Hopefully one day
Hopefully, one day I can enjoy the holidays like most can. I took Mother’s Day for granted. It sucks. Now that my mother is gone, I can’t call and tell her Happy Mother’s Day. I can’t tell her happy Birthday. I don’t get those from her.
Father’s Day is the same way. My daughter died after a week old. Can’t wait to have more children so I can celebrate their birthdays. I can be a good father for them. I can have them come to me and be like “Daddy! Happy Daddy Day!”
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I’m more or less just expressing my sadness/views on the holidays. I don’t want to do something to keep them off my mind. It’s not what I like to do. I’m not the repress type. Very open.
One thing that kind of spurred this all on, this weekend at the DeadCENTER, I noticed how the foreign films showed other families. They’re so close. They spoke so highly of their parents. Especially in Fordson and Elevate. Living at home until they were wed or moved away.
In Elevate, movie about a Senegal basketball camp, they said that their mother’s well being was their number one concern. Now, these are 13-15 year old boys saying this. You don’t really hear about that here. You hear more about disrespect and trouble making in America. Which, it’s sad. I wish we could adopt their way of thinking towards the elders.
American teenagers have really taken everything for granted. I’ll be honest, I was one of those brats who took things for granted. I gave my parents hell at times. However, the number one thing I took for granted is how long they were going to be around. Only people who can really relate with me are the ones who’ve lost a parent. It’s a loss like nothing ever experienced.
However, in my life, I was able to avoid any close deaths outside of 5th grade when we had two class mates die. I knew it was coming though. Tons of my family are elderly per say. My aunt is very sick. Constantly in the hospital. My step father is a boozing alchy and I’m pretty sure his Liver died back in 89. I could just list the different things going on. Instead, I received the worst call January 13, 2010 about 7am. My brother broke the news in a very uncaring way
"Mom Died. Call steve."
He said it like it wasn’t a big deal. I don’t know if it hadn’t hit him yet or what. I would’ve used a lot more care and tact when breaking that news. She had a massive heart attack. She was getting ready for work about 10pm.
My mother had worked her ass off since about 2000. Doesn’t seem like a long time. However, she went from a house wife, to being the only one bringing in an income because my step father is a horrible person, got drunk and couldn’t hold a job. Then his arthritis kicks in, and she is the ONLY one who could work.
It’s tough watching my step”dad” (using the term very loosely) do absolutely nothing but chug Old Milwaukee as she worked so hard. I believe that my mother’s heart attack was a correlation with having to work past her capacity for it.
She was 54. Raising a 15 year old daughter along with working 65 hours a week. Then coming home to deal with an alcoholic who treated her like shit. She never really got the right amount of sleep. I can’t remember the last time my mother looked healthy.
The last time I saw her before I came down, I drove down on a whim. My sister kept waking her up, waking her up, waking her up. My mom worked from 10pm-7am. She would get to sleep around 9am or so, sleep until about 1:30-2pm. Then have to go pick up my sister at school, then she was mother.
I can’t remember the last time she probably saw a doctor. When she had my sister? Yeah, that’s probably the most accurate.
For all this, I hate Steve. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. Not even for the physical and mental abuse he laid on me throughout my childhood. Just for the way he treated my mother. I remember waking up to them yelling and fighting. Him having my mother coward in a corner because she’s so frightened. Pushing and shoving him away. I was probably just a buck o’ 5. Him, proably around 230. Hated hearing her cry and scream at him.
Now, I know my childhood wasn’t all abuse and fights. It was a lot of it. Steve kicked me out in 2002. Right before my senior year. Resentment set in automatically. I can’t get over it.
He tries to be nice now. I don’t forgive him. I’m only in his life because he’s raising my little sister. My older sister, Crystal, has tried many of times to gain custody. Her grades are slipping horribly. Steve doesn’t force her to do homework. It’s sad. However, the only thing I can get from all of this is that it’s his little girl. He treats her like a queen. He tries not to drink too much around her. She’s never felt the abuse that I got as I grew up. She doesn’t remember it either, thank god. Hated that he would do that shit in front of him.
Sorry, got off on a soap box. Back on point: Do not take Mother’s/Father’s Day for granted.
Father’s Day is something that’s more awkward than anything. Do I call myself a father even though my daughter passed away? I assume yes, because even though, it was just a week, I was still a dad. Do I go get myself a tie? I doubt it. I can barely tie them. (thankk you youtube for teaching me). Gabrielle would be almost 4 right now. She was a gorgeous child.
I’m lucky to have some of the best friends I can ask for. However, holidays like these are tough. I don’t really want to be alone, because my friends are my family. However, I can’t ask them to give up their own parents to just give me attention. I’m not that big of an asshole. However, Kama and Flynn were a couple of bad asses on Mother’s Day. We talked and chilled. No repressing just being bad asses and having a blast. We celebrated our Mothers, instead of grieved. It was great.
But, within three years, I lost probably two of the most important people in my life. I just hope no one has to go through what I’ve gone through. I’m sure your life is worse. However, mine isn’t perfect. I can’t just bottle it up. The closer we get to all these holidays, the less I sleep, eat, concentrate. Now that I’m unemployed, I have all this extra thinking time, it’s annoying.
Hopefully, when I get a job I’ll be able to distract myself a little more. Never good to just dwell on things.
Now, like I said, not complaining. Just venting. If you don’t like it, don’t really care. Don’t read it. I’m not fucked up. I don’t need any psychological help. I mean, hell, my life is fantastic outside of this. I have a great roommate. My friends are awesome. I know a lot of people don’t have homes or any friends or ZERO family members around them. I have at least a couple of family members. However, just because I don’t have the worst life, doesn’t mean I can’t occasionally talk about the bad things that has gone on in my life.
Love the blog, hate the blog, got a better idea? Leave a note.