I tend to hold back a bit when I write. It it intimidating to expose myself so raw, so I always hold back. I pretty much wrote this same blog about ten different times in the past four years and then deleted it just before I was going to hit "publish". This is what will keep me from being a better writer. I know I need to write more freely, it will make me feel better and I can grow with it.
I enjoy so much of life, I am not an unhappy person by any means, but I hold onto a lot of anger. Instead of it getting better with time, it grows as my life changes. I am angry that my dad is gone. I am hurt and I am angry. I know that I am not the only person in the world who ever lost a parent, but it felt personally tragic and cruel. He wasn't old, he wasn't mean, he was my person. I looked like him, I talked like him, I confided in him and sought his advice. He was my dad and he was a dear friend. He knew me so very, very well. Even at the age of 29, with a family of my own, I felt orphaned by his death. He was a single father and his girls were always priority, we were closely knit.
I became a single mother to my first born son, and he stepped right in to be more than just a grandpa, he was his male role model, his best buddy, his teacher, they also, were closely knit.
The last eight months of my pregnancy were the eight months he spent dying of cancer. In which that time I also got married. We tried chemo therapy, but the giant tumor outsmarted everyone. It was too large and rare, and no one knew what to do. The whole eight months were an emotional roller coaster, it was scary, and angry, and sad. Just when hope busted through the door, it would slip out through the back door. It all felt unreal. I could not believe how strong he was through all of it. My sister and I practically quit our jobs so that we could help him, be with him, support him emotionally as best we could.
I always tried not to break down in front of him, figured he had enough on his mind and I didn't want to upset him further. One day we had been spending time together, I couldn't hold it in any longer, I needed to cry to daddy, I needed to him to hold me while I sobbed about all the fear and pain I was going through. As the wonderful dad he was, he did just that. He held me tight and let me sob, he was strong, he let me cry like a little girl and he comforted me while tears raced down my cheeks and snot made its way down my face. My belly full to the max with a beautiful baby girl bounced up and down as my breathing was out of control. He then said "Nice visit we're having" and I started to laugh. He had said this to me about 5 times in the last hour we had been running errands together following each time we bickered about something. Then he made my aunt and sister come carry the groceries in "Jenny is too upset". I could have handled the groceries, but I felt so "taken care of by dad", I let them carry the groceries in.
The man who could do anything in my eyes was becoming sicker and weak. He was not always 100% put together in the mind at times when the sickness took that turn. It was unnatural to see.
The day before he left he told me he was sorry he didn't make it to see the babies, I tried to run away and cry, it was too much to hear that he knew the time was coming. My plan was to go cry in the bathroom (my usual crying hideout). He yelled at me to "Get back here Jenny! Stay with me! I held on this long for you, you stay here." I think that is the most emotional moment of my life. I will never forget it.
I held his hand as he slipped away the very next day. I was sobbing and telling him to make sure he is watching when the babies were born. Myself and my little sister were due in just weeks to have babies, babies he was hoping to meet. The last eight months had led up to this day, this death. It didn't matter, I wasn't ready for it, it hurt too bad. It didn't seem right. He was my DAD. No matter what kind of dumb shit I did, or what I didn't do, he was always my DAD. Every day and every night. He had never every left me, and he was leaving! I didn't know when or where I'd see him again and I couldn't stand it.
It has been over four years now. I was told that after time it gets a little easier. It still hurts, but you start to get used to the fact that they are not here. It's true, but boy is the world I knew different. I don't think I could even describe it. That morning, as I said goodbye and then walked to the parking lot of the hospital to meet my husband who was on his way, the world was different. As I walked through the hospital doors, the air was not the same, everyone around seemed artificial. Were they here visiting a patient? Did they just lose someone. Did this someone mean as much to them as my dad meant to me? Could they tell I had just lost someone? I stood by my car feeling very alone, I felt scared, I felt so angry, like someone had stole something very precious to me. When Louie pulled up, it felt like forever watching him walk up to me. I could not wait to fall into his firm, loving embrace. I knew he would hold me there for as long as I wanted, and he did. He loved my dad dearly and that day he was a strong, supportive husband. He was there for me. To cry, to look across the room at, and I felt like he knew by my look that I needed to hide in the bathroom and cry.
We were all meeting at my dad's house. I drove down the road and called my best friend who lived clear in Grass Valley. I called her work and told her dad was gone. She left work that hour and drove to be with me. She said she knew she couldn't do much, but felt she should be there. It was more than I could ask for in a friend. She was there, for whatever I needed, she was there.
My dad's sister came to the house. She made us all breakfast. That breakfast meant so much to me. Would I have eaten if not for her cooking for us? When would I eat again? I wanted to be there for her, she just lost her big brother. I didn't know how to be there, I still was in shock that I was going to be living this life that my dad was not in for the first time in my life. I think it was good for us all just being together that day. We didn't talk about a whole lot, but we were all there, together.
The next few weeks were a blur. I know we prepared for his funeral service. I rewrote a speech for the service over and over again until I decided to write bullet points and just speak more freely. It went well.
Two weeks after the service I had a blond haired-blue eyed (just like Papa) baby girl. I think the act of grieving and caring for a newborn is a whole other blog entry.
I am angry that he was only 54 years old. I am angry that my person is not here for me to spend time with. I am angry that he didn't get to hold and know my little girl and my baby boy, he would have adored them! That I can't talk to him about my "thirties", that he didn't get to see my first home. I am angry that he hasn't got to meet the friends I have made in the last few years that mean so much to me, or to see the amazing friends that I have held onto for so long. I sometimes break into tears when I watch Logan riding his dirt bike. I think about how excited my dad would be to see him doing something like that, and then think about how nervous my dad would be for him and giggle. Every time we do something fun I think about how he probably would have came with us. I'm angry that I will never here his voice calling me "Girl" again. I am angry that we won't listen to music together and fine tune everything until it sounds like angels, not speakers. He never saw me as a stay at home mom, he never saw me being involved with organizations, he never saw me as a mother of five, he will never see anything I do, and I can't do anything else with HIM. I get sad and then I get so angry!
I think my dad felt good that I had found Louie, he loved him right away and knew I was taken care of, I was safe. Louie would love me and protect me, always. My dad was there to walk me down the isle. Dad on one side and my son on the other, they walked me to Louie and gave their blessing. It was a beautiful day and my dad had a huge smile the whole time.
My wish is that being a little more raw about my emotions will help get them out and I may free my soul a bit.
I'm not in a dark place as I was the first two years he was gone. I didn't like this new world that my dad wasn't in, it was lonely, it was dark, it didn't make any sense at all. I had to build a new world, work on improving it. It's a work in progress and it's coming along nicely.
Holidays are creeping up, which are always difficult, but a few good cries should help :)
Thanks for listening, I feel lighter already.
I love you dad. It's nice to get a glimpse of you in my children, what a special treat.
Thanks for being so wonderful.
