Real loss.
Real grief.
And the thought is ever so real that my children one day will never get to know their grandfather. And that really sucks because he would've been one of the best grandfather's in the world. My stepsister has a son named Chance, and my dad loved Chance like there was no tomorrow. My dad called himself Papa and to this day Chance can still remember him, which is awesome! I think those boys had a very special bond because my dad was lucky enough to have all daughters. And I'm sure he always wondered what it was like to have a son. So when his grandson came around, watch out world!! He was so in love.
Now that he's been gone for little while, I feel like some people cannot get over the past. Everybody has a past. And if you don't, your lying. Or hiding it. Regardless.
Some of my lovely family members are finding it a good idea, I guess, to paint my dad in a bad light. Which is messing with my my memory of him. And I know the truth. I know.
Sadly, my dad was an alcoholic. Alcoholism ate up his life. And the only reason it did that, is because he was really just so unhappy. He also suffered from depression and was bipolar. Now as a child and still as an adult today, I contribute some of those things to the fact that he fought in Vietnam. He had to defend this country in a time where a large part of American citizens did not feel like our country needed defending. There is a big difference between supporting the war, and supporting the troops. Back then if you did not support the war, people simply did not support our troops. Now when our family members should have come home to a welcoming thank you, they instead came home to hatred. People spitting on them, throwing tomatoes at them. I can not, and I do not want to imagine the hell they saw, and the hell they went through. I can't imagine how those Vietnam Vets found strength in themselves to come home and try their best to live as normal of a life as possible. Sadly, lots of those Veterans did not accomplish that. Like my father, for example.
I could have it all wrong. Maybe he was just born to live a hard, trying life. Maybe God felt it was necessary to place every struggle and burden against him, always testing one of his strongest soldiers. But I feel like he should have had a happy ending somewhere in life. Instead of secretly fighting Lymphoma and somehow managing to die of a heart attack one night with my little sister watching him struggle to live. Watching him struggle that night, and many nights before. Not a happy ending.
Never getting to meet the three amazing kids my older sister had. Not getting to make right the relationship they both needed and wanted. Not a happy ending.
I guess the happiest of things to come out of our loss and mourning, that never goes away, was all 3 of his biological daughters finally getting to meet. There's something happy to be found in that. He always called us 'his girls', including my step sister from my step mom's previous marriage. He loved us girls more than anything. And he would die, and he did, getting us all a chance to reconnect and build relationships. Sounds great right?
IT'S SO NOT FAIR.
Life isn't fair. No one said it would be fair. Loss is a part of life. Blah Blah Blah. I still miss the hell out of my Dad and would give anything - ANYTHING for one more phone call. One last Holiday. One last hug.
So many different thoughts in my head through this grieving process. Because it's a long, never ending process.
I could have it all wrong. Maybe he was just born to live a hard, trying life. Maybe God felt it was necessary to place every struggle and burden against him, always testing one of his strongest soldiers. But I feel like he should have had a happy ending somewhere in life. Instead of secretly fighting Lymphoma and somehow managing to die of a heart attack one night with my little sister watching him struggle to live. Watching him struggle that night, and many nights before. Not a happy ending.
Never getting to meet the three amazing kids my older sister had. Not getting to make right the relationship they both needed and wanted. Not a happy ending.
I guess the happiest of things to come out of our loss and mourning, that never goes away, was all 3 of his biological daughters finally getting to meet. There's something happy to be found in that. He always called us 'his girls', including my step sister from my step mom's previous marriage. He loved us girls more than anything. And he would die, and he did, getting us all a chance to reconnect and build relationships. Sounds great right?
IT'S SO NOT FAIR.
Life isn't fair. No one said it would be fair. Loss is a part of life. Blah Blah Blah. I still miss the hell out of my Dad and would give anything - ANYTHING for one more phone call. One last Holiday. One last hug.
So many different thoughts in my head through this grieving process. Because it's a long, never ending process.
What would have been so wrong about getting 'knocked up' at a young age. That way my child/children could know their grandfather. Their Papa. But my Dad loved that I was responsible and trustworthy. Would he have loved me the same? Maybe I wouldn't have done some of the things I have if he was still here. I wouldn't have ran away to the beach to get married, because I wouldn't have the nightmares of walking down the aisle alone, everyone staring. I tried thinking of different important men in my life that could do the honors. It's just not the same. Maybe I would have taken school more seriously if I had his weekly phone calls with him telling me how proud he is of me. I replay his voicemails sometimes. But it's not the same.
I get in these 'it's not fair funks' and it gets harder and harder to fight my way out of them. I want home here. I want to call and tell him that Josh is graduating next weekend. He would be so happy! He loved Josh. He loved me. He truly loved my mom. That feeling and happiness never goes away. And I think of it often.
Please forgive me when I can't talk to you about your dad. Or your kids and their love for their grandpa. Excuse me when I stay still and silent when I can't say anything nice, so I don't say anything at all.