Now that I’m back in Wisconsin and life is hectic with a baby, multiple jobs, 2 dogs, a husband with a weird work schedule and just life in general, things are nuts. I kind of just kept going when I got home. It’s like I hadn’t left. I didn’t have time to really sit and process. I got home very late at night and the next day dove head first into my life at home. In some ways this helped me. Ive stayed very busy, tried to keep myself from having to think about everything that had happened.
People would tell me how sorry they were to hear about my father. What am I supposed to say. I’m sorry too. No one knew for years I was like a lifeline for my father. It was like a full time job. Checking in on him, sending him things all the time to brighten his day, staying as connected as possible in hopes that I would get a sense if something was going downhill so that I could fix it. This was a huge source of anxiety for me that I kept hidden for so long. I loved my father so much that I just wanted him to be okay. I loved my long phone calls with my dad. We would talk forever. About anything and everything. After my daughter was born I always looked forward to our Skype sessions. It’s like he was himself again when interacting with Her. He loved her so much. He would have been the worlds best grandfather. I know that because as a small child I would boast about how amazing my dad was. I would tell everyone that I was a daddy’s girl. I did everything with my father. We would go out a drive for what seemed like an eternity and he would pull over at all these random places and capture the most beautiful scenery. He would watch A Little Princess with me on rainy days and never complained no matter what Even if it was the 100th time he had seen it with me. He taught me how to make the worlds best French toast. He always made me feel beyond valued and important.
He went above and beyond for anyone and everyone. I had two very close friends, one in elementary school and one in middle school that did not have the best home lives. They would stay almost every weekend and my father would take us to do fun things like see movies, summer camp, go to the mall, Barnes and noble (that was one of my favorites), church, or my parents would just pick them up at any time of day or night that they felt like they needed to be at a place they felt safe and at home.
Yes he lived with an illness that sometimes made him seem like a different person but it certainly did not define him. So when people say that they are sorry to hear about my father I think , I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see how wonderful of a human being he was and if you did I’m sorry for your loss too because he was an amazing person….