A Dream Stealer

The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering-galleries, they are clearly heard at the end and by posterity ~Jean Paul Richter

Today is my annual post in remembrance of my dad.  I do a post every October 1st, because it was on this day in 2001, that I last had the honor of speaking to and hugging my dad.  It was on this day, 14 years ago that I received the last bit of fatherly advice I would ever get and it was the last time I would ever curl up next to my dad so he could comfort me.

Anyone who knows me, knows that my dad was my hero.  Honestly, he was.  He was one of my absolute favorite people.  He was someone I looked up to, listened to, respected and loved.  He was ahead of his time, and was seriously so cool.  He really was.  He was smart, funny and quietly observant.  He provided well, loved wholly, prioritized his family over himself, and loved my mother completely.  He led by example and I know how very lucky I was to  to call him dad.

What I don't speak of too often though, is the cancer that took him.  The horrible, hateful, angry, mean, thoughtless disease that destroyed his body, altered our dreams and eventually took his life.

Before my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I had had run-ins with the disease.  I had friends whose parents had been diagnosed with it, an aunt who beat it, and had heard many terrible tales about it.  Nonetheless, I had never really experienced the blood chilling effect of meeting it...and watching it destroy the body of one I loved so much.  Before cancer forced me to pay attention to it...to understand just how cruel it could be, I had a lot of dreams that felt perfect...much different from their reality.

Before cancer, I had dreams of seeing my dad beaming with pride as I collected my diploma after earning my BA degree.  Before cancer, I had dreams of traveling with him...these were shared dreams that we discussed and built together.  Before cancer, I had dreams walking down the aisle during my wedding, leaning on my dad as he proudly placed my hand in Jonathan's.  Before cancer, I had dreams of announcing that I was pregnant with my children and seeing the joy and excitement in his eyes.  Before cancer, I had dreams of watching my dad rock my babies to sleep and then later, tell them silly nighttime stories...bringing some of my favorite childhood characters to life once again.  Before cancer, I had dreams of watching my parents grow old together, enjoying each other's company after years of sacrificing time with each other to raise our family.  Before cancer, I had dreams of having my dad come to my home, so he could help us with our garden and all the fix-its that he loved to taken on and to see the pride in his eyes as he helped us. Before cancer, I had dreams of being home for Thanksgiving, surrounded by family and looking across the table to see my mom and dad as they recognized that they were watching their legacy, together.

Cancer, however, came and changed all that.  It forced me to re-imagine my dreams...it forced me to settle for less.  Not less in that those events didn't matter as much, or weren't wonderful, but less in that not one of those dreams was complete.  It has prevented new memories and new dreams that include dad from being made...such a tragedy!  Cancer took someone who was so incredibly special away from not just those of us who had the fortune of knowing him, but all those who didn't; from my own children and my nieces and nephews.

All this to say, cancer isn't new.  It has been around forever.  How is it possible there isn't a cure?  How is it possible that so many of us have stories like this one?  The sad truth is that so many of us have had our dreams altered by cancer.  I know that there are amazing stories of survival; of beating cancer.  I am in awe of the survivors out there.  The ones who heard those awful words that cancer had moved in, and were able to beat it.  More than that, though, I don't understand why, after all this time, with all our medical advances, brilliant minds and unbelievable technology, there aren't more people standing with a giant S for SURVIVOR on their chests.  Why are so many of us victims of this disease and not victors over it?

I encourage all of you, my friends, to think about cancer.  Get to know it better...protect yourselves from it the best you can.  Get screened, be healthy, don't think it can't or won't happen to you.  It might.  It may change your dreams, and if there is a way to protect ourselves from it, to support the ongoing search for a cure, to support those amazing warriors who are fighting it, then I say take the action to do it.  Taking action can be as simple as slopping on some sunscreen and avoiding the sun and as difficult as holding the hand of a friend or loved one who has heard those life-altering words, "You have cancer."  Whatever action is taken, no matter how big or how small, it's one more step in the right direction.  The direction that points us to a reality where the cancer victors far outnumber the cancer victims...and I am hopeful that this is one dream that turns out to be a complete reality.

This is Getting REAL

Hello friends.  It has been a LONG time since I've posted anything.  Life here at the Dease house is pretty busy throughout the year...but when summer comes along, we just put our heads down and run from place to place even more than usual.

I see that I left off with a Grandparent's Day redemption story (glad I left things on a good note...).
From there we celebrated Laurels THIRD birthday (how is she 3?) and watched our girls perform in their annual dance recital.

After that, we entered into the busy month of June.  School let out, and the real fun began.  No rushed mornings trying to get Clare off to school, no packing lunches as we run out the door, no crazy hair day or crazy dress day to prep for.  Pure bliss!

We found ourselves doing the usual family things this summer like:  playing at the beach, playing with Munich, watching baseball, enjoying some good sister-time, watching movies at the park,  painting outside, playing at parks, and welcoming the tooth fairy into the home many times over...

Towards the end of June, we rented a car, packed the family up (minus Munich) and took off on a one-way road trip (we flew home...) up the coast of CA and OR.  We stopped in San Francisco the first night, then headed North from there.  We enjoyed the beautiful Redwood Forest (Jonathan, Clare and Laurel's first time visiting) and did all the required tourist activities like driving our car through a Redwood tree.  It was wonderful.  We stayed at lovely inns in the forest and along the coast where we were surrounded by the giant trees and plenty of elk, too.

Overall the trip was a success.  Jonathan learned that our daughters take after me in the car-sick category (poor them...) and experienced some side of the road puking (yuck!), and we endured a couple days of 100 degree weather, but each of us would pack up the car and do it again.  We had such an amazing time.  It was tough to pack our bags and fly home.  All in all our week away was amazing and all four of us are looking forward to our next Dease summer vacation.

Jonathan continues to travel often for work.  The girls and I took advantage of the summer schedule and his being away during the week to spend some extra time at my mom's house where we basically spent our days swimming with Grammie, picking fresh fruit from her trees, building sand castles, enjoying beautiful sunsets and playing in the rain during the occasional desert storm.  We love the freedom that comes with visiting Grammie in the desert.

Now, the summer is nearing an end and reality is starting to hit.  I'm not usually overly emotional about this kind of stuff, but I found myself sitting here, going through Clare's school schedule to update our family calendar, noting her dress code to put together a list of necessary back to school clothes, reviewing her classroom supplies list to begin my next Amazon order, and I realized that I am fighting tears.  My heart is extremely heavy and I'm just amazed that my perfect little baby girl, the human being who made me a mommy for the first time, is getting ready to START SCHOOL.  This isn't pre-school, this is Kindergarden.  This is getting REAL!

Clare is taking a huge step in finding her own identity and independence.  This is such an exciting time for her and I know that she is very ready to be in a classroom, learning and growing 5 full-days per week, but my oh my, I don't think I'm ready.  I thought I was, and I will be fine, of course, but my baby is taking her first significant step out of this nest.  It's the right thing for her; she knows it, I know it, we ALL know it, but she is taking a little piece of my heart with her - and it stings a bit lot.  I understand that much of what I'm feeling has to do with the fact that I've never had to be away from my kids during the day.  I have been so incredibly blessed to be home with them, and now that I am facing the reality of living 5 full days a week without Clare by my side, my heart is aching.

These days I find myself holding Clare a little tighter when we hug.  I've been asking her to cuddle with me a little longer in the mornings.  I find myself staring at her beautiful little face a bit more than usual.  I am trying to soak her up, trying to get as much Clare into my system as possible so that when my days begin to feel very lonely without her here, I can reach into those reserves until she is home, telling me all about her day, and my mommy heart is full again.

 

And if you think I'm having adjustment issues with Clare heading off to Kindergarden, don't even  get me started on how I'm feeling about Laurel starting pre-school two days per week...

So, I will stop this entry here.  I am off to get the kids ready for some time at the zoo.  I am going to try to enjoy these last couple weeks of summer as much as I possibly can.

I Have Totally Redeemed Myself!

For those of you who read this blog regularly (despite my recent neglect of it...), you may remember I wrote about my colossal parent fail last year, when I missed Clare's special performance for Grandparent's Day.  If you need a refresher on my failings, you can read about it here.

Well...the good news is that I MADE IT TO GRANDPARENT'S DAY!!!  We did it.  We were there.  Not only did I go, but I enlisted an entourage to join me.  Jonathan, Grampy and Oma-Oma were there, too (Oma and Grammie were unable to join us, but they were there in spirit).  Clare had a GANG of family to craft with, perform for, and show-off.  Redemption!

The sad part of this is that as Jonathan and I were sitting in the sanctuary waiting for the performance to begin, we realized that this is a HUGE event.  Last year she must have been so disappointed not to have anyone there to wave or sing to.

Well...we are moving forward friends.  My participation in today's festivities officially relieves me of the guilt I have been carrying for a year.  You will see that Clare is singing TO us...because we are there to sing to which I count as a major success!