Our law firm office is in Taney County, so it’s our “home court” if you will. Today was my first day going back there since finding out about my father’s terminal diagnosis. My father has been practicing in Taney County for thirty years, so he has developed a lot of relationships there and he is well-known in the community.

I live in a different county, so I have a bit of a commute to work each day. On my way to work this morning I was thinking I hadn’t really cried in four days. That felt like quite an accomplishment, given how things had been going. I had no idea how hard it would be going back to our “home” and talking to the people closest to my father. I should have known it would be tough. I cried telling the judges in other counties, so why didn’t I realize how tough it would be? Most of the local attorneys already knew because I told one of the judges and I know he circulated the message. More on him in a minute. He was the brightest star of the otherwise rather dreary day.

I had an uncontested adoption hearing first thing and that was a very pleasant experience. Then I had to go to a trial setting in a different court room. That trial ended up getting continued, which was easy enough. Then, I ran into a friend in the hallway who had been practicing in our area as long as my father. He has a lot going on in his personal life too. He told me he and my father were crying together in the hall last week. My father keeps telling people he’s had a great life and prior to this nothing bad had happened to him, but I know he’s still sad. My parents gave me an obscene amount of money for my birthday to put toward the transmission we recently had to buy for our Yukon. My mother told me my father wanted to help because he knew he wouldn’t be around to help much longer. That really broke my heart.

Part of the issue may be that I know these people well, so I share with them more than I would with the people in other counties that I’m not as close with. I started sobbing talking to one of my friends in the “law library” (in quotes because there are no books… it’s really a lawyers’ lounge, but the sign on the door says “Law Library”). She’s lost both her parents, so she gets it. She lost her parents more suddenly, so it was a different experience, but obviously still extremely painful. Her parents died within six weeks of each other. The point where I lost it was telling her that I was sad I wouldn’t be able to go to my father for advice anymore. He has helped me through the worst points in my life and I hate that I won’t have him to help me with the problems I will have in the future.

Another issue may be that when I would see people and they would ask me how I was doing I didn’t say, “good” like I usually do. Everyone knows things are tough for me right now. So, I would say, “as good as can be expected” and halfway laugh about it. “It is what it is.” I should probably get that tattooed on my wrist at this point.

“I keep thinking I’m done being emotional about it, but I’m not.” I said repeatedly today as I teared up talking about my father. Everyone was kind and said something along the lines of, “of course you’re still emotional.” I saw one attorney who I used to work with while I was in college who came over to say hi to me before he left and told me to tell my father he said “hi.” I asked him if he’d heard my father was dying. He had not heard yet. He, and everyone I have told, keep saying, “let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you out.” I told my father today it is really nice that he has developed such great relationships that there are so many people willing to help us out.

I am hopeful I won’t really need much help. I’m not worried about the work stuff. I’m just sad about the personal stuff. When my husband first came clean about his morphine addiction, my father was the first person to really make me feel better about the situation. When I told him I felt so betrayed he said, “You have to look at it like a disease. He never wanted to lie to you or put his family in a bind. The addiction just takes the judgment away.” Having worked with addicts for years I knew that was true, but he was the first person to say that to me and it really helped a lot to be reminded that my husband is a really good person who loves his family deeply. The thought of not having my father to turn to if the shit ever hits the fan again is awful.

The judge I appear in front of the most was the judge for four of my hearings today. My father was his RCIA sponsor when he converted to Catholicism. He told me a while back he was making me a pocket alter and he had texted me last week and told me it was ready. He gave it to me after our first hearing this morning. It definitely made my day. I had told him last week he finished it with perfect timing. Catholics are something of a minority in our area, so he and I bond over our faith, among other things. I sent a picture of the pocket alter to some of my friends from church and we have plans to have the youth group prepare some for the home-bound members of our parish. He tells me the pocket alters are a Latino thing. They include a candle, incense, a piece of silver, an image of your saint, a prayer card and a rosary. I have been so excited about mine all day.

It was tough going back “home.” I had no idea it would be as tough as it was. Despite the fact that I felt like a total basket case crying so much, it was kind of nice to be reminded we have so many good friends who care so deeply about us.