Why is that hospitals have the ability to make time stand still while simultaneously making it seem as if a year as already passed?
It was an emotionally rough day as well. I had not stepped foot into a hospital since I had lost Emmerson and Vivienne. So that, in and of itself was something major for me today.
I feel like I held everything together pretty well. However, on the ride home, I broke down. So many emotions of loss, gain and gratefulness just overwhelmed me.
I am thankful my dad made it through the surgery. Extremely grateful! And with that, I guess I realize how easily things could have turned out differently.
Because they did.
A little over six months ago, when I stepped into that hospital, I believed that the surgery would fix things and I would get to take my girls home.
Things turned out differently than what I had expected six months ago.
So, today, when I entered the hospital, I didn't enter with any expectation. Just hope.
My tears are falling as I type these words. So many emotions that really don't even have a name. So many emotions I don't know what to do with.
I am a daughter who is glad her father made it through a major surgery. Tears of joy.
I am a mother who grieves the loss of two of her daughters. Tears of deep, indescribable grief.
I am a person who feels like I have been dragged through a wringer. Tears of bone tired exhaustion.
I will be able to joke around with my dad and be able to hug him again. So why can't I get to hold my precious babies once more?
So many tears of emotions with no name.
My dad made it through the surgery. Before I left the hospital at 9:00 pm, his breathing tube had been removed and he was breathing on his own. He was talking, rather hoarsely, but he was able to talk and I was able to hear his voice again.
I was able to hold his hand and he was able to squeeze back. I don't take these small miracles for granted.
He made me laugh without intending to. If anybody knows my dad, he almost always intends to make someone laugh or at least, smile.
He kept begging for something to drink and pleading with his eyes. He was persistent with his request. It made me laugh because he reminded me so much of my living daughter when she so desperately wants something.
I didn't leave until I saw that my dad had received his ice chips. Those small miracles I don't take for granted.
He told me his side hurt. I told him that was good. I told him that it should because that was where he was cut open.
The pain is good because you can't feel pain unless you are breathing in air. Unless you are alive.
I left with a smile because my dad made me laugh. I drove home with tear flooded eyes because I am grateful, because I have lost, because I grieve, because I am blessed. Always blessed.