Its crazy how time flies. Tomorrow marks 5 years since I
lost my Daddy to cancer. I loved him so much...It’s been playing in my mind, not only losing him to
death, but how we lost each other for so long prior to his illness, prior to
Angela’s death.
Daddy and I were so close but until around 1993. He was
always my hero! When I was little and we would make the 4.5 hour drive to the cabin
he would tell me these tall “big buck” stories and of course the story of
“Falling Rock” (you know the signs you see). They were crazy tall tales but I
hung on his every word! He taught me every “Marine Corp” trick he had up his
sleeve, like how to keep a boy from getting fresh by pushing inward on any of
the tips of his fingers. He taught me to ride 4 wheeler, shoot, skin rabbits
and deer, sharpen knives with a sharping stone…all the things a girl needs to
know (actually I think he tried desperately to make me in to a boy for the
longest time). We had so many wonderful times…far too many to mention. Then as
things go…it all began to fall apart.
I remember the first time I heard of his affair. It was
devastating…he was destroying Momma; he was destroying my family… Angela’s
family…I was already divorced from my abusive, cheating, husband, and now
Daddy. The entire situation was a horrible, painful…mess to say the least.
Initially, it was difficult to not take sides…but I really did stay neutral for
the most part. Daddy stayed in contact with Angie and I at first…but the calls
and visits became less frequent, as the his new love moved in and they created
their new life together.
Over time I grew to except the situation, so it wasn’t like
I was bashing it or creating tension. I just wanted to keep my Daddy in our
lives. I needed him, Angie needed him and yet… her kids became his new family.
They got to go to the beach house all summer, they got to go to Disney World, and
they were invited over for holidays. Daddy had to sneak around to visit me…
usually at work. I couldn’t call after 5:00 and never on Friday’s when she
wasn’t working. I couldn’t understand why there were so many rules when it came
to our relationship. Bottom line…I had him first. She didn’t want us around…we
were the connection to his old life. During this time he denied it, but that
year and a half we spent together when he got sick there were a lot of things
that finally came out about the whole sorted situation. Maybe he didn’t realize
what was happening over those ten long years….maybe he did… maybe he began to
believe I was the problem…and that she had no accountability. Perhaps that’s
why when Momma would try and talk to him about it he would say it was my
responsibility to maintain the relationship.
MY responsibility? Seriously? Wait a minute…he’s the one who
stepped out of bounds. He’s the one that decided to change the entire family
dynamic. He’s the one who moved, figuratively speaking and it became my
responsibility to maintain what we had. Did I have some responsibility sure!
But just because he had a new life, a new wife, didn’t make him exempt to being
my Daddy and Grampy to Angie. I grew weary of hearing how victimized she was,
how she wasn’t comfortable she was around us no matter how polite we were to
her.
The night before Angela died was her birthday. We were all
sitting around the table while she opened her gifts. She opened the card from
Daddy and it in was $50.00 and a note signed Love you Lum Lum, Grampy…I
remember her voice cracking as she said “I would have rather just gotten a
phone call from him”. It had been a long, long time since he had even called
her. The next day she was gone. A week later Daddy was at the University of
Penn in critical condition from Leukemia. Every day I drove the new wife to
Philly and back. When Daddy came home I refused to be denied access to him. I
visited often but never was given time alone with him. Everything was her
business…so unfair. Truth is NOT everything was her business. So, I started
taking off work early to get there an hour or so before she got home just so I
could be alone with him. We talked about everything, we healed… we reconnected…how
I loved him. She still had control though…he loved when I called him Daddy…she
hated it therefore he asked me not to call him that around her because it always
started a fight. For him I would do whatever made things easier for him.
Spending time with him again flooded my heart with so many memories and regret
for our lost years. He too had the same reaction…sad isn’t it?
The day Daddy died I was never left alone with him for more
than 2-3 minutes. Even though he knew he was dying it was not allowed to be
mentioned. I never got the chance to say goodbye to him while he was still coherent.
I remember every moment like it was yesterday, every painful moment. I prayed
and gave thanks that we had that last year and a half together. God gave us
that time together and I am forever grateful and blessed by it. I miss him
terribly.
After the funeral, I was told I was the worst daughter ever.
I was informed of how badly I hurt him and how she had to deal with all his
pain…forever the victim I guess. I received not one of Daddy's that I requested
because I didn’t deserve it. But no one can take away our time together or the
truths I learned about the “goings on” behind closed doors. No one can take
away the love.
Do I still sound bitter? Actually, sometimes I still am…but
what I describe here isn’t coming from a bitter heart just the plain truth. Have
I forgiven them…absolutely…have I forgiven her…yes I have…because I am
commanded to forgive, because I don’t want to carry anger in my heart…because I
refuse to play the role of victim.
