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Cheers
Give a Cheer
Give a Cheer
I did this for the March Journaling Challenge "Sadness"
The title is from the song "The Living Years" by MIke and the Mechanics.
I wasn't there that morning when my father passed away. I didn't get to tell him, all the thing i had to say. I think I caught his spirit, later that same year, I think I heard his echo in my baby's new born tears. I just wish I could've told him, in the Living Years."
It is a letter I wrote to my father who passed on 2/15/08. Journaling reads:
March 15, 2008
Dear Dad
Today is one month since you've been gone. I know I wished that your unhappiness would end but I expected to have more time to prepare to say goodbye. I know you were unhappy in your living conditions but I don't think either of us wanted it to happen without me being there. You were ill for so long and there was always something else that came out. I figured you'd have a drawn out illness where I would have time to say goodbye. When I got the call that said you turned blue and were being rushed to the hospital I knew you were already gone. No one just turns blue, and you had DNR orders so trying to save you wasn't an option, even though I'm glad they tried. I think that's why I didn't rush to the hospital right away and went home to get my purse. I knew you were already gone and didn't want to go. Then when the nurse called and said to just come to the nursing home I knew you were gone. It made no sense. I didn't expect to break down so badly. I thought I was prepared but to see you laying there just like you were sleeping was so confusing. I remember feeling for a pulse, thinking you were too cold and needed a blanket, and watching your chest praying you'd take a breath. All I could do was cry and beg you to wake up…but you couldn't.
There weren't many people at your wake but I believe it was better that way. You were very popular at the American Legion and they did a beautiful dedication of last rites for you that Aunt Theresa organized. The group that was there were close and personal, and we got to share funny stories. I especially loved to hear how when you sent George a letter it became a family gathering reading. And everyone laughed at how you were amazed at the ‘size of the asses' on the southern women. We talked about you and Joe started your band. I know Joe was broken hearted to lose his best friend, but what surprised me was to see Ronnie cry. I hope you know how much you were loved and will be missed.
When the phone rings I expect it to be you. I still find myself wanting to go by the nursing home to see you, the nurses and the other residents we became friends with. I still want to call you to say “Daddy, I'm sick” and have you wish me better. I still find myself drawn to want to turn to your old apartment to pick you up to go shopping on Saturdays. I still feel the urge to turn off and drive by the nursing home and make that long walk down the hallway to your room. It's a very strange feeling having to ‘drop' someone from your life and schedule.
I'm glad that my friends convinced me that I should start giving you hugs and saying ”I love you” while I had the chance. I was always so afraid to hug you or say “I love you” because you weren't the overtly emotional type, and I was afraid to be rejected. But looking back I know you cared about me and loved me. You just showed it differently. I know when you called me “baby” that was your loving way of addressing me. And when I would get sick, even as an adult, you would call to check on me to make sure I was ok even if you were in the hospital yourself. That's a caring father.
I hope you know I was there the night before (Valentine's Day). I got there late and didn't want to wake you….I saw the bag I left was put away but did you know I was there or did the nurse put it away before you saw it? I should've woke you just to say “Hey Dad, I'm here and leaving something for you. Love you and see you tomorrow.” But I didn't. It will be something I always will regret. Kyleigh had a card for you that I never got to give you so I put it in your casket with photos of her so you can brag in heaven.
The significance of the date you passed is haunting as well. I'm sure you know all my secrets now that you are on the other side. I just hope you are taking care of my other child I decided not to have and the two that I lost.
I want you to know that I have learned from you and now that you have given us the opportunity to be debt free I will not take advantage of that. You came from a different generation (ok 2-3 generations) so you couldn't understand a lot about the costs of living as I grew up. You argued with me about college costs, book costs, housing, etc. But even though you didn't understand you would finally concede and trusted me to do the right thing with your money. I still don't know how you and mom got together. It is so impressive that you saved $50,000 in cash in your lifetime by simply saving and not blowing your money on credit card purchases, cars, etc. I'm glad I could give you that pride and joy. And you helped me when I needed it the most: the house in Savannah, helping us with bills when I was out of work (we would've lost the house if it weren't for you), my eyesight surgery, our truck when Bret lost his job. And of course, the In Vitro that brought us our most precious gift, your granddaughter, Kyleigh. I can never thank you enough for that. You gave me life not once, but twice, in 1971 and in 2003.
I hope you're at peace now and are with those you loved who passed before you. I know I'll see you many years from now on the other side, and this time I won't be afraid to hug you and tell you I love you.
All my love,
Glenda
Thanks for spreading positivity!
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