I saw Megan yesterday and she joked that this blog may as well be called "Amy's Blog" because I keep writing so many entries. Once I started writing about you, I couldn't stop. One memory sparks another, and another, and everywhere I am something reminds me of you and I want to write about it. I hope it's okay with you, Dad, because it's really been therapeutic for me to do this. But, I also know how private and discreet you were and I wonder if this really would be okay with you, after all.
That last night in the hospital you were really agitated and out of it, not making a ton of sense. I was alone with you for a few hours, and you were pretty annoyed with me because I kept stopping you from taking out the various wires attached to you, from taking off your oxygen mask and starting the horrible machines beeping loudly with their warning signs.
At some point, I went to go ask one of the nurses a question and when I came back you said "Amy, don't embarrass me!!" I was horrified. I said, Dad, what are you talking about? Of course I am not embarrassing you. It really broke my heart a little that you thought I was doing something to embarrass you, as if your situation weren't humiliating enough, as if all of your privacy hadn't already evaporated.
And so I really do hope that these essays don't embarrass you, Dad, because that is the last thing we want to do (I assume I can speak for Megan here too).
At your memorial service, I felt a similar need to talk about you. You were well aware of my fear of public speaking - fear being a euphemism for complete and utter terror. When I took that public speaking class a few years ago, you encouraged me. Still, it didn't do much for me and I seriously dread speaking in front of groups of people larger than three.
But, at your memorial service I couldn't seem to help myself, I felt like I simply had to say something. Like I owed it to you. And like I wanted to make you proud. Maybe nothing had ever been important enough up until that point to make me conquer my fear, or maybe it was the Xanax I took before the service. Either way, it was the first time that my fear of public speaking was over-powered by my need to say something. I think you would have liked my speech; I think you would have been proud. I hope you like these entries too, because I really can't help but write them.
xx
a
That last night in the hospital you were really agitated and out of it, not making a ton of sense. I was alone with you for a few hours, and you were pretty annoyed with me because I kept stopping you from taking out the various wires attached to you, from taking off your oxygen mask and starting the horrible machines beeping loudly with their warning signs.
At some point, I went to go ask one of the nurses a question and when I came back you said "Amy, don't embarrass me!!" I was horrified. I said, Dad, what are you talking about? Of course I am not embarrassing you. It really broke my heart a little that you thought I was doing something to embarrass you, as if your situation weren't humiliating enough, as if all of your privacy hadn't already evaporated.
And so I really do hope that these essays don't embarrass you, Dad, because that is the last thing we want to do (I assume I can speak for Megan here too).
At your memorial service, I felt a similar need to talk about you. You were well aware of my fear of public speaking - fear being a euphemism for complete and utter terror. When I took that public speaking class a few years ago, you encouraged me. Still, it didn't do much for me and I seriously dread speaking in front of groups of people larger than three.
But, at your memorial service I couldn't seem to help myself, I felt like I simply had to say something. Like I owed it to you. And like I wanted to make you proud. Maybe nothing had ever been important enough up until that point to make me conquer my fear, or maybe it was the Xanax I took before the service. Either way, it was the first time that my fear of public speaking was over-powered by my need to say something. I think you would have liked my speech; I think you would have been proud. I hope you like these entries too, because I really can't help but write them.
xx
a
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