When I first started this blog I told myself I would write about everything in my life not just the good moments but the bad ones too. Today is no exception. Its been two weeks since my father passed away. These passed two weeks have seemed more like a dream than anything else. Even though he was only 55 years old he had been having heart problems for years. He always seemed to end up at the hospital every time there was a big moment in my life. I would always tease him and tell him that he was always just trying to steal my thunder. He would just laugh and agree with me. As soon as I got married he pushed for a grand child. He would tell me his wish was to be able to see one of his grand children before he dies and I would ways respond back with”Well you better start taking better care of yourself!” But sadly he never listened.
A month before he died he was in a car accident with my mom, his sugar had dropped and he passed out behind the wheel. When he came out of the hospital he declared himself a new man. He saw the accident as God giving him a second chance in life and he wasn’t going to pass it up. He was going to finally follow the doctors orders and take his medication as he should. He was going to stop drinking and possibly cut back on the smoking. But sadly that only lasted for a week or two.
When I first heard the news about his passing I was angry. Angry with the fact that he was making us going through all this grief. Angry that he didn’t care enough about his family or for himself to take care of his health, but mostly I was angry for my daughter. His wish of meeting her before he passed came true, but what about her? She is too young to have a single memory of him. Not only will she not be able to remember him but she wont even be able to visit his grave. She wont be able to go visit him and sing him happy birthday to him on his birthday or put letters or flowers on his grave for father’s day. She wont be able to do any of this because his last wish was to be buried with his parents in Mexico. I look at my daughter and think why would anyone not want to fight for their life just to be able to see her grow up. Why wouldn’t you take care of yourself to be able to see her walk her first steps or hear her tell her first words. I was angry because the doctors told him if he didn’t take his medication as directed he would die and with several close calls he still did nothing about it.
Slowly all the anger in me has gone away and I am left with sadness. Not sadness that he is no longer with us but sadness over the fact of how he spent his last living years. Years of worrying about his heart and about his sickness. What I’m mostly sad about was how he just stopped talking to me. He was a man of few words but when it was just the two of us to he would always have something to say. Like who is that boy you were talking to? Smooth dad. Or that’s fine you can have a boyfriend just don’t tell your mother and if you do don’t tell her I knew. That all changed when I moved out on my own. My dad was very old fashion and he couldn’t understand why I would move out if I had a home with my family. Slowly he stopped talking to me about my personal life and only asked me about my car and my job. Then I got married and he would merely say hi and bye to me. I think the moment that I got married he felt I was no longer had his daughter. I’m sad that he felt as if he couldn’t talk to me a more. I’m filled with sadness to think that if we still talked then maybe I could have been able to help him get better. I’m sad that we lost once we once had.
The only peace I have is knowing that he passed like he would have wanted to. He was in a place surrounded with good people, good music and good food. In a place that reminded him of his childhood when life was a simpler place. We are blessed in knowing that he did not suffer, he just sat back and passed quietly. He was deathly afraid of hospitals and the possibility of dying on a hospital bed so I thank God that at least he wasn’t afraid the moment he died. Now all that is left is our memories of him. We can choose to remember him during his sickness or we can choose to only remember the good times we shared. The times I would stay in the car while my mom went shopping and he taught me how to play poker or how he would let me hang on his neck when I would go swimming because I was afraid of the sharks at the bottom of the pool. I can stay angry with him for so many more reasons but the past is the past and there isn’t anything we can do about it anymore. I have learned to forgive and even though forgiving is easier than forgetting at least its a start.
All I can say is our holidays will be a lot less exciting without his crazy ass around anymore. We will all miss you Dad.