CharmingBitch

The One About My Dad.

Sorry my sugah butts I am not even going to try and explain this or make it make sense. Just gotta get this off my heart before it renders me without breath. Uuuuh-gain. Some more.

You know, it is one thing to lose a child. No matter when it happens, how it happens, if you orchestrate the last day by stopping treatment, there is never enough time to say everything you want, to spend the time you need and to kiss kiss kiss their little defenseless heads enough. There is no enough, there is no too much, there is no fulfillment, satiation is not possible.

My son, my Jackson, was taken from me literally within minutes of being born. I didn't get to hold him, I barely got to see him before he was whisked away. Then he was stolen, oh you're damn right, stolen from me and taken to an altogether different hospital while I was unable to move with him. Finally, I was able to go to him, then to another hospital. But still no touching, no holding, no loving. Just suits and tubes and wires and glass between us. I never got to hold him skin to skin until the last day. Oh my heart, just typing that sentence burns me, flames lick at my skin, my arms ache and my stomach burns. Oh my little man, my baby, I am so sorry. You needed love and touch and kindness all those days, not solitary confinement from the people who love you so, so much.

And that is the distinction. I could keep writing about my love, my baby but it's all summed up completely by just saying, it was never enough. It could never be enough. I hear him everyday, I talk to him everyday, I hear him cry in my dreams, he will always be here because it will never be enough, the bleeding ebbs but is never staunched.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

Things that need to stop right now, no seriously, I need this shit to quit like yesterday:

1. Cancer doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. I mean, yes, in some very limited circumstance pulling the cancer card is both needed and effective. Balling up inside yourself and deciding everyone else can cater to you or fuck off, no. Not how the big wide world works, champs. These are the things you learn when surrounded by people with The Cancer. Accept it and get on with getting on or lay down and die. Just don't get your stank vibes on me in the process.
2. So. My dad is buried in a National cemetery. Meaning, they have rules and standards and everything pretty much has to be the same. Not identical, no but the headstone size is limited as are the characters on said headstone or grave marker. Limited to 25 spaces we chose ''Beloved Husband Dad and Papa'' because, you see, logic would dictate that in order to be any of those things, he was first a son. Right? Right. Unless you are my dad's mom and feel the need to get butt-hurt because ''son'' wasn't specifically listed. Just a note: I DO NOT CARE ONE BIT ABOUT ANYONE'S BUTTHURTEDNESS REGARDING MY DAD'S OBIT, HEADSTONE, CASKET, SERVICES OR MANNER OF DEATH.
3. I have lost a son. Not a 62 year old son who had created his own life, career and family outside his family of origin. I lost an infant son and therefore I cannot compare the two situations in any real way except to say: Mourn him, grieve the loss and honor his memory and STOP SHITTING ON HIS FAMILY NOW THAT HE ISN'T HERE TO REFEREE THE BULLSHIT.
4. And another thing, I had never had chance to write an obituary for my dad before he actually, you know, died. I didn't look up etiquette books or skim current death notices to ''learn'' how to do it properly, apparently. I listed my mom, my sister and I, all the grandkids and then his mom, sisters, brothers and others. Fair enough, I thought. Noooooooooooooooooooo, his mom is AGAIN super extra butt-hurt that she, as his mother, wasn't listed first.
5. Wait a minute, you lost your oldest son, the cream of the crop, the absolute prize pig, pick of the litter (nah, I'm not biased, he honestly was the favorite kid, favorite son, favorite grandkid, favorite cousin, nephew, uncle, TRUE FACT) and you're upset about where you landed in HIS OBITUARY. Go fuck yourself. No, really. Twice on Sunday because I have no time for such foolishness.
6. Again, I have seriously and honestly tried to keep in mind that people mourn differently, people act out in ways not normal to their usual ways when faced with seemingly insurmountable grieving. I get that, I really do but no, this isn't acceptable to lash out about to me or anyone else, it really, really is not.
7. This same person, my dad's mom, believes I am a terrible, awful person for having custody of my sister's kids. Because my sister isn't cracked out of her mind and her husband isn't a substance abusing alcoholic. Nah, they just had a, ''little problem'' that I ''over-reacted'' to and convinced D to ''go along with'' for my own personal benefit.
8. I just, ....really? Re: #7. I cannot wrap my head around it. At all. And am so done defending myself and really, my sister's actions. Talk to her about it if you think I am so foul. Oooooooh, right. You can't. Because she is too busy out getting cracked to talk to you. Right. Right. I totally over-stepped.
9. Just as an aside, tied to nothing, Trader Joe's isn't some bougie, boutique high priced grocery store. Granted, I could never do all my shopping there but their prices, particularly on their store brand, are crazy reasonable. D spent $200 there one time when we first moved to Vancouver and I was shocked; I can drop $200 in a regular grocery easily and not blink, even when it was just D and I but to spend that much in TJ's you have to be determined like a mofo. Anyway, have seen too many references to it being on par with Whole Foods lately and I assure you I would never spend a single dollar in WF but I loved having TJ's as an option when we were in the NW and I have to wonder if the people making the comparison to WF have ever stepped foot in TJ's. Mmmm their frozen enchiladas still make my mouth water.
10. Look, I get the need for physical therapy given how long I have been in the hospital and how long I will likely remain but mother fuck me, physical therapy plus chemotherapy seems a bit, no a lot, cruel. I am exhausted every single day but I know just by virtue of the piss and vinegar I am now feeling full of that I am getting better but DAMN, a bitch needs a day off once in a while, you know? Am whining, I know but if I blame it on the cancer, all is forgiven, right (see #1, heh).

Thanks for listening you beautiful people. Off to more physical therapy. Gaaaaaaaah.

Things easier to write than to say

My husband:

1. Loves me and our children with his whole heart. Unconditionally.
2. Takes excellent care of himself in order to take excellent care of his family.
3. Is in awesome shape, meaning it is awesome to rub up on his shape.
4. He is a much better cook than me but only rarely reminds me of this fact.
5. When I had hair, D loved to brush it. Now without hair, he rubs my head with lotion.
6. He has never once complained about how hard my illness has been on him.
7. And lord, it has been hella hard on him. A sick wife and four kids is a big load to carry on a good day. These days it's really unfathomable.
8. When we had to make decisions about Jackson's care and eventually stopping treatment it was a heavy load but one we carried together. That man, alone, had to make almost split second decisions about my health without a team-mate minus a partner.
9. When I think about the responsibility I put on his shoulders I cringe for him. Not for me because I was in the best hands.
10. I could never find another man who would praise my ''leadership'' instead of calling me a sometimes strident, impossible to please harridan. Because sometimes, I am just that exactly. Silver lining, he seeks it, obviously.
11. The kids all and I do mean all prefer D over me. And as I know I am pretty dang good to them, that says a lot about him. He is a freaking fantastic father.
12. He treats our girls like precious jewels and showers them with affection.
13. He treats our boys like precious jewels and showers them with affection.
14. Although both of our girls are (not even kidding folks) beautiful to a ridiculous degree he praises their intelligence first, always. They both finished the year on honor roll.
15. When I was sobbing about my hot mess of a snatch, D just said it's okay, it will be fine. I didn't marry you for your hair, I didn't marry you for your pussy fancy place.
16. I stopped sobbing and started counting my blessings, literally.
17. He mourned my dad not just as a father in law but as a friend. Those two were tight and it is comforting to share my grief, as with Jackson, with someone who gets what a loss my dad was not just to his family but to everyone who knew him.
18. D has made certain that I and more importantly the kids know that if anything were to happen to me, now in the immediate future or ever, they will stay with him.
19. If you read number 18 and didn't at least tear up, read it again. That is a man right there, in every sense of the word.
20. I love love love you, D. But the dog stays, she's part of the package!