I tried really hard to finish writing this back in May. I wrote most of it and then couldn't write any longer. I had to close my laptop, put it away and think of other things. It was just too hard. I think that grief is like that. It comes in waves--some knocking me down, others letting me get back up, slowly. It's been a weird type of year--for many reasons. However, I do believe that my grief over my father's death has been delayed. I am just now dealing with it.
It was my dad's birthday in May. He would have been 86. That's how old he would have been. 86. He was born on Cinco de Mayo. I always laughed a little by this coincidence because he actually looked as though he could have been of Mexican descent. He wasn't though. Nope, just part Native American and Irish, with a little Scottish thrown in.
It was too strange for me to think of my father's death on his birthday. He passed away last July, he was 85 years old. And even though it was "for the best" it was still hard. And even though we had a different type of relationship, it was still hard. I am trying to wrap my brain around this. Why was it so hard? Why wasn't I able to write about it? Why couldn't I finish the blog and post it? We weren't that close, we never talked, we rarely saw each other, and yet, his death has still taken its toll on me.
Even as Father's Day approached, I found that I could not look at the cards without crying, so I would leave the stores and think--I'll do it later when I'm not so emotional. That day never came. Looking at birthday cards and Father's Day cards is just too hard right now.
My father had 3 daughters, 9 grandchildren, and 8 great grandchildren at the time of his death. It has always bothered me that he never met 5 of my 7 grandchildren. I guess I could be a little more positive here and say, well, at least he met 2 of them. However, I'm not in the mood to be positive right now. So, I'm going to stick with the fact that he never met the other 5. Yep, I'm going to wallow in a bit of self-pity. Just because I feel like it.
My little family moved away from California almost 18 years ago. It was before my children married and began families of their own. And though my husband and I visit often, as does our daughter and her family, my sons have not. And so, it saddens me that my dad didn't watch my sons become men. That he never met their families, their children, my grandchildren, and his great grandchildren. I wish that he could have seen my sons all grown up, could have watched them parent their children, could have smiled at the antics of my silly grandchildren, but that was never to be.
Yes, I am a little nostalgic today. Time marched on without him and he has missed out. Which has me thinking--I don't want to miss out. I don't want to have distant relationships with my kids or my grandkids. I want to be and feel close to all of them. I don't want anything (not health or finances) to get in the way. I want them to know how much they are loved. I want them to know how proud I am of them, how much I admire them and how much they mean to me. I want to shower them with affection, gifts, and time. I want what I didn't get--for them.
Today, I am a little sad. For what could have been, what should have been and for what never will be. I notice that I am spending a lot of time thinking and pondering relationships, and their importance to me. I value them--those relationships of mine. I treasure them. I hold them near to my heart and I cry for what I missed out on as a child and also as an adult child. I would have loved to have had a real relationship with my own father. There were parts missing. Big huge empty parts. I don't want that for my own children. I want them to know that I will love them no matter what. Even if they make me mad, hurt my feelings, say mean things, ignore my advice, etc. I will always be there for them! Listening, praying, loving them. Even on the hard days.
I've tried so hard during my adult life to analyze relationships between a parent and child, and parent and adult child. And, in my opinion, it comes down to this. As the parent--you put in the effort. You start the dialog. You never, ever stop parenting. You be there--forever! And I will be. I'll always be there for my kids. I'll listen, I'll advise (when asked), and I'll pray for them. Same with my grandchildren. My love will know no limits. It will be and is unconditional. I will not take these relationships for granted. They are far too precious for that. I'm not saying that there won't be hiccups along the way, I'm just saying don't let them ever get in the way. Big difference! Huge!
I think that I am saying all that for this--get involved, stay involved. Love beyond measure. Hug it out. Talk it out. Laugh a lot. Pray a lot. Be there. Do it. Buy it. Go there. Time is of the essence. It really and truly is. Tomorrow might not come.
So, happy birthday Dad. Happy Cinco de Mayo. Happy Father's Day. I know that you are far happier in heaven with Jesus than you would be here on earth suffering. I am happy that you are pain-free. I am happy that you are with God. I do miss you. I do wish that I could have spent more time with you. I do wish for many things that will never be, but that is in the past. I will see you again one day when it is my time to join you in heaven. Until then--I hope you are being good up there!
