Dear Dad,
I miss you. Why did you fuck up so badly when you were alive? Why did you make me resent you and hate to be around you? Why did we wait so long to make up? Why did you die a month after we made up? Why do I ache for you so badly now that you’re gone?
You’ve been visiting me though, haven’t you? The random memories that pop up in my head at the most random times…the songs that come on randomly that make me think of you….restaurants friends mention that were our favorite spot together…yet not a common place so it’s randomly brought up and I can picture us there eating and laughing.
I struggle with hating you. I struggle with loving you. I struggle with missing you the most. I’m glad you let me know you’re still around.
Thank you and come see me more often. Tell Grandma I said hi.
Love and loss
I got back home late Monday night after a very emotionally draining weekend. It wasn’t even so much the fact that my grandma was gone because she lived a very long, good life. Everything reminded me of my dad, though. That’s what was emotionally draining to me. All the songs that were sung were songs he loved or sang too. All the people that got up to talk said something about my dad in regards to my grandma. Granted, she had 9 kids but my dad was the youngest and it just seemed that everything reminded me of him. Pictures of him up in collages with guitar in hand and a smile on his face.
I really, really miss my dad.
And the longer he’s gone the harder it’s become, which usually is not the case. I blog about him in search of healing because of how our relationship went and how suddenly he died and all the shit I’ve been dealing with emotionally because of it. I hate him for drinking so much. I hate him for being selfish and letting all of us go. Then again, I forgive him for it because while he went down that road and could have turned back, he hated himself FOR even going that way and then drank more to deal with it. I’m not trying to make excuses because in my opinion, he ultimately chose booze over us.
That hurts. Immensely. And yet, does that mean he stopped loving us? No. My dad called me MANY times before and after I moved away, drunk and sober both, to tell me he loved me and missed me. And I? I was a total asshole to him…at least most of the times. I was hurt and mad and confused…and now that he’s gone…the only thing I am is sad. I have a gigantic dad sized hole in my heart and nothing can fill it. I miss him for all the good times…I miss him for all things we could have had if he would have changed….I miss him for all we could have had if he lived through his liver transplant. I don’t know anyone else who has lost a loved one in the middle of a life saving surgery that would have made everything better. My head is filled with so much to say about him…about it all and yet I just can’t seem to find the right words. I cried on the flight home Monday night thinking about what I’d say here on this blog and now I can only remember less than half of it. A fleeting moment I guess….I wish I had a laptop at that moment.
I went to my dad’s grave before I came back home.
I thankfully remembered where he generally was and just dug and dug through tons of snow until I found him. I probably looked like a crazy person hacking through snow and ice but I refused to stop, no matter how cold I got, until I found him. And after I did I stood there and cried. Tears froze to my cheeks and yet I couldn’t stop. I told him I’m so mad at him for doing what he did….but that I forgave him and that I knew he knew that. I told him I missed him. I told him I would give anything to hear his voice again…to hear him sing again…to play his guitar again….to hug him again. It’s a rotten feeling when you lose someone who you had SO much to say to them and never got to. I have no idea if this will ever get easier….so far it’s just gotten worse. And yet, I feel my dad nearby sometimes. I didn’t at all this weekend which I thought I would…but I have other times. I know he hears me and knows how I feel. That does help. I kissed my fingers and then put them on his headstone and walked away promising that I’d come see him next time I’m in town. Going there, digging the snow away, talking to him…it was all cathartic. Something I needed as it was the first time I’ve been there alone. I think I’ll go there alone from now on.
My grandma’s funeral went smoothly and her life was honored the best way we all knew how….by singing and laughing and eating. She would have been proud. I got to see so much family that I haven’t seen in ages. I took pictures with as many people as I could. I spent quality time with my mom too which is important because as much as I like to deny this, I don’t think my mom has much longer left in this world. And as I told The Man when I got back…her passing away will be very bittersweet because her MS has withered her body so much and ruined her so much that she’s just a shell of who she used to be and I hate it. I want her to move here and she won’t so it’s just torture to know she could have a better life but chooses not to…and to know I’m so far away…and to know she’s slowly giving up…but we believe in Heaven and that’s where she wants to be. She’s told me she’s tired and just ready to go Home. And while I’d miss her terribly and I can’t imagine my life without my mom in it…I’ll be happy for her that she’s finally walking again and will never see her wheelchair again. I love my mom and I just want her to be happy again.
The best part of my weekend was coming home to my girls. Hannah, who didn’t want to be in any pictures mind you, was so glad I was home and asked if I was glad to be back in my own bed. Yes, honey, so very glad.
And Livie pretty much acted like I wasn’t even gone and continued on with her normal daily activities like walking the dogs around the house on their leashes.
And playing with Bella.
Emotionally yes, I’m drained but I’m also recharged. Seeing my family recharged me. Getting back home to The Man and my girls also recharged me. I’m so grateful I was able to get back to Cleveland and be there for such a monumental goodbye to my grandma.
I say it all the time but we have to live our lives….we only get one shot at it.
Make the best of it, y’all.
A life, lived.
Funny…well I guess not really funny…but ironic? Maybe? My title for my blog post on Tuesday was Life, lived. And now I’m celebrating a life very much so lived.
My grandmother passed away on Tuesday. She was 91. As I type this my mind is spinning with things I still need to do before I fly out very early in the morning to be with my family to celebrate her life and say good bye. I’m never good with funerals. Emotions hit me weeks later and I think of things I should have done or said after the fact. Right now I’m in a good place because I’m just remembering the good times. When I get there and have to actually face it all? Maybe not so much. Either way, my grandmother was an amazing woman who lived an amazing, long life. She was happy. She was loved. She gave love generously.
For the first 10 years of my life my grandma lived downstairs from us. We lived in a duplex and we could go see her anytime. And we did. A vivid memory? Going to ask her for candy….in Spanish. My grandma never learned how to speak English. She moved here from Puerto Rico when my dad was 7 and as a typical, stubborn country Puertorican woman she refused to learn English. This means I’ve had very little conversations with her…probably only a handful as I got older and learned Spanish more. I’m still not fluent at all so we’d say things as easily as we could for each other and then laugh at my pathetic attempts to speak as gracefully as she did.
She’s my only grandparent who has met my girls. She’s the strongest woman I know. She’s buried 2 children, one being my dad, which is something I can’t even fathom. She had 9 children. 25 grandchildren. 42 great grand children and 5 great great grandchildren. What a legacy.
Tomorrow I will fly to be with my family and celebrate her life and mourn her loss. But I know, as I told my sister just yesterday, that she and my father both will be so happy to be reunited and they will both watch over us.
Rest in peace, Grandma.
Happy 58th birthday, Dad.
Today would have been my dad’s 58th birthday. Almost 60. Wow. He’s been gone for 2.5 years. It seems like way longer sometimes. When I think about blogging that morning I got the news…that seems like ages ago. I spent an hour this morning trying to find this picture of Hannah and my dad from when she was like 14 months or so. I remembered seeing it this past weekend and I could have sworn I saw it online. After an hour of searching and digging I remembered that I hadn’t seen it online. I saw it in an old photo album at home that I hadn’t seen in years. Then I got totally upset that I didn’t have the picture to post here since that’s why I started looking for it to begin with. Upset that I wanted this picture online because I hadn’t seen it in years. Upset that there will never be pictures of Livie with him. Upset that he made SO many mistakes and created so much distress and anguish in our family. Upset that he was a drunk. Upset that I only have like 3 pictures of us together in my adult life because of the huge rift he created. Upset that I was so young when my bitterness toward him began. Upset that it took him dying for me to realize how much I loved him. Upset that it took him dying to remember many good times we had. Upset that I’m 28 years old and am just now realizing how he truly had an addiction and it wasn’t something that was easy for him to stop….or else he would have. Upset that I’m just now realizing that he wanted to stop…and couldn’t. That he would have traded it all to have his wife, his true love, back…and have his kids back. So he just drank more because that kind of guilt is unbearable. Upset because I’m realizing this way too late. Upset because EVERYONE else that knew him saw how wonderful he was outside of the booze…saw how funny and entertaining he was. I saw these things too. But the drinking? It took it away from me. From my memories. From my concern.
Upset because I miss him.
I used to think that when people said that alcoholism or drug addiction or depression were genetic disorders that were passed on to children…generation after generation….I thought that was ridiculous. Those were things people chose. Those were selfish actions and they chose them. But now…now that I’m finally a grown up…I’m seeing that’s not the case. Who would choose to continue a problem that destroys their whole lives? My dad isn’t alive for me to tell him this. So I’m telling all of you instead.
I forgave my dad years ago. Well, at least I thought I did. But now? Now I truly have.
Happy birthday Dad. We love you.
For Layla Grace
I blog. It’s what I do when I’m happy, or sad, or anxious. Y’all know this. I blog all my emotions. Right now, my heart is breaking. I told y’all to pray for Layla Grace a few weeks ago. Today, she went to be with Jesus. I know she is no longer hurting and has no more pain.
But I know her family is in dire pain. They are hurting. They will miss their baby.
As I sit here at my desk stuck at work, my heart breaks. I want nothing more than to go home and be with my babies. To kiss them and cuddle them and tell them I love them. It doesn’t seem fair that we can’t instantly just leave our jobs when something like this happens. Why aren’t there ” I need to go home and see my kids” hours like there are sick or vacation hours? There needs to be.
Please pray for the Marsh family. They will need it. I can’t imagine having to bury my child.
Layla Grace, may you enjoy playing with the angels. I never met you. I never held you. And yet, in my mind, I did both those things. I don’t know how it’s possible to love someone you’ve never met or talked to…and yet I do. Rest in peace sweet baby girl.
(taken from Layla’s Flickr Page)
2 years old
Today Maddie would have been 2 years old. My heart goes out to Heather and Mike everyday….but especially today. As a gift to her on her birthday, I’m sponsoring a NICU support pack. Even if we all just donate a little bit today—what a tremendous impact that will have.
Happy birthday Maddie. Won’t you be her friend?
Sad
When I was trying to get pregnant, I joined a website for women that were trying to conceive. I actually mentioned it on here last year. I made a friend on that website. 2 months of friendship later, her husband was diagnosed with cancer. He died last night. The pain that she and her son are going through right now….I just can’t even imagine. I’ve spent some time crying for them…and my heart is just broken for them. You can read her story here.
Like I said yesterday and a few times before- you just don’t know how fragile life is. So, so sad.
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