Wednesday, May 9, 2012

RIP PapaMess

In case you missed me and were wondering where the hell I have been over the past month, I wanted to share that April was a horrific month for my family as we lost my father's battle with cancer.  MamaMess and I were with him, holding his hands as he passed away peacefully.  So I haven't felt much like blogging...until now.

Since I suck at tackling difficult situations... I will just present my thoughts as a Frequently Asked Questions post.

Wow. I am so sorry to hear that, HauteMess. How are you?
A friend once said, "True strength is holding it together when everyone would understand if you fell apart." And I think I have been extraordinarily strong. I promised my dad on his death bed that I would take care of everything - his business, my mom, my brother, the funeral, etc. I cried at his bedside and told him that I didn't know if I was strong enough to shoulder everything. He simply replied, "You will be," as a few tears escaped his eyes. And I have been.
I have been too busy to be anything but strong. (other than the one day that I allowed myself to order pizza and ice cream and breadsticks and cookies and catch up on DVR)

No, really. How ARE you?
Heartbroken. Confused. Sometimes angry. But I hold it together, because he would have held it together and I want to be just like him. 

Have you been writing at all?
I continued to write blog posts while I was in the hospital with him, but I wasn't sure if they would fit in with the blog...after all, they aren't very funny. So, I will post a couple of them this week to honor his memory and my experience...and then back to the stories involving #singlewhitegirlproblems, dating drama, and all those moments that could only happen to me.

What is today's post about?
I wrote the post below one night because I wanted to capture all of the "in the moment" advice that I would give to any of my friends who may go through the same thing one day. I also wrote a story about my dad being the largest man in the world and a list of what I learned from him. (I actually read the last one as his eulogy at his funeral...and if I could make it through that, I can make it through anything)

WHAT CANCER HAS TAUGHT ME: A Non-HauteMess-like Blog Post

  1. They say that if you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans. This is especially true with cancer. The expected outcome is almost never the actual outcome. So stop planning. Stop expecting. 
  2.  You may never feel smaller or younger than you do at the moment you find out a parent won't live forever. You will never feel old enough to deal with it or ready to say good bye. It just aches in such a life changing way that you will never feel prepared. 
  3. Always pack more underwear than you think you need... Then throw in some more. I felt a little silly packing 4 pairs of underwear for a 2 day trip to the hospital, until that trip was extended to 5 days. 
  4.  Hospital cafeteria food is only as good as your own mood. Never complain about the food when sadness and fear surround you... All food tastes like cardboard in those moments.... Except ice cream. That still tastes like ice cream. 
  5. Life may not stop outside of the hospital, but it sure feels like that while you are inside.
  6. The marathon of hours spent waiting in a hospital room for doctors to give you answers can either be the most awkward or the most beautiful moments you can spend with loved ones. Whether you choose avoidance (very easy if you all own iPads, FYI) or conversation - it can feel excruciatingly long or fleeting. It is up to you. But it will never be easier to express love, gratitude, fear, and sadness as a group than those moments.
  7.  No matter how hard it gets and how bleak it seems, there are others with worse situations sitting down the hall from you, so be more generous with your smiles and salutations... It does make a difference. 
  8.  Love more.


  1. been following your blog for over a year now. i am SO sorry for your loss. i can't even imagine it. thanks for being strong and sharing. your list of what cancer taught you is beautiful.

  2. I am so sorry for your loss. Thanks for sharing your experiences. Your strength comes through loud and clear in this post.

  3. i'm so sorry girlfriend. i've been there. and it's so true, ice cream does still taste exactly the same.

  4. Remember this quote too:  To live on in the hearts and minds of those we leave behind, is not to die.  Your father would be (and is) very proud of you....and those of us who read and follow you, are too....

  5. I am so sorry for your loss, Mademoiselle.  Thank you for sharing your intimate thoughts at this difficult time.  This post was beautiful.  Your strength and character show through, and remind me to be a little more grateful.

  6. You are seriously amazing to share this. No joke. My dad died about 7 years ago and I still don't talk about it. My good friend lost his dad to cancer earlier this year and despite having been through it myself, I've had no clue what to say to him. But your honesty gives me chills and I applaud you for being so loving and honest when I am sure you are fighting the urge to fall apart and shut off the world. Brava.

  7. I am so sorry for your loss.  Candie Querbach has said it so much better than I ever could.  I also held my father's hand as he died from cancer, and yet I have no clue what to say to you now. I am sure that he was an amazing, special beyond words man. My heart goes out to you.  



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