A few weeks ago I started watching NBC's Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist. It is a story of a woman who gains the ability to hear the inner thoughts of people through song. Her life is further complicated by a love triangle and her terminally ill father. In this episode (title above) her and her family find out that her father only has a few weeks left to live.
I knew going into this show that it may trigger emotions for me, specifically due to the father. This episode hit me full force. For all previous episodes it was easy to avoid the topic of her father's illness by focusing on other aspects of the plot, but this episode had Zoey dealing with the diagnosis of her father, so the confrontation with my feelings was unavoidable. I was never able to speak to my dad about his accident, about the cancer the doctors found, or about his last few months of life. I rejected the diagnosis, told myself that the doctors were wrong about the time he had left, and continued like nothing was wrong. Even when he was laying in the hospice bed I was still a firm believer that he would bounce back and be perfectly health. Or at least as healthy as he was before his accident. Throughout this time I was pushing aside all the hard conversations, telling myself that there would always be more time. What I didn't know then was that there is never enough time. I should have been brave like Zoey was in this episode. To sit with my father and tell him how much I care for him, how much he means to me and how much I hate that he has cancer. To tell him how I don't know how to process what I am feeling and that I don't know what I would do without him in this world. Sure, I told him thousands of times that I loved him, loved being with him, and would stay by his side, but never did I speak of his illness. Everything was status quo when it came to our conversations. That is one of my biggest regrets. Our relationship was not one that had a lot of deep personal conversations, so a talk like the one Zoey had with her father would have been brand new territory for us. Diving into such raw emotions with someone is difficult when you have never done so before. I don't think I ever truly cried in front of my dad and I didn't want to bring him down with my tears. I didn't want him to worry about me. In his last few weeks of life he asked my Aunt and I if it was worth it for him to keep fighting. If the treatment and the medications were something he should even continue doing. I answered with a resounding yes, and immediately changed the subject to picking something to watch on the TV. He had made an opening for me to speak about what was happening to him and even then I couldn't do it. My instinct was to run away from the actuality of the situation and rather be the best caregiver I could. Being the best caregiver meant removing myself emotionally from the situation. In Zoey's eyes this was the incorrect thing to do and she was brave enough to have the short "chat" with her father about his inevitable death. I am still learning how to survive and cope with this loss, with my regrets. I am still trying to figure out how to go on and finish my PhD and continue my life. I know I could have said more to him, been there for him emotionally, but at the time I couldn't. I was just barely beginning to accept that he had to retire. He thankfully had my Aunt Meg there for him, to talk to through the trying time of coming to terms with your own mortality. I may have not done what was best or most healthy, but I made damn sure that he knew how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. To those of you dealing with similar situations. Know that there will never be enough time. Have those difficult conversations while you can. You never know when the end will be.
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aMy father was a big Marvel and DC fan. He always watched every new movie and every new show that was within the universes. That is something we shared. I don’t know who was invested first in the franchise, but he became more committed than I, especially after I started my degree program and spent most of my time studying.
After discovering my ‘triggers’ for grief a few weeks back, I started to explore other avenues. Such that I could choose the time and place to induce the grief, ride it for the rest of the evening then go to sleep and start fresh. Marvel movies were the next logical option. I have been angry at the universe for not letting my dad see Avengers EndGame before passing. He was so dedicated, the least he deserved was to see the finale. But alas, he missed both Captain Marvel, EndGame and Spiderman. Since he had a complete set of all the movies, I decided it was only fitting for me to keep it going. I purchased the most recent three movies to complete his collection. I knew watching EndGame would be hard but I wasn’t ready for how hard it was actually going to be. Endgame was a great film but was filled with so many ‘father’ moments. Even the opening scene with Clint having a loving moment with his father. I was crying within minutes. Then to see Scott’s distress and relief upon seeing his daughter, though five years older, alive and well after the snap. What put me over the edge was Tony’s death. Yes, I knew it was coming, I had read the spoilers, the movie has been out since April, but I didn’t know he had a daughter. Tony’s behavior when he was at deaths door was a lot like my own father’s. Not being able to make eye contact, not responsive, just a few mumbles here and there. Inside I was screaming as Peter did but could not bear to burden him with my inner turmoil. So I did as Pepper did. I said the words I was dreading. That we were fine, that I was fine, and that I would be okay, that he could finally let go. Hearing those words from Pepper sent me back to a place in my life I had not been to since it happened. Then at Tony’s funeral, to see his daughter not truly recognizing what had happened, just as I denied the truth of the matter for months. Seeing all of Tony’s friends gathered close to care for each other and to care for her. This was similar to my own experience at the memorial. This movie resonated with me on such a deep level for where I am in my life at the moment. The entire movie was ripe with grief, it surprisingly explored the ways we all deal with grief. From Clint going on a rampage to Thor just checking out. I could see my own experiences reflected in their stories. Many times, I wanted to turn to alcohol as the solution, I felt so much better being a bit tipsy, but my partner wouldn’t let me. I wanted to be angry but kept myself in reserve. Instead I ended up keeping it all inside. How fitting it is that this last movie is spiked with the death of my father. This is an end to many things all at once. I can go on and on talking of the parallels and how the movie made me feel, but this is a blog post, so I will cut it short. I spent the rest of the evening crying until my eyes were swollen shut. It was hard to find sleep. I woke in the morning with stinging eyes and a tired mind. I hope that these cathartic moments will pay off and I am not just inflicting pain on myself for no reason. Lately, I have been becoming more comfortable with my grief and the overwhelming emotions that accompany the state of mind. The last time I really cried with heaving sobs, short breaths, eyes swollen shut, was when my father was diagnosed with cancer. It had been the week after Thanksgiving, he was found passed out on the floor of his shop. He had been there for two days, alone and feverish. The news of this horrific situation along with his diagnosis of brain cancer sent me reeling. Before my mom even uttered the words I was crying, all she had to say was "your dad.." and I was gone. Since that visceral display of emotions more than a year ago I have been unable to cry again. Yes, I would cry, but it was always an overflow of emotions that I was holding back, I had yet to recognize or acknowledge the state my father and I were in. I would get overwhelmed with anxiety for my safety and the safety of those I love and would find myself crying. They were not at face value tears for my father, but they were, I'm sure, related to the inner turmoil I was refusing to accept.
I have been told by many people that in order to process grief I need to make space and time for it. Since I am in graduate school I felt that I did not have time to process these new emotions. I wanted to just move on, pretend that my dad was still waiting for me at home, and get my degree. But as I did this, my degree and work was suffering. I could barely do any wet lab tasks without having a panic attack. I knew that I needed to cry and express the emotions over the loss of my father, but I didn’t know where to start. I had begun to make progress at my father’s memorial when my mom gave her speech, but it was quickly halted by a over the top speech given by my father’s ex wife. This was helpful since I could give my entire tribute without breaking down, but it felt worse. I was on the precipice of something, of releasing the pressure within me, only to have it corked up again. It wasn’t until I got Spotify that I began to find my trigger and outlet. A way that I could feel close to my father and I could regulate the expression of grief. I am connected to my father through music and movies. While setting up my new playlists on the app I stumbled upon “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, one of his favorite bands. With just a few opening chords I was lost in tears, big heaving sobs. For the rest of the night I was lost to the grief but went to sleep and the next day I awoke groggy with sore eyes. But I felt a little bit better. This journey is all about doing what is needed to feel a little bit better, day after day. I now know how to make space for the grief and space to be with my father again. It has been difficult to experience the emotions surrounding my fathers passing let alone write about it here in the blog. My intention was for this blog to be a way for other students to see how you can undergo trauma and still persevere through graduate school. Now it is difficult to show if I am still pushing away the feelings of grief and loss. We all deal with these events in different ways. Mine has been to pretend that nothing is different. That I am just in a different city than my parents and that I should be focusing on my studies. Though productive, this is not necessarily a productive way to work through grief.
Despite avoiding the emotions associated with the loss, I do try to carry my father with me no matter what I am doing. He had a money clip that he used every day that I now clip to my backpack or purse. He had a necklace that he wore for a lot of his life and he wore when he met my mother. When I need extra encouragement and support I wear that necklace. The necklace is my good luck charm for presentations. My father was always the one to help me prepare for major presentations, even since I was little. He would help me get over the nerves and "speak slower, speak clearer, and speak louder". He was the constant that I need in my life. He was grounded and would help me process the emotions a felt coming up to a big presentation. It helps me to wear his necklace as a reminder of his support. Many times I now think I am only in graduate school for him and I will finish my degree for him. Monday, I picked up his wedding ring that I had resized to fit my finger. I wore it that night and had the first cathartic cry since the memorial more than four months ago. I wore it all day Tuesday and seeing it while I lectured and while I did work in the lab was the small little hug that I needed to proceed. However you can find to incorporate your loved one into your life can help. Even if its the little things. I still can't look at pictures of him for too long, but I can carry him with me. Today was the memorial held for my father. We approached the event as a celebration of life. A party that he would have wanted on his birthday (9/16).
Until this point, I was still imagining my dad alive and at home, even though my logical brain knew otherwise. It was easier to imagine that things did not happen the way they did. Attached below is the tribute that I wrote for him. It was cathartic for me and a major milestone in my journey to acceptance. In the tribute I talk about my anxiety and depression. I was nervous to share these deep feelings with the audience of 150+ people, but was encouraged by my mom to go through with it. She acknowledged that many other people are going through their own grief and a good step towards a more open environment is to talk about the hard emotions. My father was diagnosed with cancer a third of the way through my first year of graduate school, he passed away 5/13/2019. This experience has drastically changed my outlook on life and my behavior in lab as I process my grief. From the moment I heard of his diagnosis till even today I have been experiencing a great increase in my anxiety and fear, a symptom I did not expect since it does not correlate with the five stages of grief.
I have started this blog as a way to not only deal with my own experiences but to share the grief process with others going through similar hard ships. The image at the header is of my father and I at the desert when I was a child. |
Madison Arza KennedyThis blog is to document my journey through my PhD while dealing with the early loss of my father Tom Kennedy. Archives
March 2020
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