Something Doesn’t Feel Right

12 thoughts on “Something Doesn’t Feel Right”

  1. I agree…people should mind their own business. I would never state an opinion about anything to that person or any other person about anything…so uncaring of that person. She never visited me or your dad in the hospital! I am so sorry you were treated that way so publicly on a “Carepage” of all places!

    1. I’m not really worried about it any more, but I’ve needed to get it out since it happened. I’ve been suppressing it to my own detriment and each year around this time I am reminded of someone implying that somehow my caring and concern for Daddy was not elevated to the same level as say you or Jennifer, and that’s just something that’s cut me deeply over the years. There’s no pretending or backtracking what was insinuated. I didn’t make it anyone’s knowledge that I was losing my job (was having trouble paying the rent, was driving to Richmond for training, et al) when all of this was taking place because it wasn’t anyone’s business. I wanted to set the record straight and be done with it. You don’t make judgments in situations like this. You don’t insinuate things. And while I know some people are just like this, and that (negativity, drama, conflict, gossip) is sadly what drives them each day, don’t involve me in it, particularly in a matter as grave as what was happening at the time.

  2. I’ll never forget daddy’s comment on 12/25/2008. “I feel like I have bone cancer”. I remember mama said “Wayne, don’t say that”. I just stood in the kitchen puzzled and confused why he said that. Strangely enough he had cancer, just not bone.

    1. I didn’t hear him when he said that, but I remember Mama saying it later. I’ve thought about this over the years and I’m kind of glad he didn’t go to the doctor immediately, that he waited a few months. He would have gone down the same road with the high likelihood of the same outcome with the same brutal treatment to dispatch of the leukemia. The only difference being that he would have died a few months sooner having started early.

  3. February and August are my worst months. February was when my mom was diagnosed both times and August is when she died. I understand how the emotions hit you in the gut when you think you’re finally having a good day. I admire your ability to write about it. I’m sure it’s therapeutic. Be strong. You’re not alone.

    1. (I apologize for overlooking your comment and for my delay in replying as result.)

      I can certainly understand where you are coming from. It’s this sort of light blanket you wear during those moments that serve as a reminder.

  4. You have this way of ending a post just when I’m eager to know the final outcome. I guess that’s life. But I look forward to a part 2 if there is one.

    1. Part II doesn’t have a happy ending. Unfortunately, as you said, that’s life. I have a different interpretation of death and post-death than I had before and even when my dad died. His physical body is no longer here, but he is still here with me and always will be. Not in an “angel” sort of way. Nothing like that. Life is continuation. That’s how I see death now.

    1. Thanks for the kind words Jørund. I’ve since looked at your blog as well, and it appears we have some writings in common. I hope to see you as a return reader. Take care.

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