Remembering Sweet Sammi

Two years ago today, we said goodbye to our Sweet Sammi. A little Terrier mix who ruled our home, loved us unconditionally, and left her paw prints forever on our hearts. She came into my life at just 6 weeks old, a little furball who looked like a gremlin. She was 17 when we had to have her put down on the sad Sunday, Sept. 13, 2009. She was such a good dog, although totally misunderstood. She was very protective and had poor vision, which meant if she didn't know you, she would bark her head off at you and could sound pretty scary despite her 14 pounds.

A very young Sammi with my little sister.

She was my baby. When I met Mike, she had to grow to like him and of course she did. He loved her and spoiled her just as much as I did. She lived to be with us, to protect us, and to love us.

Stylish in her little diva sweater

We were lucky that she lived a very healthy life. She was only sick for a few days when very quickly, her breathing became very labored and after a couple days, we realized it was time to take her to the emergency vet. It was a dark, dreary, rainy Sunday afternoon when we said goodbye. I was lucky enough to hold her when she left us. When we left the emergency vet, the sun was out and there was a bright rainbow across the sky. I knew then we did the right thing, no matter how hard and sad it was. And since then, I think of Sammi everytime I see a rainbow and know that she is watching over us.

Snuggling with Mike

Dogs are with us for such a short time and they accompany us through different times of our lives. I was 20 years old when I got Sammi and she went with me when I moved in with Mike and made a home for the three of us. She was my comfort through our infertility heartbreaks and was always ready to curl up with me and love me. Sammi, along with Mike and I, made up our little family. She will forever be a part of us. We love and miss you Sammi.

Christmas 2008, our last with Sammi

January 2009 - one of my favorite photos of our Sweet Sammi

Reflection

I wrote this on Monday, not sure if I wanted to post it… But I decided that is what my blog is for. So, here goes…. My heart and soul are here for all to see in this one.

I did something on Sunday I had not done in many months. I drove by the hospital. I’m not sure what possessed me to do so as normally I avoid driving past it. When I finished my walk Sunday morning over the causeway, I headed home. This time, I turned onto the street that would take me past the hospital. Not only did I take the street that would take me past the hospital, but I turned ONTO the street the hospital is on. What was I thinking?

I pulled into the parking lot and sat for a few minutes. The parking lot that I pulled in and out of two, three times a day for 30 days when my dad was there. It seemed the same, but different.

As far as the building itself goes, it’s a nice building that faces the gulf, with Clearwater Beach and Sand Key in the distance. It’s a pretty view. But the building itself holds so many feelings and emotions. Walking in there when he first went to the emergency room due to his stomach pain, hoping and praying that whatever it was, was not serious and he would go home soon. Leaving the same day knowing he was being admitted and likely would have to have surgery. The day of the surgery when there was concern that afterwards, he would have to go into ICU due to his age and condition. The elation of his surgery going well and knowing he did not have to go to ICU, but rather a regular room for his recovery. Within 36 hours, the tone began to change and walking into that building took on a stronger, heavier meaning each time, as he was in the critical care unit for days until he finally started to recover. On Friday, Nov. 19, my mom and I took him home. I drove past the parking lot where him and I sat, his first time out in the sun in two weeks. He still was not 100% better but to see him up out of that hospital bed and in his wheelchair and outside was wonderful. He just needed to go home and finish his recovery.

The trip back to the hospital the next night would again change everything. Running into the emergency room, knowing he was being rushed there by ambulance, after possibly having a stroke. How could this be? He went home just the day before, all of his doctors agreed he needed to be home. For the next two weeks, I would come and go every single day, spending 12+ hours in this building. As much time as I could, I was in his room in ICU, the rest of the time I was in the waiting room. Our family took the waiting room over and the hospital never said a word.

This is the hospital that our doctors send us to for routine tests as needed. I’ve had surgery at this hospital myself. My hubby has been to that emergency room twice himself. All the times we had been there, we left well. The day my dad passed away, I walked out of there seeing it as a totally different building, one that I likely would have a hard time ever going into again.

It’s a very strange feeling to leave someone at a hospital. To say goodbye to a loved one, to my Daddy, and walk out of the building knowing he is still in there. Of course I know now that he left there with us and is with us everywhere we go. But I still remember that day very well, it is all very vivid in my mind and likely will be for a very long time. Just being in the parking lot again, I felt a wide range of emotions. Mostly sadness, pain, hopelessness – all thoughts of missing him and knowing I will never see him again. But I also felt a tiny bit of relief. I certainly was not relieved that he had passed away. No… My relief was in looking back on those 4 weeks in the hospital, mostly the last 2 weeks when he was in ICU, and that he did not have to go through that anymore.  All the tests, procedures, dialysis, and so on that he endured, most likely without even knowing it.  Being on the ventilator, having a feeding tube…. All the things that had we ever had a conversation about it, I know he would now have wanted. The big question then was to do a tracheotomy or not. I struggled with that a lot in those days, as we all did, knowing in my heart that he would not want that, but struggling with the thought of having him for one more day. I am glad, now, that we did not do it. It would have been one more thing for him to go through needlessly.

What happened in that room that day we said goodbye was the hardest thing I have ever been through in my life, but it was also an amazing day. My dad was surrounded by people who loved him and we all had the courage to hold his hand and say goodbye and watch him leave. He always knew he had us with him and I hope and pray that he knew we were right there with him that day, at that moment.

Will I drive by the hospital again? Probably so. At some point it’s likely I’ll have to go inside should the medical need arise. I’ll face that when the time comes. It’s still very surreal and I still have moments where I can’t believe that he’s not here. Tomorrow, the 4^th, will be 8 months. 8 MONTHS. I know where I’ll be… Watching the sunset at Crystal Beach in his memory. We love and miss you every day, Daddy….

Running through the tears...

I had a good walk/run today despite the unbelievable humidity. But in typical fashion, the run part of my efforts turned into me into a blubbering, teary-eyed mess. I am not sure why, but it's more common than not for me to cry when I run. I am not a pretty runner or even a good runner, but it's certainly not physical pain prompting my tears.

Between the endorphins that are kicking and just the release I feel in being outside and taking time for myself, I start really thinking about my dad, and on come the tears.

I miss my dad and wish so much that I could talk to him and see him and hug him. I think of him many times, every day, but I am so busy that those thoughts and memories, sadly, tend to get pushed aside in the craziness of my day. But when I am running and I have the miracle of an off-switch for the work stress and more that floods my mind daily, the thoughts of my dad fill my heart and mind.

I am okay with the tears and the thoughts I have of him durning my run. But it sure makes it tricky to see some times. By the time I am done, I am totally d-o-n-e. Worn out and exhausted. I have always said that walking is my therapy and good for my mental health, and for the depression tendencies I naturally have. I believe that even more after I've had a good cry, running through the park. I need that time that I take for myself, tears, thoughts of my dad, and all.

Seven months today...

Today is 7 months since my dad passed away, specifically at 1:53pm. I cannot believe more than half a year has passed since the saddest day of my life. I miss him terribly, not a day goes by without thinking about him.

I am so thankful to have had the relationship I had with him. I know there are many who are not so lucky. I saw my dad at lest 5 days a week, if not more. We were always close. He was stubborn and often drove me batty but I loved him so very much. I had 38 years and 10 months with him, all of which went by much too quickly.

I think very often of the 4 weeks he spent in the hospital. I have never been on such an emotional rollercoaster as I was then. I spent every minute I could at the hospital. Somehow I kept the business going with as little time from me as possible and I am thankful that my hubby understood that I needed to be there every minute possible. Even in those last 2 weeks when he was not with us most of the time, I still had to be there to sit by his bedside, hold his hand, rub his shoulder, waiting and wondering what would happen.

Of his 4 weeks in the hospital, he was home for one day and there was one day I did not make it up to see him. It was the day before he went home for one day, his first stay. He was feeling much better that day and they predicted he would go home the next day. I used that day to get caught up on work and even worked late. I spoke to my mom a couple times throughout the day to check on him. I remember very well one of the later phone calls when he told her to tell me that he missed me and he loved me. The one day I could not make it up there and I felt SO guilty... But I know he understood why I could not be.

As hard as those final days were, I am thankful to have had them. He was surrounded by family, even as far as California and New Jersey. I have never shed so many tears in my life as I did those last days. And while I know that we made the right decision, it is still the hardest decision ever made. It is not fun to play God and decide when it is the right time for someone to die. And while we, unfortunately, never had the important conversations that we should have that may have made it all a little easier (although easier is not the right word), I think we all knew in our hearts that he never would have wanted to be in that hospital bed with all those tubes and machines keeping him alive. When he pulled his feeding tube out on what would be his last night, he was making it very clear what he wanted.

I miss you every single day, Daddy. I put on a brave face and go through the each day as I should and as I need to. But you are in my my thoughts and in my heart every single minute. Like I said to you in your last moments.... You were the best father ever and I will miss you forever.

I love you, Daddy.

I miss you Daddy...

Today is 6 months since losing my dad. The ups and downs I have had in those 6 months have been like a roller coaster. It is still so surreal to me that he is gone. He was such a huge part of our lives, the center of our family, to not have him here anymore leaves a hole in my heart. I miss him so much.

He always did everything he could to support his family, never taking no for an answer, and always determined to do the best he could despite his limitations. He did more from his wheelchair than most people will ever do walking. To say he was an inspiration is an understatement.

People tell me I will never get over losing him, that I will just get used to him not being here. I don't know about that... How do you get used to not seeing someone you saw just about every single day?

His hospital stay is still very fresh in my mind. A total of 4 weeks in the hospital, his last two weeks being the hardest as he would come and go and there were so many unanswered questions and decisions that had to be made for him. It was hard making them but we all know we made the right decisions. Despite that, his last few hours were the hardest thing I have ever gone through and watching him leave us will always be a bittersweet memory. Saying goodbye seemed impossible to do but I feel blessed to have been there with him and my family. Daddy always relied on all of us to be there with him and for him - and that's exactly where we were right up till the end.

Missing you today and every day Daddy.... I love you.

The first of many...

On Friday, I thought "I need to remind Daddy that Monday is Valentines Day". Habits are certainly hard to break. I have always been Daddy's little reminder of birthdays and anniversaries. When I realized that I would never need to be that reminder anymore, it made me sad. There are going to be so many firsts this first year that he is gone. We went through the motions of Christmas without him, his favorite holiday of the year, still so fresh from having lost him just weeks before. Then my birthday. And now Valentines Day. His birthday will be a hard one but we will celebrate him. We will have a whole year of firsts, the biggest one of all being the anniversary of when he went into the hospital, and then the day we said goodbye. People tell me that I will never get over my dad being gone, rather I will just get more used to it and learn to live with the fact that he is not here. Almost three months have passed and it is still so incredibly surreal that he is not here. So maybe, I'll just remind him anyway when a birthday or anniversary comes along. That will make me feel a little better, right?  Daddy, don't forget today is Valentines Day so you can send a little extra love our way from up above. We are all missing you...