Season 3 of Ted Lasso premiered yesterday. I love that show because it blends soccer and real human emotion in such a beautiful way. There are also dead dads, so that’s certainly meaningful at the moment.

During one part of the episode one of the characters talks about being so busy she schedules her cry sessions and accidentally doubled booked her cry session and her lunch with a friend. That feels pretty relatable at the moment. I don’t know that my cry sessions are scheduled, but I’m constantly trying to focus on keeping my shit together until I get to my car. In the episode the friend says crying is wonderful and that during the worst time of her life she didn’t cry at all. I really like thinking about it that way; like our happiness and stability require us to have the full range of emotions.

I woke up not feeling spectacular today, so I slept in a bit and worked from home until my morning hearings. My father called me while I was at court. I stared at the phone for a few seconds debating on whether to answer it. Prior to his diagnosis, I would have declined the call and called him back after my hearings. Now, though, every phone call feels like it could be his last so I stepped out of the courtroom to answer the call.

I had mentioned to my father yesterday that I wanted to have a staff meeting at the office because I feel like we had all just been in survival mode for months. So, I feel like we need to start discussing what the “new normal” looks like. My father was calling to see when I was planning to have that meeting because he would like to be there too. I told him it had to be Monday at 4:00pm because my schedule is crazy next week. His hospice nurse normally comes on Mondays, so I told him if he couldn’t make it that was fine. He said he would be there and then asked if he could cover anything for me next week. I politely said, “No, I’ve got it handled.” The reality though is I cancelled his malpractice insurance, he shouldn’t be driving because of the now 150 mg fentanyl patches and hydrocodone/morphine, he gets confused easily, and his appearance has become quite shocking. He now weighs 150 pounds (he weighed around 250 pounds most of my life) and is quite yellow, even his eye balls are yellow. My father said he plans to be at the staff meeting because he wants to tell everyone face-to-face that he won’t be working anymore (everyone is already well-aware of that). He made a comment about not getting paid anymore. I told him, as I have said repeatedly, that I will continue to pay him as long as he’s alive. His hard work is what made the firm what it is and I think its only fair to keep paying him. I know it won’t be long, and I also think it will be helpful to my mother for him to continue to get paid.

My father started crying saying he didn’t think he was going to last much longer. He told me he loved me and ended the call. It was so hard to go back into court after that. I took a couple breaths to try to compose myself then I went back in to the courtroom. I know a couple of the other attorneys saw the tears and the Judge may have too, but that didn’t bother me and they didn’t ask me about it. I was just trying really hard not to start audibly sobbing. I somehow powered through and made it back to my car before I started sobbing. I had the following text exchange with my husband:

I wrote my last post in between juvenile hearings, so I don’t think I was as focused as I normally am when I sit and write at the kitchen table when everyone else in my house is in bed. I’m sure it seems contradictory that in one breath I’m saying I was awkward talking to my cousin because I didn’t want to cry and in the next breath I’m saying it doesn’t bother me to cry in front of people. One major difference I didn’t highlight is that when I was talking to my cousin my father was around. I really don’t want to cry in front of my father because I really want him to believe that I am strong enough to get our family through all of the things coming. Also, while I’m fine with the tears, I have not reached a point I’m really comfortable sobbing in front of people and lately it seems like the conversations can morph into that rather quickly. As I said to my husband, I think most people would shed tears if their father was dying. I just don’t want to be completely losing it with the uncontrollable sobbing and all that comes with that (racoon eyes and black tears from the make-up; red, puffy face; dying seal sounds; etc.).

Pro-tip: when you’re car crying turn the A/C on full blast pointed directly at your face and turn the seat warmers on. The cold air helps with the redness and puffiness of the face and eyes and the heated seat keeps you from shivering. I was doing that during all my car trips today.

We represent one of the local sewer districts and the administrator reached out to me today to see if I would accept a plaque they got for my father at their monthly meeting next week. I told him I would be honored, and I would try my best not to cry. He told me not to worry about that at all. Like I said, I think most people get it.

Another of our long-time clients came in to sign some things today and I started crying all over again talking with her. I’m not sure why I even bothered putting make-up on today. I used to keep my make-up bag in my car, but just this week decided I wanted to be one of those people who is put-together enough that I do my make-up before I leave the house (instead of at stoplights on the way to work). So, my make-up bag is now in my bathroom. Terrible fucking timing for me to decide to be a grown-up. This client said her father died slowly over a period of time and her father-in-law died suddenly. She said she thought the sudden death of her father-in-law was probably easier. I am not sure what is better, but in this instance I am grateful we had some warning. I told her I wouldn’t have been able to make the slideshow what I wanted if I hadn’t had months to work on it and it would have been harder to transition the firm if we hadn’t had any warning. Watching the decay and seeing/hearing my father cry so much is really fucking hard though.

We had a great time with my parents in Hot Springs, Arkansas over the weekend. They got to the Airbnb a couple hours before us. My mother texted me to let me know the place was amazing. My father told me several times throughout the trip how wonderful the place was. It had a pool table, which I had not seen in the pictures. That was so amazing. My parents taught the older kids how to play pool and they are all hooked now. I have great memories playing pool with my father’s family, so it really meant a lot to me that my kids got to have that experience with my parents.

The next day we went to the horse races. That was a small fiasco in that I didn’t know the best place to park or what entrance the kids would have to go in (they can’t use the casino entrance). So, we had to walk more than we should have and that really took a tole on my father. We had reserved seats and my mother brought a pad for him, so he did ok once we got seated. My mother was helping the kids place bets and they loved that. We won a few times, but they were only $2 bets so I assume we were somewhere close to breaking even by the end of the day. We didn’t stay for all ten races. I think we left after race seven, but it was overall a pleasant experience. Walking back to the car went much smoother, as I actually knew where we needed to go by that point.

The Airbnb had a hot tub on the back deck that overlooked the lake. It was really great. My father got in with my kids a couple different times. One of the times my younger boys, my parents, and myself were all in together my eight-year-old started talking about wanting to go to the Kentucky Derby. I told him he couldn’t go this year because his first communion was that same day, but maybe next year. He said he wanted to take Nana and Grandpa with us next year. None of us said anything. My father eventually told my eight-year-old that his parents had gone to Church Hill Downs once and loved it. I mentioned a glass they had brought back for us that had all the Kentucky Derby winners up to that point. We no longer know where that glass is located, but I really like it. I spent a lot of time studying it. It even had symbols to indicate whether the winner went on to win the triple crown and whether the winner was a filly.

At one point Saturday evening it was just my father and me in the hot tub. He started crying, thanking me for including him in this. He told me how proud he was of me and how, as far as he was concerned, I had been a perfect daughter. All I could say was, “I’m grateful for all the time we’ve had.” Like I said, I really don’t like crying in front of him and I felt like adding, “I just wish we had more time” would make things worse. When I was talking with that client of ours today she said, “You spend your life hoping and praying that you see your kids grow up and get married and see what kind of people they become, but then you get selfish and you want to see that for your grandkids too.” She was talking about how she’s sure my father is dwelling on all the things he’ll be missing.

Two of my grandparents died before I even graduated high school. My paternal grandmother met two of my children, but I was pregnant with the third when she passed. My oldest two may have fleeting memories of her, but they were still two and four when she passed. I remember when I got pregnant as an unmarried teenager my maternal grandfather was thrilled. When my mother told him he said, “That’s great. I was afraid I wouldn’t live long enough to see any great-grandchildren.” I wish my father was going to be around for more of the big moments, but I am trying to focus on being grateful for the moments he has experience with us. I’m grateful I had children so young so my kids will have memories of my father.

Back to the hot tub… we shared a big hug and I told him I would be able to handle things. As I say all the time, there’s nothing to worry about its just sad. I’m so glad we got this weekend with my parents. I feel like it was more than I even hoped for and I know we made memories that will last. My parents left Sunday morning. I think all the walking Saturday really did a number on my father. The kids and I stayed until Tuesday and hit up a few places on the National Parks Service app before coming home.

My mother told me today that her step-mother’s friend is a hospice worker and she said in her experience people who try to keep going like my father end up crashing hard and dying pretty quick. My mother said when she mentioned that to my father he got upset and said, “what am I supposed to do?” My mother told him she wanted him to just keep living life the best he could. If he goes fast, at least he got to squeeze as much life as possible into the last bit. They have a cabin booked in Ponca, Arkansas for his birthday weekend in three weeks. I don’t know if he’ll still be able to travel then or not.

I feel awful saying this, but at this point I think it would be best for it to go quick. This waiting game feels kind of terrible right now; watching the decay is heartbreaking; and my father hates feeling like he isn’t helping. He has always been one who was constantly busy (something he certainly passed on to me) and he was always trying to help the people he cared about. I know he hates not being able to help. That’s why he keeps offering to cover hearings for me when we both know damn well he can’t do that anymore. When I talked to my father yesterday it sounded like he hadn’t really been out of his recliner since Monday. They upped his dosage of fentanyl yesterday, so maybe that will help improve the quality of life. It’s such a difficult feeling being torn between wanting every single memory we can still get and wanting my father’s suffering to be over. God only knows the plan at this point.