You Can’t Be Grandpa If You Aren’t There
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Since I started this blog in June, I have found it very therapeutic to write out everything and address it on a blank document. To put it all out there is like spilling your soul – similar to how you would in a counseling session.
But there’s been one topic that I have avoided. A topic that I really need to get out there now more than ever.
I have been avoiding it because I’m not the type to air dirty laundry. I don’t need to put drama all over the place. Even though there are false narratives floating around about me on this topic, I didn’t want to expend the negative energy outwards to right them.
But it’s time.
When I was around ten years old, my parents started a plan to build a new house. They found a property that they both loved and then a contractor. They would go out every day to check on the progress of the build. It was a big deal to them. When they had me, they were really young and barely had enough money to make ends meet. I remember my mom telling me that they always made sure that they had enough money for my diapers and formula, and then they would live off of macaroni and cheese and ramen so that they could make the rent.
My mom also told me a story about a time in our life when she would go to work and after paying gas and a babysitter, she would only have a few dollars left over. But as she told it: “we needed those few dollars, so I had to do it”.
Suffice it to say, money was a struggle.
But my mom and dad worked their asses off and were able to get to a place where they could build their dream home. You know where my mom found the house plan? The Kalamazoo Gazette. She kept a clipping from the Sunday “Home” section for years until they were able to make their dream a reality. I remember her pulling it out to look at it, and how excited she would get.
When my mom passed, my dad didn’t want a traditional gravesite. He wanted her ashes buried in her gardens, on the property that her home was built on. And that’s what we did. Everyone who loved her gathered one Saturday and brought something to contribute to her “memorial garden”. The end result was beautiful, with mini statues, colorful flowers and plants, and even the necklace that I had gotten her for Christmas. She never got to open it because she died before the holiday.
As time went on and my dad started dating, it never registered in my mind that I could lose all of that. Not only the memories but access to her garden.
I never thought that my dad would ever be in a place where he wanted to leave, but I was wrong.
One day I was at work and I got a text from my dad. Via this text he told me that he wanted to ask his girlfriend to marry him, and what did I think? First I admonished him for asking me that via text, and then I called him. At the time, I had no issue with the woman he chose to spend his life with. The only fault I found was that she wasn’t my mom, but obviously, that couldn’t be changed. I didn’t want him to be lonely, and I knew that this woman made him happy. I told him I thought he should ask her.
A few days later I called him to talk about the house because it had just registered to me that it would then become partially hers. I told him that what I would really love would be to have something in place where if he were to pass away too, that one of his 3 children would have the ability to inherit the house. Even if it meant that his wife continued to live there, as long as it could remain in the family, being that my mom was buried there.
This wasn’t a problem, according to him.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
However, a few days later it was a problem. Here is where I don’t want to air dirty laundry, but suffice it to say that the plan was no longer the plan.
And with that, I lost my dad. Then my brother, who sided with dad. And an aunt, uncle and two cousins – the ones that introduced my dad to the new wife. I lost a huge chunk of my family in one swoop, on top of losing my mom only a year and a half earlier.
You Can’t Be Grandpa If You Aren’t There.
Fast forward, and the relationship that I had with my oldest child dwindled fast. Due to adopting him as a teenager, our relationship was always complex, but it got even worse.
So many relationships gone in such a short period of time.
And here I am today, and all that I can say is – I miss my family.
I miss my mom and the ability to run to someone with a problem who I know will always be on my side.
I miss my dad and the sense of humor that he has.
And I miss my brother and all of the inside jokes we had together.
I miss my son and the great conversations we used to have.
I just miss them.
You Can’t Be Grandpa If You Aren’t There
My dad and brother have never even met my baby. My daughter doesn’t even remember them. One day she looked at me and said: “Do you have a dad?”
And because of my children, I can’t just pick up the relationships again. Not that it’s possible anyway, as I’ve tried calling my dad three times and he doesn’t return my calls. But I can’t just bring in “Grandpa”. They know one grandpa, and it’s not my dad. Grandpa’s aren’t people who show up 4 years into your life. Grandpa’s want to be there. I couldn’t risk bringing him in to have him jet out again if something else came up. My children can’t go through what I have gone through. It hurts too much. They need to be surrounded by people who want to be around them. People that think they are the greatest gifts this world could receive because they are. That think they have hung the moon and the stars because they have.
You Can’t Be Grandpa If You Aren’t There
But for me? I just need a hug from my dad. I don’t need a relationship, I don’t even need a lengthy conversation. All I need is a hug from him.
And really, having someone out there that thinks I am the greatest gift in this world and that I hung the moon and the stars wouldn’t be bad either, but that’s not going to happen.
I write this now because I’m struggling a lot. There have been so many times in the past month that I just feel so alone. And I’m not alone. I have an amazing husband and great kids and other family members who love me. But I’m my husband’s wife, not his child. I’m my children’s mom. And my aunt’s, uncles and grandma have their own children. Even though they love me endlessly, I’m not their first priority like I was with my own parents. Not having someone who picks up the phone day and night to talk you down is a huge loss. Not having someone to bring you medicine when you’re sick sucks. Being in the hospital without your parents next to you is horrible.
And my babies.
You Can’t Be Grandpa If You Aren’t There.
I have found myself starting to look at people with parents differently. Today I was looking at someone at work who has their mom in their life. I just kept thinking: “You don’t even know how lucky you are”. That person has unconditional love at their beck and call. Their #1 fan is a phone call away. I can’t call mine. And the one that I wish felt that way won’t answer the phone.
I’ll be okay, and I’ll get past this rough patch, I always do. But I needed to type this out because I knew it would release the negative energy that I’ve been holding. What I really debated though was sharing it. I considered typing it out and making it private. But what I realized is that often times when I write things, there are people out there that are similarly struggling and my writing makes them feel not so alone. Right now I feel very alone, and I don’t wish for anyone to be in this place. So I will be sharing it, because if it helps one person then it’s worth it.
And I’m also going to work on telling myself that I’m not disposable. Because that’s how I feel, and I know it’s not true. Many people have left me in the dust, but there are many more that want me around.
