Don't Cry Daddy
Today is my second dad's 65th birthday. And I'm sad.
I guess I should give a little background here: my first dad passed away when I was ten, my mom remarried when I was 14, and my second dad passed away four years ago. I don't use the term 'step' when I talk about Teddy or my two brothers; I've always thought that would be an insult to the relationship that I have with these three men.
Since I was only a child when Daddy died, I don't remember much about him. And the things I do remember, I have to ask myself, are they real memories or just pictures I've made up in my head to go with the stories I've heard all my life? I remember all of the times my mom would sneak my sister and I into his hospital room so we could visit him for a while. He always saved his jell-o for us to snack on. I know I learned the art of a good pun from him. I like to think they are real memories. It will be 25 years next month since the afternoon that changed my life forever. I wonder about how things would be different if Daddy had lived. Would he be proud of me? Would he think I'm pretty? Am I really as much like him as people tell me?
As strange as it may sound, after Teddy came into our lives, I didn't feel so cheated about losing my dad. It was as if God was sending us an angel as a bit of an apology for taking Daddy away. Loving my second dad was not hard at all: he taught me to drive, harassed the boys who dared date his little girl, gave me my rabid love of football, coached me on how to be grown up and loved me unconditionally through it all. When the hospice nurse told us he wouldn't last the week, our entire family sat by his bedside and talked, cried, and even laughed as we told the stories about our lives with Teddy. I was lucky enough to get a few minutes alone with him and took the chance to pour out all of the things I was feeling; things I knew he already knew, but wanted to say anyway. He hadn't been totally lucid for several days, but I felt the need anyway. As I finished, I told him that I was thankful for having him in my life, and that I was going to miss the hell out of him because I loved him so much. He opened his eyes and said "I love you too, Ter." I was shocked, since as I said, he hadn't been lucid for days. I told him that I didn't mean to wake him, I thought he was sleeping. He replied, "Nobody sleeps through 'I love you.'" Those were the last words he spoke; he died a few hours later.
Now, it's July 15th and I'm sad.
I guess I should give a little background here: my first dad passed away when I was ten, my mom remarried when I was 14, and my second dad passed away four years ago. I don't use the term 'step' when I talk about Teddy or my two brothers; I've always thought that would be an insult to the relationship that I have with these three men.
Since I was only a child when Daddy died, I don't remember much about him. And the things I do remember, I have to ask myself, are they real memories or just pictures I've made up in my head to go with the stories I've heard all my life? I remember all of the times my mom would sneak my sister and I into his hospital room so we could visit him for a while. He always saved his jell-o for us to snack on. I know I learned the art of a good pun from him. I like to think they are real memories. It will be 25 years next month since the afternoon that changed my life forever. I wonder about how things would be different if Daddy had lived. Would he be proud of me? Would he think I'm pretty? Am I really as much like him as people tell me?
As strange as it may sound, after Teddy came into our lives, I didn't feel so cheated about losing my dad. It was as if God was sending us an angel as a bit of an apology for taking Daddy away. Loving my second dad was not hard at all: he taught me to drive, harassed the boys who dared date his little girl, gave me my rabid love of football, coached me on how to be grown up and loved me unconditionally through it all. When the hospice nurse told us he wouldn't last the week, our entire family sat by his bedside and talked, cried, and even laughed as we told the stories about our lives with Teddy. I was lucky enough to get a few minutes alone with him and took the chance to pour out all of the things I was feeling; things I knew he already knew, but wanted to say anyway. He hadn't been totally lucid for several days, but I felt the need anyway. As I finished, I told him that I was thankful for having him in my life, and that I was going to miss the hell out of him because I loved him so much. He opened his eyes and said "I love you too, Ter." I was shocked, since as I said, he hadn't been lucid for days. I told him that I didn't mean to wake him, I thought he was sleeping. He replied, "Nobody sleeps through 'I love you.'" Those were the last words he spoke; he died a few hours later.
Now, it's July 15th and I'm sad.
posted by kcterrilynn at 7:24 AM
3 Comments:
wow, that brought a tear to my eye. You were really lucky to have had Teddy after your first dad passed. It's great that you had that time alone with teddy to tell him everything you wanted to. Hang in there today and try to smile! :)
wow, what a story. you were lucky to have Teddy. hang in there girl.
Thanks, guys. I decided that being sad was no way to celebrate my his birthday, so I got happy.
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