Thursday, February 17, 2011

My Daddy

To start off, so there is no confusion to those who don’t really know my story, I was raised by my grandparents. They took us kids when I was 5. So to me, they are mom and dad. And this past week, I found out that contrary to what everyone thought, they were not our guardians, they had legally adopted us. So that makes it even more so that they are my mom and dad. And this was a shocker to me. They told us that they had told us when we were little but I assume that somehow I blocked knowing this. I was a damaged kid when they took us, right from the start. The abuse inflicted on my siblings and I had scarred me. My brother and sister were too young to remember, but I remember it all very well. And I remember things that my mom confirmed to be true. So in my dad’s passing, I found some sort of peace and closure as well.

It was a very rough week for my brother, sister and I. We all had different memories of daddy and our own individual stories with him.  And just being with him in those days, no matter how hard it was to see him like that, I wouldn’t of wanted it any other way.  Before his rapid decline, I knew that briefly, he was there with us. He squeezed my hand at my request, and there would be times that one of us would be telling a story, and even though he wasn’t awake, tears would run down his face.  

As the week got later, and he started to decline, his responses became less and less and we were told to watch what we said around him as he could still hear us. And before I boarded my plane to come home, I requested time with my brother and sister and him. I really felt that as the oldest of us three, I needed to step up and tell him that it was okay to let go. That we were all there, and Mom wouldn’t be alone. I let him know that he raised us well, and that even after my struggles, I had gotten my life straightened out and we would do what needed to be done. I let him know that I wasn’t going to say goodbye when it was time for me to go, but rather that I would see him later. And I stuck to that as I left for the airport, I hugged him, kissed his forehead, and told him to remember what I told him, that it was okay to let go, and that I would see him later.  I hugged my mom, promised her that it wouldn’t be that long until I saw her again and told her I loved her as well.  I left in tears.  I cried all the way to Houston, and then all the way back to California. And when I landed, I got a phone call saying he had passed…

I have since then struggled with my emotions. I wish I could have been there to see him go. And I really wish that I had made an effort to see him sooner. But what’s done is done and I know that he’s no longer in pain. Does that help with the pain of his passing? Not at all. Especially with my wedding coming up. I really wanted them to meet John and to see me get married. If they had made it to the wedding, I was going to ask him to walk me down the aisle. And now, he’s gone.

Life is short people. So I am going to close this with my facebook status from Tuesday…Hold tight to your most precious joys. Make memories, Laugh a lot, and Love more. Never take life for granted, and Open your eyes to the things you have in front of you and remember that it could all be gone in the blink of an eye…

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