Blindsided

I feel so overwhelmed right now. I'm in shock still--there's no other explanation. Day 14. I haven't even taken a good minute to think that he's not going to ever walk out of that bedroom with his hoodie pulled over his head---won't see him slumped over on the couch sleeping while sitting up---Haven't taken a good minute to cry, to miss, to anything. I'm just plugging on trying to take care of business. This could be wrong.. it could be exactly what I need. I don't really know. I just wish that Dad's death didn't have to happen that way. Someone asked me the other day if I had a close relationship with my father. I told them that I didn't really know. How can I not know. It's not like we were on the phone everyday... it's like the relationship was understood. We didn't talk a lot. It seems like the middle sister was the closest... I really loved my Dad. I didn't know how to tell him a lot of things, and I think he felt the same way about me. But, he was a fantastic man. It sucks that he so terribly under estimated himself... BUT I see myself doing the same things. It's amazing how much we end up like our parents whether we want to or not. I really just need to cling to the belief that he's in a better place--living with the Father without pain and suffering, seeing Mom again, praising and dancing and biking in the sky. I think that's the only way I'll get through this.

All of this is really pressing down on me. I am really confused about my own life. I am not getting any kind of peace from my life. I really like working at the library. I really hope going to library school is the right thing. I really want to do the right thing by Scianna.. but I don't know what that is. I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I floating by the seat of my pants. I just want some peace. I'm sick of not being able to keep up with things. I'm so tired. I feel so useless almost. I know that I'm not.. but it feels like it sometimes. I'm not completely comfortable with my new role at work. I don't know that I like supervising all of these students. I enjoy the ones that I have in interlibrary loan, but I have a more difficult time relating to the ones in the computer lab. I try really hard to communicate, but I feel like I come off as an annoying boss.

I'm not happy at home either. The rent is too expensive... The place is too small. I'm hesitant to dive into a mortgage situation, because I'm not sure if the current living situation is 'right' so to speak. It's just convenient and what I think I have to do--one would hope there was more to it than that, but I have to wonder a lot. I feel annoyed the majority of the time--I don't want life to be this way.

I know what I have to do... I need to trust completely that God will take care of me... but it's really hard for me to do. It's hard for me to let go of myself and let God.

The other thing I'm very unsure about is the music studio. There are occasions that I really enjoy working there, but then again, the majority of the time I dread going there. I don't feel like I"m reaching them anymore. Except maybe Nora and Cindy... But even then...I just don't enjoy it like I used to. I need guidance in this area too. I know that I have to give 30 days notice in order to quit. I don't want the owner to be mad at me like so many other teachers that just announce one day that they aren't coming back.

I will continue to ponder life's difficult problems and then plop them here later.

David Shank

Dad and Cousin Cameron December 2007

It's so amazing to me how fickle life is. In a blink of an eye, it can all be over. I'm trying not to think of the obvious: Now my Baby girl doesn't have her maternal grandmother OR grandfather.

Don't get me wrong... I'm thankful for the time we've spent together over the years. My Dad is a fighter, and a survivor of heart. Even though in the end the cancer got him, I can only hope he's resting int he Glory of God's embrace. I'm hoping that whatever happens the next few days, we will first and foremost be remembering and celebrating his existance!
It was a shock yesterday to receive a call from Leah telling me my father was coughing up blood and in the hospital. I was working, so I couldn't leave immediately. I heard later that they had gotten it to stop for a long time. He was even seeming better, but was pretty frightened about how much blood he had coughed up. This is where the recounting gets rather fuzzy: He started coughing up blood again. They were going to try and insert a respirator to help him breathe better, but couldn't get it to go down his trachea. Who knows what happened then... He may have had an anuerism. The tumor might have burst and spread like hellfire throughout every aspect of his body. We don't really know.. All we know is that he was here laughing and talking one moment and gone the next. I am so thankful that he didn't suffer for an extended period of time laying down int he hospital bed.

I don't know anyone who was like my Dad. He was funny, creative, and a lunatic (in a good way) all at the same time. He had a heart of gold--even if life didn't deal him a perfect deck.

The thing that struck me most when I heard the news was how my dad had told us girls that my mother had died. He wasn't like me... he put a lot of heart and thought into the telling. It was July of 1993. My mother was diagnosed with cancer in May. Unlike my Dad, she was having a hard time keeping up with the treatments. This does not mean however that she gave up. She gave it all she got! However when she passed away, my Dad came home with a bunch of balloons. He came and collected my sisters and I and we went out to the backyard. He had the balloons with him, and scissors too. Instead of just telling us our mother had passed on, he showed us the balloons. He said... your mom, just like these balloons ... is free now--he cut the strings holding the balloons and they flew into the sky. I remember vividly that it was a full moon that night. I will always remember Dad for doing that.

Over the past 24 to 36 hours, I've thought a lot about my Dad. I've thought about the little rhyming treasure hunts he used to make us as girls. I've thought about his love for bike riding and his chiding me for coasting. I've thought of his teasing me for getting a 99--"Can't you do any better than that". I remember when I got my learner's permit and he made me drive the fully-extended dodge ram home from the DMV. He was so nervous I was going to hit someone's

mailbox! I remember him playing trumpet at church and jamming to Frank Zappa down in the basement. I remember at one party he carried bottles of champaign around in his jacket... ready to fill an empty glass. I always liked how he'd get stuck on some mechanical thing he was thinking about and then explain it out loud (and draw diagrams) to anyone who was listening or standing there. There were also time where he woudl appear in the middle of this outrageous story only to find out he was recapping a dream.

He was always so full of surprises.
It breaks my heart to think that Scianna will probably not remember him a year from

now. But.. I hope she does.

There are so many things that run through my mind. Hopefully he will be fondly remembered. I pray for peace for all of my family members. This will be a difficult time. A difficult transition... perhaps even more so than when my mother passed away.

Lastly I think of Psalms 30... especially the last two verses.

Psalm 30
1.I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up,

and did not let my foes rejoice over me.

2.O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,

and you have healed me.

3 O LORD, you brought up my soul from Sheol,
restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
4 Sing praises to the LORD, O you his faithful ones,

and give thanks to his holy name.

5 For his anger is but for a moment;

his favor is for a lifetime.

Weeping may linger for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
"I shall never be moved."
7 By your favor, O LORD,
you had established me as a strong mountain;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.
8 To you, O LORD, I cried,
and to the LORD I made supplication:
9 "What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me!
O LORD, be my helper!"
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy,
12 so that my soulb may praise you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

Perhaps it's not the most appropriate passage, but it was the one that struck me last night.
Praise be to God for not letting my Dad suffere anymore! May He grant peace to those who will be mourning!








Scianna and Grandpa Nov. 2007