68 degrees and sunny. It's winter but it doesn't feel that way today. We just had an ice storm. I woke up, put a jacket on, and walked my dog. I drank a shake for breakfast. I started watching a movie. During a commercial, I took my dog back outside. I didn't even bother with a jacket. I figured I'd be ok for a few seconds - just a quick trip outside. Then I felt the warmth. I really noticed it. And I noticed the sunshine. And I knew. I knew I needed to find somewhere to go. Somewhere to let the sunshine pour over me and hit me in the face and spend some time just enjoying it. A few short months ago, I couldn't feel the warmth. The sun could be out but it wasn't out for me. I couldn't enjoy it. I just walked - numb to everything around me. My world was so closed off and I could barely see anything that wasn't right in front of me. It was dull. Today I was anxious - actually for the past few days. I was in my head. I had a training coming up - CPR training. Yeah, so?
So, I started reliving the last moments I saw my dad alive. I can remember every detail and every fuzzy moment around me. I remember the moment I started to mentally prepare myself to perform CPR. CPR. On my dad. In the middle of a store. I was in shock and could not believe what was happening. I didn't have to do CPR. He talked to me. He was coherent. I am bawling at this very moment thinking about it - writing about it - trying to provide enough detail to why this is is significant, but also be respectful of this very private and painful experience for my family. While part of me knew he was dying, the other part of me knew if he could just make it until help arrived that he would be ok. That he would survive. I remember the exact moment he went unresponsive. EMS kicked it into high gear. I started making more calls. And I hear "does he have a DNR?" This moment cannot be happening. How did we get here? You have to respond. You know what your dad wants. I know he was fighting. I watched as they tried to get him to respond. I remember what I heard and what I saw. I remember what I didn't see. I remember what I said. I remember what I didn't say. I remember the moment I caught a glimmer of hope. The female paramedic waved her hand frantically for me to rush over. He was becoming responsive. I remember. I remember. I remember.
But this post isn't really about the details. It's about my struggle with today. My struggle to get my CPR certification renewed. How could I spend my time until the training? I was nervous to go. I kept getting emotional and thinking back to the day dad died. Thinking back to those moments of doubt. Those moments of guilt. Those moments that were out of my control. I have beaten myself up day after day wrecked with it. I have played out so many scenarios. So many vantage points. But I still had to do the training.
So what did I do all day? I watched a Hallmark movie. I took a shower. I ran a couple errands. I went to Starbucks so I could sit outside and enjoy the sun. I don't like coffee. I don't go here much. I never remember the sizes. I ordered a grande (it was the first size I saw) iced black tea lemonade and an almond croissant. Dine-in still wasn't open so I stood waiting for my order. Then I heard my name but saw no drink. She tells me she's brewing a fresh batch of tea. Tears start trickling down my face - barely noticeable. I could wipe one. Then one more would fall. It hadn't really hit me until that moment - until smelling all of that coffee. Starbucks was one of my dad's favorite places. He went almost everyday and even started meeting up with a couple buddies. Then covid. Covid really mucked all that up. This was the first time I had been to one since he died and memories just flooded in. I'm sure the barista thought my tears were a bit extreme for having to wait just a little longer for my drink. Or maybe she didn't even notice.
I got my drink and croissant and headed outside. There was a guy with headphones on. It was windy. I forgot my sunglasses.I had to sit facing away from the sun. This meant my hair would blow all in my face. I looked ridiculous trying to eat this croissant and hold my hair back. But I didn't care. I wanted to be in the sunshine and I was going to sit right there and let that happen. I pulled out a package of 30+ colorful pens. I pulled out a color wheel of emotions. I pulled out an unpublished blog post. My therapist wanted me to find all the emotions in it and identify them. To recognize them. It was full of red - anger. It was full of orange - scared, confusion. There was a little yellow - hopeful. I spent 30 minutes holding papers down that were trying to blow away. Wiping tears from my eyes and blowing my nose into a little brown napkin. Underlining and circling page after page. And with all of that - all of that emotion - I still found myself to be a little happy. I was proud of myself for wanting to do something and then doing it. I was glad I took the time to feel the sunshine wash over me.
I went to therapy and from there I went to CPR training. The instructor knew my dad. I could tell she meant it when she said she was sorry, when she said she was shocked, when she said she just loved him and he was one of her favorites. I believe that. So many people felt the same way. I asked a couple of questions during training. It was probably annoying for the people there. It was annoying to me that I asked. But I made it through it. I didn't break down, even though my voice got shaky.
And there are days like this sometimes. Anxious days. Emotional days. Days that just feeling the warmth of the sun feels like an accomplishment. Or days where you battle yourself - your mind - obstacles of your own creation - unwelcome thoughts and memories. That was today. A random Tuesday. 68 degrees and sunny.
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