There is one person you will rarely ever see me write about – and that is my Dad. I really don’t even talk about him much, because it just plain old makes me sad and shit I hate crying.
Three years ago today was my Fathers funeral, he was 50 years old. He died of Cancer seven months after he was diagnosed with Adenocarcinoma. Lung Cancer. Very few things in the world say “you’re toast” faster then Lung cancer.
Am I bitter? Fuck yeah. Although there are so many things in the world that you have no control over, he could have stopped smoking many years ago (like maybe when I was diagnosed with allergies to the crap) – but no they never did give up the
white trash sticks cigarettes.
Do I feel like I got ripped off? Abso-fucking-lutely. My Dad will never see me get married, and never met The Dictator or my dog. I know it sounds trivial, but when someone is missing in your life these things become very important.
Do I feel like my son got ripped off? For sure I do, my Dad would have been the greatest Grandpa around.
There is always silver lining to every cloud though:
- He didn’t suffer or deteriorate much before he died, in fact he died so quickly that it shocked us all
- My Mom was left in a good financial position
- She quit smoking
- He met the man who is the father to my child and who I may eventually marry
- He saw me finish school
- He saw us purchase our first home
- Eventually we all got on with our lives
What bothers me most now is that I am starting to forget. I forget how he smelled when he was getting ready to go out with my Mom (although the smell of Zest soap still can do me in quickly). I forget how he laughed. Most disturbing of all, I forget what his voice sounded like – and that kills me. I don’t want to forget those things.
Needless to say, Valentines Day is pretty much ignored in this house now.