Journal Entry 1, Day 1, January 6th

This morning started off with an air of anxious nerves and bittersweet thoughts of Sheila, Daddy, and the people we are leaving behind. I calmed after recalling my sister Laura’s farewell video. Quoting Helen Keller, “Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all.” I’m not sure that is what everyone desires, but it certainly tugs at a longing in my heart. Laura also said not to worry about the loved ones we are leaving behind; to “leave us behind, including yourselves. Travel doesn’t become adventure until you leave yourself behind. While you’re away, collect moments, not things. Wherever you go, go with all your heart. Let the Lord and your own spirits be your guide.” Our kids had our loved ones make goodbye videos for this trip, and Ray patched clips of the videos together, surprising us at our farewell party. I had only seen Laura’s full video after having a meltdown this past Saturday. 

We took daily trips to the camper in Gainesville for a week, loading what we could, preparing for a year long trip. By the weekend, I had moved too much to the camper, and didn’t have what I needed at the house. Anxiety was building, as my stomach was in knots. Saturday night, I was overanalyzing the most unimportant steps in the trip, frantically trying to figure out how to get a flower arrangement to not fall over in the camper. After two hours of multiple trips to town, I finally gave in to the tears and let them fall. Ray and Mike watched cautiously, unsure how to help as I started to come apart. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I want to go, I promise.” At times, Mike worries about pushing me into this dream; this dream that belonged to him and Sheila. I remind him that for me, it’s never been a dream or goal, as much as it was a fantasy. My mind is protective of my sanity; making sure not to dream of things that will never come to fruition. I never knew to dream of this chapter in my life, but here it is. The reality has slapped me in the face many times over the past years; my fantasy, dream, happiness, and euphoria are born from the loss of Sheila’s life. Ray and Mike hugged me as I sobbed that this was not my trip to take. “Daddy should be here. Sheila should be here. I shouldn’t.” Ray said everything I was explaining reminded him of Laura’s message, and he thought it was a good time for me to watch her entire video. (Ray gives the best hugs, and at times it feels like hugging my Daddy as a little girl.)

Even though I never met Sheila in life, I feel I know her; through the stories, and the love she has woven like strong thread through the lives of those around me. Mike will get a look on his face after I say something, and I say, “That’s something Sheila would have said, isn’t it?” Chuckling, or groaning, depending on what I said, he says, “Yesss…”. Sheila is my friend, and I love her. It isn’t relevant that we’ve never met. I know her, and she is still alive within her children, friends, and Michael. She is a part of us. And as I tell Mike, “I enjoy a good threesome.”

Daddy has always been “my person”. He was my mentor, friend, role model, and hero. He was truly my balance, reminding me to be excited about life and adventure, admit when I’m wrong, listen to my mom, and make my job the most important thing because working smart provides the resources for playing hard.

One day, in the fall of 2020, Daddy met Rease and I at Zaxby’s restaurant before his appointment with Dr. Carter. Over 40 years seeing the same dentist will make you drive over an hour; and it’s always a good excuse to meet for lunch. After eating his fried chicken salad with extra chicken, Dad remarked, “I’ve got a knot on my jaw. I’m wanna see what Dr. Carter thinks about it. It doesn’t hurt.” Daddy’s large hand reached up to the knot on his jaw, the right side of his face. (In my mind’s eye, as I type this, I’m reminded of falling off the jungle gym in our backyard as a small child. Crying as my mouth bled, Daddy scooped me up. My head rested on his shoulder, at his strong jaw, my bit tongue bleeding on his white cotton undershirt. His large hand on my back, patting me with comfort that I was going to be okay.) I reached up and felt the knot on his jaw that was as hard as bone. My instinct told me it was not going to be okay, and that we were beginning a new chapter in our lives. It was to be.

Dr. Carter was the first of many doctors we saw before Dad decided he was done going to doctors. The surgical oncologist called me disheartened after the 10-hour grueling surgery. “I’m sorry. Every time I cut, there was more behind it. We had to put in a feeding tube.” He knew he should have stopped cutting; that it had gone too far. Lines can blur when determined to succeed. Sometimes one goes too far before realizing maybe it never should have started. I consoled the surgeon out of instinct. “It’s okay, you did what you thought you should.” They gave him 6 months to a year. He lived a bit over 2 years after the surgery, and died from pancreatic cancer, not even related to the adenoid cystic carcinoma. If he had never noticed the knot on his jaw, he could have lived 2 more years without a feeding tube. Though, we only discovered the pancreatic cancer because of the feeding tube. Daddy began vomiting the formula when his stomach filled too much. We realized his body was no longer absorbing anything. I pulled out with the syringe all the fluid I was putting in, hours after his stomach should have been empty. In the end, he died of starvation. It sounds horrible, but he wasn’t hungry. As hospice describes it, the hunger pangs dissipate quite early. His mind leaving was the hardest part, and as his body was too weak to stand any longer, he never wanted to give up trying.

Daddy had incredible determination when he set his mind on something. Even as he lost weight due to not being able to eat, he looked at it as a way to get down to his optimum size; setting aside the cancer diagnosis, he said he wanted to be the same weight he was when he got married. At the time I put it off as confusion from lack of nutrition, or from his stroke 13 years prior. But now I realize he was also determined to make the best of a bad situation. Lessons such as these is the framework of my relationship with Michael. (Since only this morning, I keep calling Mike, “Michael”. In the beginning of our relationship, calling Mike “Michael” was nothing more than there were too many Michaels in my life not to say his name differently. But since this morning, I keep saying and typing “Michael” in reference to Mike. Mike says I’m “Channeling my inner Sheila”. Maybe so….)

I moved in with Daddy April 2021, not long after his surgery to help my mom take care of him and the new challenges that come with having a feeding tube and being so determined to eat regardless of part of your jaw and throat being removed. He would choke and refuse defeat. His main nutrition came from the feeding tube, but mom would make him something to eat every day. It would take him over four hours to eat, but he still enjoyed the taste and smell of food. I told Daddy I would do whatever he wanted. It’s his life to live as he wants. Dad and I both believe euthanasia should be allowed for more than animals. That it doesn’t matter if he chokes to death if he has accepted the risk and wants to do it anyway. Life is truly short, and if he wanted to eat, he would die trying. Mom was not in favor of this as much, and I’m surprised his determination didn’t put her in an earlier grave.

In September 2022, I signed up for match.com. I was in no position to attempt to have a romantic relationship. It was a joke to think I had room in my life for anything other than work and taking care of Dad. At times, thoughts of having a friend nearby was appealing, even if it was an unrealistic dream. I wasn’t new to online dating. I had been divorced since 2018 and would occasionally sign up for a month before turning it off out of frustration. My profile on Match could not have been more direct. I don’t recall the exact words, but I remember thinking a movie might be nice, but when I was honest with myself, I knew I was only signed up because I didn’t want to go to my dad’s funeral alone. I ended my post with something like, “Don’t bother if you have a cat.” I had only been on the site for 2 weeks, had not looked at it much, and was ready to deactivate, when Mike’s message caught my attention. “I don’t have a cat.” The picture of him in his burgundy tuxedo at Sara’s wedding grabbed my attention.

“You don’t need a relationship even just a little?”, Michael said after a couple of meetings. I was so direct, straight to the point, and no nonsense. “I don’t need a relationship to have a good time. Life is too short to do anything but enjoy the moment.” (I don’t recall my reply verbatim, but it was something like that.) After our first camping trip, Mike and I sat there looking at each other, both thinking the same thing, this could really be something.

Mike fit himself in wherever I would let him, making excuses to come by “I’m on my way home from work”, for a quick hug or a smooch. He was so patient and understanding that I did not have the time to give, that cabin trips had to be canceled, or we would have to leave early. He could not have been more supportive, and in the end, he was there for the end. He drove me to Alabama, to Dad’s service; the church he grew up in, that my parents married in, that we celebrated his life in. I wish Mike and my dad could have spent more time together. They would have been good friends.

Daddy’s dream was to travel around with my mom in their RV. He wanted all the things that Mike and Sheila had been doing for years. Don’t we all want what Mike and Sheila had for years?

As I finish typing what was originally supposed to be a blog post, turned journal entry, we have arrived at our first destination. Even in the dark area surrounding the headlights of the truck, I can see the trees arched over the road and the possibilities around the corner.