Why does finality have to be so final?

I will apologize in advance for this one....  my mind is all.over.the.place lately.  My poor husband had to hear all about it last night...where I'm pretty sure it wasn't the kind of pillow talk he was hoping for.  But he's a great husband and listened anyway.

I'm emotional.  Like ridiculous emotional.  We both say that if we didn't know that I wasn't pregnant, we would think I am pregnant.  Cause I am that emotional.  And because my face is all broke out like a 12 year old girl.  Get on with it, Joy.

So first of all, we're discussing the weaning of the paci.  We've been discussing it for months but just feel that we aren't ready.  Well, maybe we're ready now.  Or we're very close.  Yesterday, I was reading a blog that I follow and read that she is going through the same thing with her daughter.  Well, she posted this link.  I'm telling you, it was like brain candy.  And while it didn't give me any new ideas for the weaning...it did reassure me that our plan should be successful and won't scare her (too bad) for life and have her sucking her thumb in secrecy in her college dorm room.  Cause yes, I do worry about scarring her like that.

But I sat reading this short online article about weaning and was just in tears!  And I cried about it all day.  I kept asking myself "what are you doing to her?!"  and things like "why would you take away her one true love?!"  and then like "she will have nothing to comfort her!"  Yes, I know.  I'm pathetic.  It's me that isn't ready.  Not her.  But the fact that she slides her paci to the side in order to speak, tells me that SHE is ready.  Even if she doesn't realize it yet.  I mean, she normally only has the paci during naps and bedtime.  And when she's throwing the biggest tantrum in the world and I just need silence.  So, my husband declared last night that HE is ready for the weaning.  And I think that I am as well.  Or, I admit that I need to be ready.  Because even though it is going to SUCK, pun intended, we have to do it.  Or risk a hefty orthodontist bill in 13 years.  So, we're doing it.  But I'm not exactly sure when.  Maybe on Sunday we'll start.  Cause we have a friend in town this weekend and we don't want to subject her to the mess that we anticipate.  But it's coming--errrrr, ending-- soon.

So then, my other emotional mess is something that comes in waves.  Dealing with the loss of my dad.  He's been gone since 2005.  But for some reason, I still struggle with the finality of the whole thing.  I still catch myself thinking that he's not really gone, like forever.  And then there are days where I make myself say that it's really forever.  And those days suck.  (what's with all of the suck talking today!?)  Yesterday was one of those days.  And so I cried the whole hour and a half to school.  Luckily, Kage wasn't with me.  Cause she'd give me that look of "should I be crying too, mom?!" 

I struggle with my own faith because of his lack of faith.  I know that he didn't accept Jesus in his life. I know that he didn't live in a Godly way.  Does that mean that he's not in heaven?  Does that mean that he is living in hell?  Because they say that you will meet your loved ones again in heaven some day....but what if he isn't in heaven?  I can't even handle the idea that he wasn't welcomed through those pearly gates.  He was one of the best men that I ever knew.  He had a big heart.  He was a good guy.  But he had his vices too....  I know that there is no way to know where he is now...but I can only think of him as in Heaven.  But from what I have learned in my faith....tells me that he's not.  Does that make sense?  And how dare I say that I don't want to go to heaven if he's not there?  Whoa.  That sounds terrible.  I just want to see him again.  Or to know that I will see him again.  And then the Catholicism in me (even though I'm not practicing Catholicism anymore) tells me that maybe he's in Purgatory.  Which is even worse yet.  Ugh.  And then the whole Lovely Bones book makes me throw in the whole worry of "what if me not being able to let him go, keeps him in limbo?!"  Is that even possible?  Do you think that really happens? 

I know that he was ready to go.  He told me.  He really suffered at the end--and he was only 50.  Talk about unfair.  But I'm selfish and I wasn't ready for him to go.  And I think that if he had a more fair share of life, he wouldn't have been ready to go either.  And that's where it hurts.  He got the short end of the stick and even though he deserved a much easier ride, he fought the hard fight.  And his body couldn't take it anymore.  He always joked that his "golden years aren't so golden."  God, I miss him.