I'm Going to Miss You Harry

Unfortunately I again find myself in the terrible position of reporting sad news. Another member of my family has died and way too soon. We lost Harry Climenson on April 6th. Harry was married to Amy's mom Cheryl and so I've known him almost as long as I've known Amy. Since Amy was 27 when they were married, she never called Harry her "step-dad" she just called him her "Harry" (as in when introducing them to people: "This is my mom and this is my Harry". It just made more sense). Harry was such a constant presence in our lives that hard to accept that he's not going to be there anymore. Yeah, I know I can "keep him in my thoughts" and "keep his memory alive" and all those things that people say when someone dies. I'm sorry, but that's not good enough. I just want to have dinner with the guy again and I can't (Harry was a phenomenal cook and Amy and I enjoyed many a meal that he prepared. Seriously, the guy could tear it up in the kitchen).

I don't know where I currently am in the Kübler-Ross model but I think I'm jumping all up and down the scale. When I heard that things had taken a desperate turn for the worst I simply couldn't understand it. We had just visited him in the hospital and while he certainly didn't look like he was going to run a marathon anytime soon, it did seem like he'd at least be able to go home soon-ish. I figured we'd all help him adjust to whatever the scenario would be (I had envisioned him having to retire from his job, tote around an oxygen tank, and give up his beloved game of golf) but we didn't get that chance. On Sunday the infection he had contracted got worse and the doctors decided to put him into a medically induced coma to help his system fight it. They moved him into the critical care unit and tried everything they could to knock down the infection and the reverse the damage it was doing to his lungs. They simply weren't successful. All of this forced Cheryl to make the hardest decision she will ever (hopefully) have to make. Let me be clear here: It was the absolute right decision to make. But that doesn't make it any less heart wrenching and awful. I've buried both of my parents and a mere 5 months ago we lost Amy's father but I can't imagine what losing a spouse must be like. Let's not think about that right now ok? Ok.

I have to confess that this hit me a lot harder than I had expected. I think I can attribute this to making myself more present in the moment this time around. I didn't allow myself to retreat into my favorite defense mechanism. That's where I disassociate from what's going on and everything feels like I'm watching it all on a TV. It has its uses but I do tend to rely on it too heavily. So much so that I'm not really sure I've ever honestly confronted my own feelings about losing my parents all those years ago. And every time since when I've had to go to another funeral for an aunt or uncle I have watched myself wander through the proceedings and say all the things people say from a tiny monitor somewhere far away. Not this time. This time I forced myself to be present. At the funeral when Cheryl sobbed, I felt that pain like a rabbit punch to the kidney. When I looked over at Harry's long-time friends Tommy and Vic and saw the hurt and sadness in their faces I let that sink in. I tried to not shrink away from any of it. I think I was successful but goddamn that shit hurts.

So now what? I don't know. We have to figure out what to do next as a family. I have no idea what this will mean or how it will all pan out but it has to somehow. It always does right? I'm guessing it does because we're all still here but I can't remember how any of this works. Maybe it just does? No, that's bullshit. As a matter of fact, that's borderline defeatist. I'm not saying we have to work every waking moment but I'm certainly not putting any "faith" or whatever you call it into some higher being to make everything all better. People make things work or not work. I'm determined to make things work. I'm not saying I can "make it all better" but I can make sure that it is less shitty. That may not seem like much but that's all we have. This is our new "normal".

Shit. I don't know what I'm even talking about. All I know is that I'm really sad that he's gone. I'm going to miss you, Harry. Rest in peace.