I Still Miss Him

36 years ago today I lost my father to cancer.  I was 15 at the time, my brother 12 and my sister 10.  I had to grow up fast after that.  We still refer to him as "Daddy" because we never stopped calling him that.

His last months were very sad and traumatic.  They did things a lot differently back then.  He had several very invasive surgery's removing a lung, a kidney....I don't like to think about it.

He was a good father.  He was a blue collar worker that worked 60 hours a week to support us.  Every summer he'd take two weeks off and we'd have a family vacation - often driving to Minnesota, South Dakota, Maine - and once to the very tip of Mexico.

He was a WWII Vet and was a Paratrooper Medic at the Battle of Bastogne (I have the plaque they gave him).  He LOVED his mother, his wife, his children.  We had a very special bond - he had hoped for a daughter as his first born and got me :)

My love for music is because of my dad.  Our weekly ritual was to watch the Ed Sullivan Show together and I can remember seeing the first performance by The Beatles and even at the tender age of four, I was hooked!

I still miss him.  I wonder how my life would have been different if he had lived longer.  Would I have been the promiscuous party girl I was in my teens/early 20's?  I think having him around would have made me more stable, but I could be wrong.  Would I have met and married a nice man and had several kids?  Would I have gone to college?  What would Keven be like if he had Grandpa Gerald in his life?  Can the presence of a loving father/grandfather really make a difference?

At the time of his death I shut down emotionally.  I refused to grieve.  I had a traumatic incident happen the day of his funeral that still hurts me to this day (although I've forgiven the people involved).  I chose to stay stoned (smoked pot) every day for at least a year after he died.  So I do understand why some addicts use, it does ease the pain.  But luckily I got sick of it and just quit one day.

I do remember having one breakdown shortly after his death.  I was in Health Class and my teacher was Coach H., a popular football coach who had a daughter my age that also went to my HS.  I'm not sure what he said in class but it touched me and opened a wound and after the bell rang and the classroom emptied, I was still sitting stuck in my chair unable to move.  He asked if I was okay and I broke down crying.  I'll never forget the look on his face, he didn't know what to do.  I think he wanted to hug me but knew he couldn't.  He may have patted my shoulder.  I was crying because I wanted a father, I wanted my father but since he was gone, I wanted Coach H to be my father.  Weird, huh?  It was very embarrassing for both of us so I pulled it together and left.

I don't have a lot of pictures of my dad, he was always behind the camera.  I look like him, like his side of the family, and I think Keven does too.  This is the last pic we have of him with us kids:

Thanks for letting me share!


Peace, Hope and Love, Barbara