Nobody sleeps through 'I love you'
June 1st makes me sad.
Loving my second dad was not hard at all. It was Teddy that taught me to drive, harassed the boys who dared date his little girl, gave me my rabid love of football, coached me on how to be grown up and loved me unconditionally through it all.
When we turned to hospice about two weeks before he died, they encouraged all of us to say what we wanted to say to him before it was too late. One afternoon, as he lay napping on the couch, I held his hand and poured out all of the things I was feeling; things I knew he already knew, but wanted to say anyway. He hadn't been totally lucid for several days, but I felt the need anyway. As I finished, I told him that I was thankful for having him in my life, and that I was going to miss the hell out of him because I loved him so much. As I kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes and said "I love you too." I was shocked, since as I said, he hadn't been lucid for days. I told him that I didn't mean to wake him, I thought he was sleeping. He replied, "Nobody sleeps through 'I love you.'" Those were the last words he spoke to me; he died the next day.
And now, six years later, June 1st still makes me sad.
Loving my second dad was not hard at all. It was Teddy that taught me to drive, harassed the boys who dared date his little girl, gave me my rabid love of football, coached me on how to be grown up and loved me unconditionally through it all.
When we turned to hospice about two weeks before he died, they encouraged all of us to say what we wanted to say to him before it was too late. One afternoon, as he lay napping on the couch, I held his hand and poured out all of the things I was feeling; things I knew he already knew, but wanted to say anyway. He hadn't been totally lucid for several days, but I felt the need anyway. As I finished, I told him that I was thankful for having him in my life, and that I was going to miss the hell out of him because I loved him so much. As I kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes and said "I love you too." I was shocked, since as I said, he hadn't been lucid for days. I told him that I didn't mean to wake him, I thought he was sleeping. He replied, "Nobody sleeps through 'I love you.'" Those were the last words he spoke to me; he died the next day.
And now, six years later, June 1st still makes me sad.
posted by kcterrilynn at 8:02 AM
10 Comments:
i think someone could use another spackler hug.
i have to say you are a very good writer. even i get emotional sometimes after reading your comments. (keep that between the two of us..i don't want anyone getting the wrong idea)
hope you have a great weekend!
Spacks: Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Ya big softie.
This is the first time I've read your blog.
It made me cry. In a good way.
Thanks.
it's been a couple of rough days for you. "hugs"
I knew I should not have read this, but I did and hear I sit with tears streaming down my face. I was just talking with Sue last weekend and she stated that it was hard to believe that Don has been gone almost four months. I told her that Friday would be six years since Ted passed and soon it will be 27 years since dad passed. I think about it all and it seems just like yesterday, but it also seems like an eternity.
Luv ya-
You will always have that wonderful memory. And that's something to be joyful about.
Kaycie: welcome and I hope you come back
Kate: yeah, it has. Thanks for the virtual hug...I needed that.
Sis: I know exactly what you mean. Some days it feels so fresh that I can hardly breathe.
Hedy: thanks and you're right, I will always have that memory...and so many others. And I love your new profile pic...very pretty.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
I like reading your blog. I've added you to my blogroll.
My blog is password-protected (stalker problem) so please email me:
webmaster@shamelessagitator.com
and I'll give you the info.
That's beautiful and sad. Sorry for the hurt.
Talk with you soon.
You made me tear up lady. If you have to have "last words" those are some to live by....
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