i had no idea

I suppose I could post this on the other blog, but some people do read that one, and I don't want to seem alarmist. I don't want more inquiries, or people stopping my kids in church, or calling, or asking questions that we don't have answers to, but still, all of this feeling has to go somewhere, so here we are.

I had no idea.

From the moment I knew my mother was terminally ill, from the second she died, I prepared myself. Someday I would be a mother. Someday I would have kids. Someday they would be forced to say goodbye to me - whether it was at 6, 26, 56 or 86 -it was going to happen - and damned straight they'd be better prepared for it than I was.

For starters, there'd be some traditions - bedtime stories every night, homemade birthday cakes, magical Christmases, finished baby books, journals written to each kid. By God, when I kicked it - those kids were gonna have something to work with.

I was prepared - like those people that prep for the zombie apocolypse - I save notes and photos and charm bracelets and everything possible to prove these kids are loved - Loved - LOVED in all caps.

As much as it broke my heart, I assumed I'd be my mother, I was prepared to be my mother, I knew how to be my mother.

I had no idea how to be my father.

I never saw myself with the shoe on the other foot - telling my five year old that her daddy can't read her a story, can't do the daddy-daughter dance with her. I didn't consider what life might be like if I were the one left behind.

But now, it's all I think about.

When someone you love has an undiagnosed illness, and undiagnosable illness, it fills your every waking breath. It fills your sleeping ones too. It smothers you with anxiety, and sadness and gratitude for the time you have and fear for the time you might not. It becomes your whole life.

That is what my life is now.

The night sweats come so often that we barely sleep. His fever fluctuates throughout the day. His headaches are unbearable. He is losing weight. He tries to get through the day, but he struggles - more than I have ever seen him struggle before.

So I pray.
I pray and I cry and I wish on stars, and lucky pennies and fountains and anything else that might help him. Two months and nobody knows what it is. At this point we just want to find the dragon - when we find it, then we can tame it, slay it, even prepare for it, but until we know, the wait is excruciating.

And suddenly I don't know how my father did it. Forget how he might have screwed a few things up - how did he even get out of bed? How did he feed us? How did he put a roof over our heads? How did he hold down a job? How did he LIVE?


I don't know - I just know that somebody, somewhere shows this to my kids someday, so they will know I tried.