mostly just wanted to sit and hold my hand, or watch TV, or sit outside on the swing and look at the birds and trees. It was almost as if he had already gone to some secret place inside himself where no one could visit. He did consent to go for long rides in the country with me or up to the lake, but we never really talked about anything “serious.” He especially loved to sing along with the CD player (and me) as we rode. I think now this was God’s way of protecting him, of shielding him from the horror of reality.

    I don’t want you to think you were an”inconvenience,” or that he didn’t love you. He did care about you, and your life, but he reached a point where all that he’d loved before had to be left behind, including me, Cory, and Davy as well. It’s so tragic to me that he didn’t really get time to know you as an adult, that he really became so sick, so long ago (I think it truly started in 2003), that everything turned inward.

    I should have kept you better informed of his going, his deteriorating, but again, I can only say, I’m sorry – I hardly knew what I was doing from one day to the next. Keeping any kind of normalcy in tact was as hard as nailing Jello to a tree. And, of course, we always think there’ll be time – time to let people know, to “fix” things. Ironically, I had made plans in my mind to perhaps either bring him to see you the summer of 2009 or call you to come see him, when he passed away that spring. Up until two weeks before he died, he was sick and suffering, but he could still walk short distances and talk and eat, etc. I thought we’d be able to manage – we even bought him a powerchair and were investigating a carrier for the back of the car. He only used the chair once that I know of until everything just escalated so quickly.

    Someday perhaps we’ll understand everything. We’ll know why things happen the way they do, and we’ll be able to forgive ourselves for all our shortcomings. Until then, we muddle through and hang on with all our hearts.

    Love, Mindy

    1. cdzsimply says:

      Dearest Mindy,

      I don’t blame you. You had your plate full. I know. I so appreciate you reading my blog. Thank you for your comment. This series will hopefully make me a stronger person. Its, also, helping me focus on school and some health issues going on right now. I’m getting stronger since my infusion, last week. I miss you.

      All my Love,
      Heidi

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