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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Open Wounds

I am not sure of the reasons but lately I have been having some extremely vivid dreams of my Dad. Dreams of my Dad healthy and happy are rare and always leave me feeling uplifted when I wake. Unfortunately my dreams of him almost exclusively involve him dying, leaving me waking up feeling despondent. 

My dreams of the past two nights have been especially upsetting because of both the content and the vivid nature.  In my dream we are back in my Dad's hospital room, preparing to be released to home hospice care. Looking into my Dad's eyes I recognize the same expression that I saw 16 months ago when this dream scenario was real.  It is as if I am replaying the video through my sleep.

I don't know why I didn't recognize the expression in real time, and why it has taken me over a year to realize what he was trying to communicate. He was terrified, and needed me to be patient. I think he knew that going home on Hospice care meant imminent death. He was scared.

Instead of being patient, I was pragmatic about the situation. Perhaps it was my own survival instinct, but I knew that it needed to be done and was working towards making the transition a reality. His transition to Hospice became my new "to-do" list.

I wish I had just slowed down and held his hand a little longer. He wasn't ready to go home. As I was packing up his hospital room, I think he surrendered to the reality that he was terminal. Transferring from the hospital bed to the transport gurney, I witnessed the last time my Dad's feet touched the ground. He had tears in his eyes as he was wheeled out of his room and down the hallway for the ambulance ride home. I am haunted by bearing witness to my Dad accepting and ultimately acquiescing to death.

I know that I could not have halted his death, but I do think that I could have been more patient during his struggle. I find myself wracked with guilt for not doing more, for not being more loving and for not staying in Texas longer.  He died four days after I left. I know that he wanted me to stay, but I left anyway.

I have been on an emotional roller coaster since these dreams surfaced. I have a difficult time even verbalizing my feelings without crying.  I'm typing this blog with tears streaming down my cheeks, hopeful that putting words to my emotions will help heal this newly opened wound.


  1. My dear friend,

    Let me start out by stating that I think what is happening to you at moment is extremely healthy. Grief is I’m sure you know has stages. The guilt that you may be feeling is a natural part of the self actualization of the grief process. I fully believe that dreams are a way for our subconscious to bring emotional trauma to the light of day.

    When you dealing with here is one of the greatest mysteries of life; and that is death. All the worlds religions have been created to try and answer what happens to our consciousness after the body ceases to be. No one has ever proven what happens to us. So the human mind has built faith. What I do know from the sounds of your blog you are an extremely healthy person and you do well. Does the grief ever end? Not really, my own father died when I was but 21 and I still mourning his loss but that’s part of our life. Be well my dear friend.

  2. Your feelings are normal. I have the same dreams about my mom. Wishing I had visited more often. Held her hand. Laid next to her in bed and reminiscences more about the good times.

    I can't tell you not to feel one way or another. They're your feelings. But please know that no one else is judging you for being human. Cry if you need to. Then focus on the good parts.

    Hugs. You done good, chickie.