Thank you.
I just wanted to thank you all for your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the last few days. It's going to be a long road ahead, dealing with my fathers passing, so don't be surprised to read a post of me venting away or remembering the time we did have together. I have already bent Bud's of "Us" ear abit. Sorry about that Bud, I just got caught up in the moment.
I will share this, as I did with Bud. I'm angry. I'm angry that my dad died. I'm angry that he never came clean about his "wife/GF" or his "other family". I'm angry that he did not prepare for his last days. I'm angry that these other people went about making all the final arrangements, and never once asked my brother, my sister or I for input. I'm angry that I will never be able to vent one last time to my dad for walking out on us, November of 1983. I'm just angry. And I know that is normal and one of the steps in dealing with death.
I hate to lose and death is nothing more than a big loss. It's like game 7 of the World Series. There is no tomorrow, and this one hurts. The way I see it, I've lost my dad three times. The first time when he left us, the second time was after his heart attack in 1998, and now. Please understand, I'm not trying to make my dad out to be a man who never saw his children or would not support them financially or emotionally. He was there when we asked him to be. He was there when we all graduated college, and when my sister got married and our birthdays and shit like that. He was with us on Christmas and spend the night at our mom's house. Mom would get a little pissed at first, but understood that dad was trying to make-up for what he fucked up on and was making an honest effort to spend time with us. That got me to wonder, what did he tell is "wife/GF" and his "other family" out the holidays? The same would go for New Years. He would spend the night at my mom's and go home the next day. Strange, huh.......
When he had his heart attack in May of 1998, my mother offered to have him come to her house, our house, so he could recuperate until he was able to go back to his place. It came to a point when my dad asked me to take him back to his place. I told him that he was not well enough to go back and that he needed to say here where I could make sure that he was eating right, taking his medication, and was being looked after. I just didn't know if "wife/GF" was able to do that for him. He insisted that he wanted to go home. So I packed up his shit, threw it in the car, helped him in my car and began to lecture him on what a big fucking mistake it was for him to go back. He was in no shape to go back, nor was the hospital any closer to him, than it was to my mom's house. I yelled at him. This fragile short man. I yelled at him. I felt so ashamed of my self for doing that. To this moment now, I hate my self for doing that. But I was angry. Angry that he was leaving again. Angry that he could not get it through his head that he was not well enough to go back home. Besides, there was drama at the hospital when he has his surgery.
His "other family" where there and wanted to see him as well. I told the charge nurse that I was his blood son, and these other people where not related to me. I wanted to be kept well informed of my father's condition at all times. It even got to the point where we had to slip time in my dad's room. The mornings for them, the afternoons and evenings for us. Again, not preparing for what might happen, did happen. Did he not stop to think that we would eventually see them, or meet them. What was he trying to hide? My brother, sister and I all knew what was going on. For fuck sakes, the "other" girls would call my sister and tell her that dad loved them more than her, and that's why he left us. What kind of crap is that.
I wonder now if they are hurting as much as we where that day in November. I wonder if it hurts them as much as it did us. That feeling of him leaving...again. I really hate feeling like this. All this anger. But I guess it's just a step towards putting things in perspective as well as regaining a normal way of life.
My next post will be my 50th here. I am writing a pretty good story about and older man and a younger women, so stay tuned.
I will share this, as I did with Bud. I'm angry. I'm angry that my dad died. I'm angry that he never came clean about his "wife/GF" or his "other family". I'm angry that he did not prepare for his last days. I'm angry that these other people went about making all the final arrangements, and never once asked my brother, my sister or I for input. I'm angry that I will never be able to vent one last time to my dad for walking out on us, November of 1983. I'm just angry. And I know that is normal and one of the steps in dealing with death.
I hate to lose and death is nothing more than a big loss. It's like game 7 of the World Series. There is no tomorrow, and this one hurts. The way I see it, I've lost my dad three times. The first time when he left us, the second time was after his heart attack in 1998, and now. Please understand, I'm not trying to make my dad out to be a man who never saw his children or would not support them financially or emotionally. He was there when we asked him to be. He was there when we all graduated college, and when my sister got married and our birthdays and shit like that. He was with us on Christmas and spend the night at our mom's house. Mom would get a little pissed at first, but understood that dad was trying to make-up for what he fucked up on and was making an honest effort to spend time with us. That got me to wonder, what did he tell is "wife/GF" and his "other family" out the holidays? The same would go for New Years. He would spend the night at my mom's and go home the next day. Strange, huh.......
When he had his heart attack in May of 1998, my mother offered to have him come to her house, our house, so he could recuperate until he was able to go back to his place. It came to a point when my dad asked me to take him back to his place. I told him that he was not well enough to go back and that he needed to say here where I could make sure that he was eating right, taking his medication, and was being looked after. I just didn't know if "wife/GF" was able to do that for him. He insisted that he wanted to go home. So I packed up his shit, threw it in the car, helped him in my car and began to lecture him on what a big fucking mistake it was for him to go back. He was in no shape to go back, nor was the hospital any closer to him, than it was to my mom's house. I yelled at him. This fragile short man. I yelled at him. I felt so ashamed of my self for doing that. To this moment now, I hate my self for doing that. But I was angry. Angry that he was leaving again. Angry that he could not get it through his head that he was not well enough to go back home. Besides, there was drama at the hospital when he has his surgery.
His "other family" where there and wanted to see him as well. I told the charge nurse that I was his blood son, and these other people where not related to me. I wanted to be kept well informed of my father's condition at all times. It even got to the point where we had to slip time in my dad's room. The mornings for them, the afternoons and evenings for us. Again, not preparing for what might happen, did happen. Did he not stop to think that we would eventually see them, or meet them. What was he trying to hide? My brother, sister and I all knew what was going on. For fuck sakes, the "other" girls would call my sister and tell her that dad loved them more than her, and that's why he left us. What kind of crap is that.
I wonder now if they are hurting as much as we where that day in November. I wonder if it hurts them as much as it did us. That feeling of him leaving...again. I really hate feeling like this. All this anger. But I guess it's just a step towards putting things in perspective as well as regaining a normal way of life.
My next post will be my 50th here. I am writing a pretty good story about and older man and a younger women, so stay tuned.
posted by Romantic Sex Addiction at 5:40 AM
3 Comments:
RSA, we all know your mind is in turmoil at the moment. Get it out of your system in which ever was is effective for you.
Things will then begin to settle and drop back in to place for you.
Don't punish yourself for any of this you are human after all. We'll be here when you get back, take care of yourself.
Hi RSA:
I know that you have probably heard this a million times, and that it is such a bunch of BS, but what you are experiencing with your anger is so normal! I can see how hurt you are, and it never helps when someone that we love but also have so many unresolved issues with dies. Please know that we are here for you, and will be here with an open ear. I hope your pain lessens everyday, and that you can find peace. I have a similar situation with my father minus the other kids, so I understand your frustration...hang in there!
-Andi
Hi There! Just wanted to stop by and let you know the Our Dirty Secret has moved: http://www.keepingitup.blogspot.com!
Continued prayers,
The Mrs.
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