Fall has never been a favorite of mine.  Summer draws to a close, the air becomes cooler and the days become shorter.  The chill in the air reminds me of so many things.  While many enjoy their comfy sweaters and nights by the fire, I am missing someone...my Dad.  It will be three years on October 22nd that he was called Home and aside from losing Mom, it was the hardest thing I've ever been through.

Dad's birthday is tomorrow, October 14th.  I know many people have heard the story about how I was supposed to come home to visit him for his birthday and how I was "too tired" so I stayed home.  A few days later, Dad got sick and ended up in the hospital.  This wasn't unusual...he was fighting cancer and he was in and out of the hospital a lot.  Mom assured me that it was nothing and I went about my day.  The next morning while getting ready for work I received a text from my best friend saying that she was praying for my family and that if there was anything she could do, just let her know.  While I appreciated her concern, I honestly didn't think too much about it.  Then I got to work.  I happened to check Facebook and saw a post from my Aunt asking for prayers for her brother who was in ICU.  My heart sank and I immediately called home.  My Mom answered and I could tell right away that something wasn't right.  I asked her what was going on and she told me that Dad had been taken to ICU and was on a ventilator.  I told her I was on my way and she said "what about work?" to which I replied (not so quietly) "Fuck work.  I'm coming." and I hung up.  I left the office and drove straight to the hospital...which seemed to take forever even though I was doing 80 the entire way.  My mind was spinning even faster.  I was hurt.  I was angry.  My parents always shielded me...never wanting me to worry, so in an effort to protect me, they kept the serious nature of the situation from me.  Their intentions were good, but I was still angry at them for not trusting in my ability to handle the truth.

When I got to the hospital, I couldn't get to my Dad fast enough.  I felt like I had weights around my feet as I ran from the parking garage all the way to ICU...it was if I was moving in slow motion.  When I got to my Dad, I saw the truth.  He was laying in a hospital bed unable to speak to me.  My heart broke in that moment.  I regretted staying home over his birthday and not seeing him.  Now he couldn't talk to me.  I looked into his eyes and I took his hand and told him "I'm here now."  His eyes opened wide and he squeezed my hand.  Hiding my tears, I talked to him and he wrote notes to all of us...some of which I still have.

The next few days were the hardest.  One day he would rally and the next minute he would decline.  It was an emotional roller coaster for all of us.  We stood by him and prayed, but it wasn't enough.  It was clear that he wasn't coming back, so we had to make a decision no family should ever have to make.  We had to decide whether we wanted to be selfish and keep him hooked up to machines or let him go.  With his brother and sisters, we decided to let him finally be at peace and with that, the papers were signed and the machines were turned off.  We each had time alone with Dad to say goodbye and in my time, I just sat there and held his hand.  I didn't say anything...I couldn't.  I didn't want him to know that I was hurting.  At some point a nurse came in and said "Talk to him.  He can hear you."  I leaned in, told him that I loved him and that it was okay to go.  I promised him that I would take care of Mom and that we would be fine.  A few hours later, I watched my father take his last breath.

My life changed that day, but little did I know that just a few short years later, my life would change yet again with the loss of my Mom.  Two of the strongest people had I known, gone in such a short span of time...and now I find myself facing a season of "firsts" once again.  Mom's birthday is November 1st, followed by Thanksgiving, then Christmas...two holidays that my family would always spend together.  The first Fall without Dad was hard, but Mom and I had each other and we saw each other through.  Next Fall got a little easier but our hearts were heavy with remembering.

Now here I am...it's Fall once again.  My heart breaks every year around this time and this year will be especially hard.  I'll make the turkey and decorate the tree.  I'll smile and remember the good times and through my tears, I'll celebrate.  I'll celebrate their lives, I'll celebrate the love they showed to me and I will miss them.

Make time for your family.  Hug them tight every chance you get.  When they call, answer and always end your conversations with "I love you".  I know it's cliche, but tomorrow is not promised...leave no room for regrets.

Forever in my heart and always on my mind.  I love you and I miss you more than you both know, Mom & Dad.

They say the only thing constant in life is change.  I guess I never really thought about that until recently.  As I sit here on the porch listening to the rain, I look around and I realize just how much my life has changed over the past two years or so.  My home has changed, my family has changed, my friendships have changed.  They also say change is good...but damn, is it hard.

I walk out the edge of the deck and look out into the yard.  It's quiet, peaceful...maybe a little too quiet.  In my mind's eye I see the past...the way things used to be here at the Crick (yes, crick...not creek.)  I see the old house in the yard.  I see Uncle Andy washing his car and tending to his gardens.  I see Earl puttering around in the sheds along the crick bank and LaRue and her owls.  I look down further and I see Anna Mae sitting on the porch of her little house.  I walk down past Anna Mae's and come to Pap & Tine's house...and I go in and "steal" an iced oatmeal cookie from the green cookie jar that Tine always had filled on the table.  Mom is out back hanging clothes telling my brother to be careful on the swinging bridge.  Dad is sitting at the kitchen table having coffee with Uncle Louie while Crystal and I are riding our Big Wheels around lane chasing after Virginia on her big bike while Daisy is calling after us, telling us not to dare go out that lane!  I see Julie, Randy, AriElle, Candy and Brandon visiting Earl & LaRue.

For awhile life is as it was and then all is quiet again.  I look around and it's just me.  The houses are gone, and those who once lived here are now just a memory.  All that's left of those days is Uncle Andy's house, remains of the crumbled root cellar and an old dog box at the edge of the woods were Hound Dog once lived...and then there's me, one of the last few things that remain here.  Like the old wishing well in Uncle Andy's yard, I stand alone.  I never knew it was possible for a place once filled with so much love to feel so empty.  It's an emptiness that I can't explain

Then I hear the crick rolling by, the wind blowing through the trees and the rain on the porch roof and I'm reminded that I'm not alone.  Mom is in the wind that brushes my face.  I hear Dad's voice in the babbling of the crick.  All those that have gone before me from this place are still here.  They are here in my heart and as long as I'm here, they will be too and just like the crick, I'll keep rolling along.

So I went on my annual vacation to Rehoboth Beach this year and it was a roller coaster of emotion.  Many things have changed in my life since my visit in August of last year.  The biggest of those being the loss of my Mom.  I debated on going or staying home.  What would people think of me out having a good time so soon?  But then I thought...Mom knew how much I loved the beach and how I always looked forward to my vacation every year, so I went.

On my birthday, I walked out onto the beach at dawn and watched the sunrise for the very first time since I started going to Rehoboth.  It was breathtaking and I could feel my Mom right there with me...it was indescribable.  I spent my days walking around town and laying on the beach just soaking it all in.  I didn't go to Poodle Beach this year as in all of the years past, instead I headed up to the less crowded, less "A List" North Shores...a welcome change from being surrounded by speedos and wannabe Ken dolls.

During one of my walks along the beach, I noticed a Mother with her young son.  She was taking him out to the water's edge and every time a wave crashed onto the shore, he'd run back into his Mother's arms screaming and crying...in fear of the angry ocean.  She would hug him and assure him that it was okay, and he would toddle back towards the water until the next wave came in.  Again, he would run and scream.  This happened a few times and each time I watched her calm her son and with her looking on, he'd sheepishly walk out and hurry back.  Then, I overheard something that literally brought me to tears.  The Mother took her son by the hand and walked with him to the water and told him..."Your Nana used to bring me here all the time.  She loved the ocean so much.  There's nothing to be afraid of...each time the waves gather at your feet, that's Nana coming in to say hello and she's giving you a kiss."  And with that, the little boy walked out to the water and finally dipped his toes in.  This time he didn't run away and cry.  He stood there and giggled...he waved out into the ocean and said "Hi Nana!"  It hit me so hard that it took my breath away.

So, I too walked out to the water and stood there letting the waves gather around me.  Each time, I felt my Mom and I whispered "Hi Mom."

I miss her so much that there are times it physically hurts.  There are times that it doesn't seem real to me, that she can't really be gone.  I miss both of my parents.  They were my safety, my home...but I know they will always be with me...and each time I visit the ocean, I will take time to walk out into the water, say hello and feel them both at my side.

Alan Guthridge 10/14/1945 - 10/22/2012
Cindy Guthridge 11/1/1953 - 7/19/2015

I'm a little behind on my writing.  I find it frustrating at times...trying to get all of my racing thoughts organized enough to put into words.  I sat here several times and just stared at the screen.  Nothing.  But some things have started from nothing and mine starts now.

A few weeks ago, I lost my Mom and it was very sudden...I was just talking with her that morning.  It was our usual back and forth about our night, the dogs, nothing important really, just talking.  By that afternoon she was gone.

My whole world changed that day.  I always said that losing my Mother would be the one thing that would do me in.  I really felt losing her would mean I'd need to be locked away for awhile, that I would just fall into a big pile of nothing.  I feared it...and two weeks ago my fear became reality.  But that reality wasn't what I thought it would be.  I didn't get hauled off to a padded room.  I didn't fall into a big pile of nothing.  I'm not really sure what I felt at the time...I don't remember too much.  I remember being in the pool and then getting the call.  I don't remember the drive to the hospital, but I remember running to the emergency room doors and seeing Don...and there was a lady with him.  She took me by the arm and lead me down a hallway...away from everyone.  I knew.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  She wanted me to go into a room, a "comfort room" they call it...a room where doctors deliver bad news.  I wouldn't go in.  I knew going into that room would mean I would have to hear what I refusing to believe.  I kept asking to see her.  I kept asking where she was.  Finally, the lady, who was the  hospital Chaplin, went to get the doctor.  The news was swift..."your Mother suffered a massive heart attack.  We did everything we could...".  That's all I remember.
The next thing I know, I was in a room alone with my Mom.  I sat by her side, held her hand, talked to her for awhile, the nurse handed me her rings, I kissed her forehead, told her I loved her...and I left.
The next few days were a blur.  I wasn't sure which way to turn, what was up or down, but what I was sure of was the fact that I refused to fall apart.  I asked so many people so many times "What am I going to do now?"  Nobody had that answer.  They would just hug me and tell me that I was going to be okay, things will get better in time.  All the usual stuff people say when someone dies and they don't know what else to say.

For the most part I am okay.  I miss my Mom terribly and there are times I find myself reaching for my phone to text her a picture of the dogs doing something cute or to ask her how she's feeling.  Then it hits me and those are the times I'm not okay.  Those are the times I completely break down...the times I sit and ask why.  I'm still working through the loss of my Dad which will be three years this October.  I fell into a very deep depression after his passing, but I refuse to go back.  I miss him everyday, but in my final words to him in the hospital, I promised him that I would take care of Mom, that we would be fine and that it was okay to go.  I never got that chance with Mom.  I didn't get to hold her hand and say goodbye.  I didn't get to tell her that it was okay.  She always worried about me and how I was handling Dad's passing and I often find myself wondering...was she scared?  Was she worried about what would happen to me?  Where was I?  Why wasn't I there?  Did she even know what was happening to her?

I wasn't there because I wasn't supposed to be.  I honestly think if I had been, I wouldn't have made it.  Somehow I feel as if I was being protected.  Maybe it was her still looking after me.  Maybe it was Dad trying to shield me from the hurt.  Maybe it was God who knows my struggles and knows just how much I can handle.

I'm making good on my promise to Dad.  I took care of Mom as best I could...I'm taking care of what needs taken care of and handling things as best as I know how. I'm holding it together...for now.  That's all I can really do, all any of us can do is focus on now.  Today.  This minute.  This second.  Right now.  Spending time in the past doesn't do any good because we can't change it.  Worrying about the future is pointless because we can't predict it.  The best thing we can do is stay in the present...at least that's the best thing I can do for me and that's the best advice I can give anyone going through something like this.  One day at time, one foot in front of the other.  Now.