anysia: (Invisible?)
I have 8 years worth of emails, photos, correspondence from my dad. I never delete anything from family. I might have lost a few due to hard drive failures, and caught between back ups, but I have most of them. I have been going through them, and it's a sad/happy/sad feeling because as much as many of them make me smile, I know there will be no more, and then the grief comes.

The distance, and not having the daily seeing of someone, lessened the initial grief, but I have found the last few days it's hit me in larger and larger waves.
anysia: (Moping)


Actually, no funeral. He has been cremated already. No flowers, but if you wish to honor him, make a donation to a local animal shelter in his name.

City of Live Oak: Shelter animals need good homes

He is going to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, full military honors.

I can't tell you how much I do NOT want that orange idiot attending or officiating. Draft dodger Donald is not welcome, not by a long shot.

RIP Dad

Jul. 9th, 2017 08:46 am
anysia: (Moping)



Richard E Tomac, aka Pop aka Dad, passed away Friday, July 7th, 2017.

So, so, conflicted as to how I feel. Very sad that he is gone, but relieved that he is no longer suffering.

Cancer really really sucks. :(
anysia: (Moping)
Called my mother. Step-father is still hanging in there. This really isn't what you can call a good thing, as there is no chance of recovery here. Do NOT give me any malarkey about miracles. They have jokingly saying he's waiting for the 4th of July. He's always loved fireworks.

No matter how much you know what's coming, there is no easy way to handle it, is there? I'm still having trouble processing it, as he was always such a strong force of nature. Seemed unstoppable.

Of all things, I am glad I mended fences years ago. As heartbreaking as what our family is going through now, regret would have just eaten away at me had I not just let go of anger and hurt, and just moved on.

Cancer still fucking sucks.
anysia: (Moping)
As much as a gut punch the news was, I would rather be informed than get blind sided. Cancer fucking sucks.

It came back with a vengeance. My stepfather is in hospice, palliative care only. He has made the decision of pain management only, no feeding tubes, no machines, no heroic measures.

I'm.. confused at how I feel.

Part of me is 'dad is dying', and it's a kick to the gut. He was the ONLY one who comforted me when my sister died, at the wake. If it hadn't been for him, I would have lost my eldest son to drowning, and not have 4 beautiful grandchildren.

The other part... angry that he's giving in, because my mother, although with a few creaking joints, is in good health, she needs him. I know she is a tough old gal, but she needs him.

Yet another part is relieved because I know he's been fighting cancer for decades and he is TIRED. So very tired. And he deserves to rest on his own terms.

Cancer fucking sucks.
anysia: (Sophs Cats)
I still use IRC program. I have friends in the U.S. that we have 'conversations' just about once a day, unless either of us has early morning (me) or going to be out working late, or going to crash early (them). Also use Skype

It's an inexpensive way to keep in contact, and not have to worry about being in my jammies, or mussy hair.
anysia: (Silver dragon)
I keep thinking about this past year. All the ups and downs, meeting new friends, keeping in touch with not so new friends. The trips, the vacations, the photo gear.

And when I think about all of that, it pales in comparison to the one thing that happened later in this year.

After 4 years of no contact, my oldest son, Paul sent me an SOS. And in that instant the 4 years of no contact evaporated. We talked for hours, and it was as if none of those empty 4 years existed.

A wound my heart had is gone. I no longer think of Paul, Collin, Jason, Joey and Bella with sadness. I smile now.

So, for everything that I got or happened this year, my favorite event was "Mom, can you call. I need you."
anysia: (Scrying)
That I have spoken to my eldest son, Paul, in quite some time. It wasn't for the best of reasons, but I don't care. He is going through a rough patch, (not of his making) and family is family. I've missed him, and I told him as much.

But then I did something even more important; I listened. I let him pour it all out to me, no judgment and only offered advise and my opinion when I was asked for it. He knew that if I thought for an instant that he was in the wrong, I would have landed on him (verbally) with both feet.

That wasn't the case.

And I'm still here to listen.
anysia: (Photography)
Maybe something we should remind families about photographs of family gatherings. Most of us, when taking photos at birthday parties, New Years, Christmas, etc etc pretty much want a chronicle of the day, when family and friends are with us. We don't get in their faces, like paparazzi do (well, I'm sure some do, but most of us don't).

The value of having someone do this chronicling of family events came home. The mother of dear friend of mine was ill, melanoma that went to the brain. for what seemed like an eternity to the family, but was really a very short time, she passed away.

The family was, as you can imagine, devastated. And the saddest thing was they could only remember what she looked like during her passing.

Although it ripped me apart, because Sue was my "Mommy Down Under", I went through each and every birthday, Christmas, etc etc, and got photos of Sue happy, healthy, being silly, wearing a funny hat. I sent them to her kids.

You have no idea how much that helped.

So, keep politely sneaking those photos, discarding the bad/embarrassing ones, because you're not just pestering them. You're treasuring them forever. And just maybe giving solace to someone who needs it.
anysia: (Stick Dancer)

Today, we visited An at the hospital, to take her out on a lunch date.  An is like a completely different person than the wounded soul that was admitted to the hospital 3 months ago. She smiled, laughed, greeted everyone with a pleasant demeanor, hugged, kissed. Although still woefully thin, she's no longer 'starvation gaunt' anymore. And it shows in her face.

Then we took her to lunch. Let's just say she is absolved from having to eat afternoon sandwich today. We even told her nurses this. Still amazed at what such a tiny woman can pack away. Also, she wasn't obsessing over oil in the food. We didn't see her squishing squid between to napkins to the point her nail beds were white, trying to squeeze oil out of it. She just ate... and ate, and ate, and ate .

She isn't fully recovered yet, but she is on the road to recovery. And in two sleeps (three if she drifts into a food coma this afternoon) she comes home!

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anysia

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