I recently spent a few minutes trying to write an open and honest, fully divulging, therapeutic and non redundant post about all the events that had happened in my life since the last time I had written. The reason I always wanted to keep up on this project of mine was because I know me, and once too much time passes in between posts there is just so much to try and fill my readers in on that it becomes overwhelming....which then causes me to write a half-assed blog, a rushed post that barely gets into things on any real level, but instead just skims the surface of whatever I'm writing about, and have been dealing with on a personal level. So the only way for me to really sit down and write the way that works best for me is to pretend that I've been writing all along, that you already know everything of importance that's occurred and just concentrate on what it is I feel the need to share, instead of getting overwhelmed and not writing at all. So that's what I'm going to do this morning - if some of it's repeated information from my latest entry I apologize, so here's to my best effort of describing what I've been going through since I lost my father.
For anyone who knows me now or did earlier in my life, for anyone who's read my blog or has known my family at any point during my lifetime, and for anyone who knows even just a little bit about me through the grapevine already knows that I've spent my entire life in fear of loosing my dad. I dwelled and dwelled on it so much as a child that I'm sure it was very unhealthy for my mental development and well being. It's always been the 'big fear' the phobia, the darkness that's hung over my head. My mom dealt with her husbands illness in the opposite way, pure denial - he had gone through so many bad phases and bounced back, that I honestly believe that she, at some point, was able to convince herself that she'd never loose him. I always thought my way of approaching the subject was healthier, that it meant I'd be more prepared when it finally did happen - that I was at least dealing with it...but now I truly believe that my mom actually was the one who had it right all these years. Almost every special occasion that I can remember was in part dampered down if not ruined because instead of focusing on how happy I was that Dad was still here, I was concentrating on the fact that that Christmas, or this birthday, or something like that would be his last - then I'd imagine how that would feel, and poof their went my special occasion. I don't say this lightly, but his illness defined me, I allowed it to - the fear I carried with me my entire life weighed on me in such unhealthy ways, it was more of an obsession then it was anything else. I made really big choices in my life, and later down the road those choices affected not only me but a husband and child. Moving away from home, more then maybe an hours drive was something I never considered because I had to be close incase something happened - there were jobs I turned down, opportunities I missed out on and like I said before it was all consuming and totally defined who I was and how I lived my life. I'm not talking about issues I had with drugs being caused by this, or using this as an excuse to why I turned out certain ways that I did.... and my Dad wanted me to succeed more then anything, he wanted to see me happy, healthy, in love and being loved more then he wished for anything else. He always knew what an impact his sickness had on me, and he hated it, blamed himself for me being sad or scared for such a big part of my life. I did though want to clarify that I'm talking about my entire life, choices I made when I was 15 or 16 (before I had even ever gotten drunk or smoked weed) I'm talking about the big picture, not just the section of my life that I've written about so much in this blog, the reasons for there even being a blog to speak of.
The point I'm trying to get at is that because I built loosing my dad up so much in my head, that instead of it preparing me for the day it happened it had almost the opposite effect....the only good thing I can say about how I managed that fear and my life with him, is that I didn't really take it for granted - there were times I'm sure - but the majority of the time our relationship was one in a million. And that is because I always had his illness in the back of my head so we had certain rules in my house growing up....we would never go to bed mad, even if it meant staying up and fighting far into the night we would, my head wasn't allowed to touch my pillow until whatever issue that was there had been resolved, at least enough to say "I love you" and we'll talk more about this in the morning. Every time I left the house I'd give my parents a kiss on the cheek and tell them I loved then, as they did me. At the end of every phone call there was an "I love You," my dad and I would write little notes to each other, every card we ever gave one another had been thought of and not bought quickly but instead we took the time to find the ones that were just perfect for us. I'm comforted by so many pictures, letters, cards, video's....and all those were saved knowing that one day they would be all I had. For petes sake I have his hospital bracelet from when he had that big operation in Pittsburg, I've got little cards from flowers he would get me if we had had a fight the night before and if he felt like he was wrong, I'd get flowers delivered to me with a note that just said "I'm sorry" or "I love you" I saved all those things through all those years. So although my fear of his death took away a lot of my innocence as a kid, and my piece of mind growing up - the way I handled it had it's good points too... the relationship that my father and I had was what it was due to that fear, due to his illness. I don’t know any other woman who shared the kind of Father/Daughter relationship that I had - he was home more then most other Dads because of his illness, so he played Mr. Mom often - I could talk to him about anything, and I mean anything! So although I was always scared of the big black monster that for me was life without him, it did have it's good points. And 10 years ago I thought that it would prevent me in full of having to deal with any type of guilt after he was gone, because I knew he was fully aware of how much I cared for him, how much he meant to me....I was basically a near perfect daughter for the majority of my life. Unfortunately when that changed, when I started rebelling, when I started making awful choices in my life, and when those choices hurt my father more then I could possibly describe I lost that guilt free attitude with him. And it's that guilt that is now giving me the hardest grieving time that I've ever had in the past. When my grandfather passed away there was no guilt - I had expressed to him how much I loved him, I had never disappointed him in the ways I later would have if he hadn't died when he did. I was lying next to him for Gods sake when he took his last breath....so while it devastated me more then I could have imagined...when I was coping with his death I didn't have that awful, all consuming guilt hanging over my head. When Ellis died there was a little guilt there, guilt for not being who he wanted me to be in his life, guilt for being so scared of his death that until those last months with him occurred I had tried pushing him away, thinking it'd hurt less if I were to lose him. But those last months did happen, and I was there for him in every way I could, I told him 10 times a day how much I loved him, how sorry I was that these were the cards he was dealt, how sorry I was for not being a better friend at times during his illness. But I was given a chance to make it right, and I took that chance and ran with it...and looking back I had done that a few times even prior to his last months - like when I organized and worked my ass off on that bone marrow drive I've mentioned at least once in this blog. So yeah there was 'some' guilt there after he died, some little things that kept popping up in my head when I was grieving for him....but for the most part I had peace - knowing that in the end I was a great friend to him, that he knew how much I loved him and how much I was going to miss him. That peace helped me more then anything else could have, with both my Papa and Ellis...but that isn't the case this time around.
My father and I loved one another unconditionally. We'd fight like cats and dogs sometimes, but usually only because we were so much alike, both stubborn and always ready for an argument. But the relationship him and I shared for the first 20 years of my life ended up changing in that last 8 years of his life. He lost respect for me in little pieces here and there for random things I had done or choices I had made. But on June 6th, 2009 I made a choice that would change our relationship in ways that were irreversible. When I was arrested, with his beautiful grandson in the car, when all light was shed on the life I had been living right under his nose without him knowing about it, and when he realized that he could no longer recognize me that was not a turning point for us, it was THE turning point for us. He never wanted perfection from me, his dreams for me weren't aimed at riches, fame, a Pulitzer prize, lol - he just wanted me to be an honest, respectable, loving person - a good mom, a good wife - he wanted for me to be able to be proud of myself - he wanted better for me then he had, etc....he told me one time that I could murder someone, and although he would turn me in (if he thought others were in danger from me) that he would love me no less then he had before, that he would always be in my corner, and that nothing at all could ever change that. He didn't bank on me hurting the one person who came closest to his heart as I did, Brian. So when that happened he told Jim point blank, as long as Brian gets home safe to them, he didn't care if I rotted in that jail cell. At that point he meant every word. The anger faded throughout the next few years - he saw how hard I was trying to right my wrongs - he acknowledged that I was a good mom despite my past actions - he wanted nothing more then to put it all behind us. I have no doubt that he was able to forgive me for my actions during those darkest years, but he didn't have the ability to forget them....and he lived his last years in constant fear that I would end up right back to that point again - that I'd screw up in another horrific way and I'd loose Brian...that fear which he carried made it impossible for us to ever again have that relationship we once had.
So there's where the guilt comes into play. It's a worthless emotion, I know - because I can't change the reasons I have that guilt - and now that he's gone I can't make up for it, or talk to him about it, or whatever I could try to make it right between us again. And after spending my entire life just wanting 1 more year...or him to live long enough to see this, or that...after being so grateful that he made it as long as he did....now part of me wishes I had lost him at 18 - because then I'd be at peace with who I was to him, how strong our relationship was. But of course I'm thrilled that he had 6 full years with Brian - and I wouldn't take that away from either of them just so I could selfishly deal with his death easier. It's just a double edged sword - because by definition I was one hell of a daughter to him until I wasn't - and it seemed to really happen that quickly and without warning.
Then of course both my mom and I have a certain level of guilt that he lived his last months in a nursing home and not here with us. We know in our heads that it was the best option for our whole family, especially my Dad ... but his depression and fear that he felt being over there is a hard pill for us to swallow. He adjusted in the last couple months, and agreed that we had made the right choice - but those first few months spent in the Nursing Home were harder on him then we ever could have seen coming. He said one day to me that he just couldn't believe that this was it, that after fighting for as long as he had, for doing everything he could to stick around for our family, that this was how it was ending....him alone in a bed in a nursing home, where people either go to get rehabilitation, or where they go to die - and he knew which he was there for. Me getting hurt in the beginning of his last summer doesn't help my level of guilt either. I know I didn't get hurt on purpose, and that I didn't have a choice in the matter - but it kept me away from him for 4 entire weeks while I was in the hospital and when I first made it home. It kept me from being able to visit him on a regular basis, to once a week if I was lucky. So missing out on all that time that I could have had with him, hadn't I been hurt, is something else that I'm having a hard time dealing with.
Don't get me wrong though, his last month or so was different. He had come to peace about staying at the nursing home for good...he was having a lot more good days then he had been having a few months prior. Brian, my mom and I were visiting often - Mom was even living there for rehab on her knee for a few weeks, which brought them closer together then they had been in a long time. I'm jealous of that, but so happy for my mom because any guilt she had was being cut down to a more bearable size - they had told each other that they had been lucky for that time because they fell in love with each other all over again....what a gift! The last conversation they had was the afternoon before he died....they last words they spoke to each other were (mom - "I love you Frankie" Dad - "I love you more sweetheart") It can't get much better then that. I didn't see him that day. I had gone to a Dr's appointment in Glens Falls with my grandmother, Brian and mom, and was pissed off when we got home because I wasn't healing as quickly as I was wanting, I was still in so much pain, and I had a attitude that afternoon...one that caused me to not want to deal with anyone, so when we got back to North Creek my mom dropped me and Brian off at the house, and she went to see my dad....I hadn't even called him that night - well I had tried but he didn't answer. So I can't tell you what our last words were to each other, I can't say that I had an amazing conversation with him that day - and I'm jealous of my mom for getting them both.
When the phone rang at 10:00 - 10:30 PM that night I knew right away it had something to do with Dad. Him being dead never entered my mind, but I thought maybe he was having a bad night, confused, scared - and they were calling to see if someone could come sit with him...or a nurse was letting us know that he was going to the hospital for whatever reason. But when I heard her voice, and when she asked specifically to speak with my mom it all changed. The volume on the phone was loud enough that I even heard her ask my mom if she was sitting down - I knew. My mom freaked out, she was in such shock because there hadn't been a warning, she screamed and cried - I just sat calmly and called my Aunt and Grandmother to ask one of them to come over and pick her up, she had to go to the nursing home to sign papers, and wait for the funeral home to pick him up. Brian was here that night so I wasn't going anywhere, and even if he hadn't been - I still would have stayed home.... I was numb, it wasn't real to me at all. So my Aunt and Zat (grandmother) rushed right over to the house to pick up my mom....I asked my mom to tell them not to come in because I didn't want to see anyone - because I didn't want the numbness to be gone yet. But my Aunt Sass did come in, and she sat next to me and hugged me, cried and told me how sorry she was....it was starting to sink in. Then after they left - I calmly started the phone calls, Jim, my sister Laura, my best friend Katy, and my best guy friend at the time Steve. Steve was amazing, before I had a chance to finish the sentence he had turned his truck around and was heading here to be with me. I know I ended up freaking him out a little bit though by the lack of emotion I was showing - I wasn't a puddle, I was like a robot one minute, then a little emotion would spill out until I caught myself and went back to being a robot.
I miss my father more then I could possibly explain. I'd give almost anything for 1 more movie night with him...1 more moment where I acted like a lap dog and would curl myself on top of his lap for a big hug....1 more argument even....1 more "I love you", just 1 more of anything. In the last 3 months since he died I've gone back and fourth between Robot and emotional basket case. There will be days upon days that I don't even tear up....then there will be a day, without any reason or warning where I can barely hold myself together. It's extra hard that he was such a Ghost to the majority of people well before his death. Even my mother's family had barely laid eyes on him for the last few years of his life. He wasn't able to go to the store anymore - my mom wasn't working at the Laundromat anymore so he didn't have there to go to socialize and get out of the house - he hadn't been well enough to go to family functions, etc. So other then for my Mom, myself, Brian, Jim, Zat and a few random people that would be at my house sporadically to visit - he was a Ghost. It's hard enough when it's all done, like the funeral, the people stopping over, the cards stop coming, people stop randomly calling to check it - that's when it starts to really hit you...but in my dads situation it wasn't just that typical stuff that was hard, knowing that his death would only truly affect a small handful of people was hard to accept. He was too good of a man for that, he was my everything, so it's hard to see that other people had felt like he was gone years before he actually died.
Sometime I just want to be alone, to not have anyone around me. But there are other times where I want to let go of holding it all inside, be around someone I'm comfortable enough with to cry, scream, whatever it is I feel I need to do at that time. Nights are the hardest of course - so that's usually when I frantically at times will reach out to the few good friends I have....and if it's at all possible beg them if I must to come over and hang out, just to watch a movie - just so I'm not sitting alone, scared, sad, missing my father. Quiet has become an enemy of mine, thinking has become what sets me off, and the guilt is what I dwell on. But when I get lucky, and happen to be having one of those awful nights, and can find a good friend to sit with me, just be here, it makes all the difference in the world. I keep trying to convince myself that this is normal, that I'm not making more out of this then I should be - loosing a parent is one of the hardest things anyone can go through - loosing my dad was even a little bit harder then most. It can be all consuming at times, all I can think about, all I can focus on - but those times aren't frequent, and I feel like I'm holding it together better then I thought I would. Last year I would have expected that when this would happen I'd run right back to the Heroin, right back to not giving two shits about anything but how and when I was going to get high.....but I haven't - and that is a big achievement in my mind, 1 thing I can be proud of myself for. I thought if anyone's death would just destroy me it would be this one (of course I'm not talking about if something happened to Brian, because that'd be an entirely different kind of loss, something too awful to even allow myself to think of) but it hasn't destroyed me...I'm stronger then I give myself credit for sometimes. And again, it's only been 3 months - in time I'm sure I'll be much better then I am today or have been. Thank God for those few people I consider friends though - there are 3 imparticular that have been almost like a glue for me, every time I feel like I'm popping open at the seams, they're able to glue me back together - even if they aren't even aware that that's what is occurring. Thank God for Brian, because the grief and depression associated with this loss would have been a lot more debilitating if I didn't have to fake it for him....especially right now, getting ready for our first Christmas without him - if it weren't for Brian I would love nothing more then to skip Christmas this year - but Brian is here, and Brian deserves to have the best holiday season yet - who knows if this is the last year or not I'll have that he believes in all the magic of Christmas, Santa, etc - I'm not going to miss out on that because I'm missing my father. And although my mom and I still fight a lot - and argue over just about anything we can - we've been there for each other. She was strongest when I was at my weakest - and visa versa. We're trying to hold each other up.
So there is my first real blog post in a really long time. It's length is ridiculous, and the time it took me to write all this is quite impressive, how it just all spilled out of me and into my fingers and onto this page. I hope I succeeded in what I was trying to do, and how I wanted to write this - leave comments and let me know if I still remember how to 'blog' LOL - I’m really going to make an effort to pick it back up, it's silly not to when it can bring me so much comfort. Every time I write a long, descriptive letter, blog, journal entry - I feel like a little weight comes off my shoulders, so the more I write the more weight is taken away.....who would pass that opportunity up?? But yeah, comment if you have the time, just so I know if anyone is still out there in cyber world reading this...I wish you all a very HAPPY, HEALTHY, AND MEMORABLE Holiday season. Much love XOXOXO *Krista*
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