Ok, so I thought that I would try to start a blog as a way to vent. It is also a place that I intend to do more than bitching. Yet as of now, the only thing that I have is something that happened today to let my fingers guide what I write.
Something that I read this morning made me think of someone dear to me that I lost. On August 3rd, 1996, I lost my father very suddenly. I still remember the very last conversation I had with him before he passed. I was staying at a friend’s house and had asked him to bring me clothes (as the stay was not originally intended to last more than a day). He was at work, and told me that he would swing by afterwards. I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me back. And, while it’s shameful to say, that was the last words we spoke. I only say that as I see too often that that is what most people regret never saying before their loved ones died.
The day progressed as normal. I played video games with my then-friend, David. I got a call that afternoon from my grandfather that my dad had collapsed. He was in a coma, and I discovered later that he had had a heart attack, a stroke, and an aneurism rolled into one. My Mother, who had been separated from my dad for fifteen years drove down from where she lived and my sister came as well. I was, naturally, devastated. The man had been the only family that treated me with any sense of worth or as a human being altogether. I spent a week wrestling with the decision that faced me as the family who claimed to love him either never showed up, or showed little to no empathy toward me.
So after a week, and a decision to turn off the life support, I said goodbye to my father. I said goodbye to my entire world that day. Shortly after my grandfather decided that I was no longer worth keeping around without my father, and my mother, sister, and extended family emotionally turned their backs on me as well (my mother, after my father passed, raided his wallet and took anything that was worth anything).
It was a struggle, and it has been one every day since his departure. But getting back on topic, I read something about keeping the things that meant something, and it kills me that everything of value that I had ever gotten from my father was taken from me. Anything of value was taken by my grandfather or tossed in the garbage by that man. It was as if after my father’s death, he (nor I) existed to the man. I was a nuisance, like I had always been. And through the constant moving I lost the tiny shreds that I was able to hold onto.
Since leaving my partner in 2006, I lost the last thing I had had; a picture from my high school graduation that was taken exactly one month before he died.
It kills me every day that I have forgotten my father’s face. It kills me that I cannot even remember what his voice sounds like. I was not always a well-behaved child, and what kills me most is that I was never able to get to know him as a human being. The only person who ever treated me with any sense of love and respect and all I did was treat him like garbage. There is nothing that tells me who he was, there is nothing left to even tell me of that.
I just recently started talking to my mother again, and thankfully, she was able to give me pictures of my dad and I when I was just a kid. It makes me happy. The memories aren’t there and all of this is a grim reminder that I have lost a tremendous individual. And I would give anything to get even a shred of what I had lost back.
Be thankful for what you have…