So here's the thing, I know it's Monday, and Monday may mean something different for each person. I've never been someone who loved them in my life, but I will explain why Monday is always going to be my least favorite day. (I'm sorry this is kinda a downer, depends on how you look at it)
Monday is always the day my life was irrevocably shattered, the day my life changed and there was absolutely no going back.
Now my dad was diagnosed with basically the worst kind of brain cancer you can have in June of 2010, from that point on I felt like I was living in a haunted house, you literally never knew what was coming around a corner to scare you more. I never had the sense that he was going to die, but I knew it was over (crazy?), a piece of me knew. The next 11 months was a roller coaster, I know that's so cliche but there really isn't any other way to put it. I always think about it as Splash Mountain at Disney, you get on knowing there is going to be that huge fall at the end, but the small falls in the beginning distract you along the way.
There was the before the initial surgery when I had to say goodbye because he may not make it.
There was after surgery when I had to sit by his bed holding his hand staring at a heart monitor because he might not make it.
There was when they told us they would start chemo, but he might not make it.
There was when he wasn't responding to chemo that he might not make it.
There was going through two rounds of radiation and then getting the MRI results saying the cancer was spreading that he might not make it.
There was the blood clot scare that I had to say goodbye because he might not make it.
There was the dinner we told him we had to move him into a hospice because he might not make it.
There was every day I walked out of that hospice for two months saying goodbye because he might not make it.
Finally, there was that phone call, that secretary rushing into my classroom, and me finding my sister crying in a stairwell waiting for our coach/family friend to drive us to the hospice because he wasn't going to make it.
That Monday in May 2011, I walked into that room, saw my dad wasn't going to make it and holding his hand and crying for hours. There was that moment my mom asked my sister and I to go down the hall because she wanted to be with my dad, and I kissed him and said goodbye knowing he wasn't going to make it. That moment I walked back in the room to kiss him goodbye because he didn't make it.
That is what Monday is for me, Monday is always going to be that last drop on Splash Mountain, that huge way down.
The part that I hold onto is that part where you get off the ride, let yourself air dry and you keep going.
p.s. Sorry so sad, I was inspired by a close close friend who was speaking about her "Monday"