Life | I miss you dad

Monday, August 17, 2020

I don't tend to write too many personal posts here; although I wanted to when I started this blog. It's just hard when people aren't driven to blogs for personal posts like they use to be. And I know the whole "it's your blog, post what you want!" but you also don't want to let your readers down. Idk, maybe it's just me?

I'm rambling.
I also have a migraine.
And I'm writing this at 616am.

One year ago today my dad passed away in his sleep.

He had been battling cancer for 8 years. I hadn't seen him in 6 years. That will always be one of the hardest realities to face. I wouldn't say my dad and I were close exactly, but we got along better than me and my mom did while I was growing up. I was a spoiled jerk as a teenager (just thinking back on how I acted gets on my nerves but I was also a very angry teenager for reasons I don't really want to mention) but I was definitely always a Daddy's Girl.

My dad taught me a ton of things; like how to drive (even if I didn't listen and scared the shit out of him), how to play video games (he introduced me to Tetris and FreeCell), how to make Deviled Eggs. He always supported my love for computers, technology and most of all -- gaming. Every new console that came out, my dad would buy for me. If I wanted a new desktop, my dad would get it for me.

There were a lot of things we didn't agree on and things we argued about. Our OCD's would clash so hard all the time. And he would always talk to me like he knew what was best for me without even hearing my side of the argument. And he complained about even the SMALLEST things, a lot. Being around him became stressful and even more so when he was diagnosed with cancer. He used that as an excuse for everything.

 My dad loved my ex husband. I don't know why but he just did. When we were in high school my ex would have to walk to school (and he really really did not live close to school at all); if my dad spotted him walking (no literally, he'd drive in the direction of his house to make sure) he'd pick him up and drive him to school (and this is when we were still just friends). He drove my ex to every interview, every job training, he drove him to everything he had to attend for the military and picked him up when he came home. My ex wasn't close to his dad at all, they had a very hard and complicated relationship so my dad was like a dad to him growing up. And in some ways that's hard too, I'm unable to vent my anxieties about my dad's death anniversary with him anymore. And that too also feels like losing a family member. But seeing how much my dad cared about my ex was kinda sweet to witness.

The process of his cancer was slow. Slower than most. He had a bone marrow type that I can't remember the name of that I think was triggered by his anemia (something he passed down to me). He started radiation therapy and did that for awhile. But it wasn't like he lost any hair or weight in the first few years. After I had moved back to Florida I'm not exactly sure how the process was since I wasn't there and pictures on your aunt's Facebook can only tell you so much. But every time he called he would say he was "fine, just feeling a little sick." which was something he'd normally say. Cancer or not. So I brushed it off.

When I got pregnant with my daughter, he was excited for me. Probably the only person in my life during my first trimester that wasn't upset or guilting me or making me feel bad. And through out the pregnancy he'd ask me how I was doing, did I eat lunch (another staple question of his) and if I needed any money to feed cravings. When my daughter was born he was totally in love with her. Constantly asked me to send him pictures. Asked how she was doing. If she had a safe place to sleep. And just all around making sure she was okay. I got to see a side of him I didn't get to see as his own kid; the excitement and joy my daughter brought out of him was nice to see.

My dad absolutely loved me in his own way, the problem with that is sometimes you don't see it or get it until they're gone. I guess that's mostly my fault for not looking hard enough to begin with. And when someone close to you passes away in what you feel was "suddenly" there's a lot of questions. A lot of regret. A lot of anxiety. There's a shit ton of sadness in the fact that he won't get to see my daughter grow up. And that just hurts like nothing I can put into words.

It's been a year since you've been gone; I can't say if it's gotten easier or not. Some days it feels like the day you passed all over again. There's so many things I want to tell you. So many pictures of Tums I want to send you and so many videos of her dancing that you would love.

I miss you dad.

Thank you for everything.

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