I don't exactly miss him but I do feel sad that his life ended, his time ran out. But, I also feel a little angry that he let it happen. Not that he could have done much differently at the end, when it was already too late. But, he could have done something far earlier about his heart. You don't get 80% blockage over night. He also had diabetes yet still ate pretty much the same sugar and grease as always. He made his choices. He didn't get the doctors to really check his heart until he was having chest pains every day. Anyway, it doesn't really matter any more. You can whine about spilled milk but it won't put Humpty Dumpty back together.

It's strange to know he is dead but not feel it. Also, last night, I had creepy feelings that I would see him (as he looked in the hospital) in the hall at the house. Standing there looking dead. Silly, but that's what happens to you when you are alone in the house of renovations and have far too much imagination.

As far as I know the only one of us to get any memorable last words from him was my brother. Dad told him not to feel bad about all the lifting and such he had done. Maybe even Dad was able to look outside himself enough to see that Graham would be thinking about that, feeling guilty and wondering if he could have done things differently. Not that he could. Dad liked to be the martyr, poor me. He would tell other people all about how he had to do it all himself. Never mentioning that he never asked for help, let anyone know he was doing anything that he could use help with. He'd only announce that he needed help when he was done and then he would only tell us to blame us for not being there.

Anyway, no memorable last words for me. Unless you count the usual stuff about how useless I am, how ugly I am and how I will never do well. Ne'er do well. That could be engraved on my tombstone. It feels like my middle name by now. So, that stuff can't count as last words since it became pretty much standard, a given each time he was around me.

I used to wonder if there was some kind of final judgement. I think for each person who believes in each god and religion you do have the kind of final wind up that you are expecting. Not even cause it's real just cause you play it out for yourself. Maybe even before you are fully dead. Of course no one will ever prove that theory. Anyway, I used to wonder if for Dad's final judgement someone would show him how all his words affected his family. Me in particular of course, but not only me. I wondered if he would regret his words and his actions. I'd like to think that he would if he ever could finally understand how difficult he made things for each of us. How hard it was to be his daughter.

Not that I want to sound like a whiner or speak ill of the dead. But, he was my Dad, not yours. So you can't sit in judgement of me cause you don't know. I do seem to feel the need to please more than I would like. But, I find that when I break from that other people act like I am horribly nasty. It's as if nice people have to be door mats and let the world run over them. But I think you can be nice and not be stupid or a door mat either. Being nice is not the same as being simple or stupid.

It's now 4:07 AM. Not a lot of sleeping lately, one way or another. I'm at my sisters house tonight, sleeping on the couch with a view of the street. I like the view, the lights and the darkness. It's peaceful and relaxing at night when there is no traffic. Just the the birds, soon. They aren't even awake yet but they will be soon.

Zack accidentally bent the frames of my glasses, twice yesterday evening. So aggravating to feel like I'm looking out of fishbowl now. I hope to find some place open to fix them today. But, it's a holiday here so likely I will have to stick with them as is till Tuesday. I hear young Zack up now. Too early but he is a kid. I used to be an extra early riser too. I guess I still am but now I'm old enough to put myself back to bed.

Comments

elementalmuse

Sorrow and loss always leaves me speechless. I want to give you a hug and tell you I care.

anonymous - Small Nagging Voice

I can hear the pain, hurt and anger in your recent posts. "So you can't sit in judgment of me cause you don't know."

I don't think your response is inappropriate from what I have heard. It is inappropriate for your extended family to interfere with your unique grieving process. You ARE grieving the loss of your father. It is just different for you. He left you when you lost respect for him, long before his attack. He died slowly with every nasty comment. The sadness for you is that he didn't come back to you before he died. He now has no ability to be the dad you wanted desperately for him to be.

Sadly, you carry a small version of his voice in the back of your head and it is likely that every time you falter in something, you will hear this nasty voice.

With faith and hope, this voice will slowly fade.

Tim R, author of The PBGs Path ( http://pbgs.blogspot.com email: Terminalman90{at}gmail{dot}com)

me

That was really insightful. I have been thinking of that over and over these past days. Told my Mom about it too. I'm so glad you posted. Let me stop feeling bad for not feeling what I thought was 'right'. I went to his memorial service and heard people who knew him through the Lions club, business, golf buddies, etc talk about what a great guy he was. Someone called him a teddy bear. Another said how he never got angry and was always fair, listened, etc. He was never those things with or for me. But I don't feel angry anymore. Just kind of sad that he missed out on being a better part of my life and me with him. His choice as he was the adult when I was just a kid. Later it was just too late, too much water under that bridge and he just never seemed to want anything different. My Mom said there were times when he regretted how things were and he tried to talk to me. But I expect they were too few and far between. How can any daughter know that was a day he wanted to change when it seemed just like any of the other days before and after. I think people have to know what they want to change before they can hope for any success at it. I don't think he knew. He always made me feel I was the one at fault, never good enough. If we didn't get along I was too sensitive. If he was mad it was somehow my fault, etc. You can't break a pattern you've put so much time into building in just one minute here and there.