pain & loss

On January 15th 2019, I got the call know one wants to hear it was my godfather. He was calling to let me know that my dad, his best friend had passed away. I had a strained relationship with my dad, he had cheated on my mom since I was 7 and although mom knew this, dad didn't leave until I was 16. It wasn't until I was 22 when my parents divorced and it was then my dad removed himself from my life. I never understood why he'd done what he'd done but I never gave up hope he'd pop back up. I'd gotten married and he didn't show, I had children who never knew their grandpa. I tried my best over the years to never speak negatively about him, I didn't know if I would ever see him again so I didn't want to tarnish that relationship any possible relationship my kids could have with him.

Turns out, I wouldn't see him again until his funeral.

I have a brother, my brother and I didn't share the same father but when mine passed I reached out to him. He posted on his Facebook for prayers for his sister whose dad had passed away. I went through a lot in the week leading up to my dads burial. I all of this on my own, I said goodbye, I met his family until that moment I hadn't met any of them before except the woman he'd married after my parents divorced. She told me that she'd known me since I was 7 and then I realized who she was.

I listened to 3 men tell me that I was their little sister, 3 men who introduced me to their friends as their baby sister. I sat immobile a lot of the time in their presence unable to make sense of what was going on. You see at that moment I found out that I was in fact my dad's only biological child. That these 3 men were his stepsons, you see my step mother had 5 kids and then she met my dad, I'm sure you can understand what happened then.

People who introduced themselves to me as their respective titles, aunts uncles, cousins, etc and I didn't know them. People handed me photo albums and I looked at the face of my father within each shot and my heart broke every turn of a page. Here he was doing things with these people, her children and what would be their grandchildren. Yet I was no where in any photo nor were my children, by some grace of God I held it together. Not for them but for me as I didn't want them to see how distraught I was, I'd save that for the ride home.

It wasn't until the viewing, right before they'd take him to the cemetery when the real people began to show themselves. They told stories of their dad and how their dad did all these things and how he was there when milestones happened and how he loved being a grandfather and I watched as each of them looked at me and pointed me out and rubbed it in a little bit more. When people turned to see me their questioning gazes lay upon me as if wondering who I was and where I had been.

A lot of them didn't know I existed and yet I was the only true biological member of his life there.

My stepmother pulled me aside and handed me this homemade Christmas card I had made for my dad when I was 5. She said it was in his things they went through, she said he loved me. She was sorry he didn't try harder but he felt that I had sided with my mom and everything came to a halt because of money. My dad hadn't shown up to my wedding because my mom told him I said he had to pay for my wedding and his whore couldn't come. Sadly, I believed she did say it.

After my father was laid to rest, I left to go on about my life and hadn't heard from any of them.

That night after I cried on the way home for the father I hardly knew and the grandfather my children didn't, I received a call from my brother who proceeded to cuss me out for 45 minutes. Normally I would have returned the favor and hung up but I was beyond devastated. I had told him before that I wouldn't be letting our mom know that he had passed as even after all these years she'd never gotten over him. That was when he started telling me how horrible my father was and how he beat him, how he abused him and was evil. In all my years I hadn't ever heard any of the sort from him or my mom and I was angry, why couldn't he let me be in peace.

So I did what any other person would do, the next morning I went to our mom with him on the phone and I proceeded to ask her these questions and she in her own way just said none of it happened that it was her that had done those things to him. He said she was a liar, covering up for him and he hung up. When my mom questioned me why I was asking I explained what had transpired with my brother and she kept going on and on and started getting verbally abusive.

It was in that moment I lost it and told her that my dad had died and as soon as the words left my mouth I saw the light and her eyes die out.

I felt horrible, I still do. I regret every single day that I let that slip. She could have gone the rest of her life no knowing but I was just so hurt.

After that day things changed with my mom.

My mom was never nice to me, I look back at my childhood and don't know how I survived it. My brother was the golden child, he had everything, his room was packed with electronics and games while I had nothing. I remember Christmases when I didn't get anything but my brother had video games my mom said were for the family. My grandmother had to take me to get school clothes because my mom was too busy. One day in front of my son she told me I limited her life, if I hadn't of been born she would have gone on to do great things.

She had my brother at 15, I came along in her 20's when she was married to my dad but I limited her life.

My mom had her first heart attack in 2006, I was there to take care of her. Every doctors appointment she reared her attitude giving me the finger when I would tell her cardiologist she wasn't taking care of herself. My mom went on to have 2 more heart attacks one she had while she was in the car with me. In 2009, she had an injury at work and was left permanently disabled after a filing cabinet fell on her. I put my life on hold to take care of her. I'd watch her during the day, work at night when my son was home from school and watch over her. She had 2 more heart attacks after this time.

By February 2019, mom was being my mom. It was almost my birthday and she began to reminisce about the day I was born. My dad went fishing on an unseasonably Saturday in February and wasn't there when my mom went into labor. You see it was my godfather who sprang into action got her to the hospital and was there when I was born.

The moment he looked at me he nicknamed me Pebbles. Yes, like the cartoon character. Pebbles was born on February 22nd, I the 23rd. Years apart but it was just his way of connecting things.

My godfather called me checking in, I'd vent about mom and he would just say that she's grieving too and things will get back to normal.

March and April passed, mom hadn't let up. At this time she was doing dangerous things. She had an oxygen machine for her COPD and she'd be wearing it while cooking herself dinner. When I explained open flame and oxygen is a no-no she threw me out of her house. I eventually had to move her in with me as I was worried she'd endanger herself.

May came, her birthday she was herself again then my brothers birthday who she praised as being her only good kid. He didn't even call her, nor did he reach out on Mothers Day. A few weeks later she was having issues breathing, I took her to the hospital and they admitted her. It was bad this time, she apologized to me for not taking care of herself the way I had wanted. She was there a week and a half when I got a call from an administrator at an elderly care facility. They had informed me that she had the doctor check herself into the facility and I needed to come down and provide information for her.

Of course I was confused.

When I finally got to see my mom I asked her what was going on, she said she wanted to be there because since she was such of a problem she didn't want to bother me. The doctor explained she would be getting treatment for the COPD and she would be more comfortable and that she'd be home in a week.

A week later on June 24th 2019, I got a call she was at the hospital again and I went down. They led me down a hall past the emergency room doors and I stopped and asked for my mom. The lady just kept ushering me along and I knew, I just knew.

When the doctor came in he sat me down and apologized and informed me that my Mom had passed away.

I called my brother straight away and told him that mom had passed away and he said "this couldn't have come at a worse time, I just started a new job."

Here I was again, alone. I had to identify my mom's body on 3 separate occasions. I had to get my brothers permission to have her cremated, he signed a paper and they faxed it to the funeral home. I picked my moms ashes up from the funeral home and carried her around because it was so hot and I was in the midst of having a nervous breakdown.

My daughter said to me one night that she was happy her Nana was at peace now but she wasn't very nice to you. Realization hit that my children saw first hand how badly my mom had treated me.

I had to handle her house and personal belongings alone.

I went back to work the first week of July, my godfather called me to let me know he was with me in spirit and asked me to call him when I got off work.

That night he told me that he had cancer but he was fighting it.

I knew there was a reason why he hadn't made it to dads funeral or come up after my mom passed. He couldn't because the cancer had kept him from being able to travel.

on July 15th, my godfather passed away.

out of all of the deaths I had experienced his hit the worst and is the the one that decimated what was left of my already broken heart.

My godfather was beloved, he was the gym teacher and softball coach at the high school I attended. I hadn't gone public because I was continuing to mourn the man who was all I had left when I was flooded with messages saying they'd seen a post and apologized for the passing of my godfather.

From the lovely messages I received came the snarky comments telling me when was I going to continue to mourn this, telling me I needed to get over it. Letting me know all it would take would be some medication and it would go away.

People who didn't understand how it felt to wake up one day and have your family gone. My dad passed and it hurt, my mom passed and I felt like an orphan. When my godfather passed I felt like my world collapsed in on itself because for all intents and purposes he was my dad. He was there when mine wasn't and even though he tried his hardest to make sure my dad knew I needed him he never let me feel like I was without.

Shortly after he passed away I had hit my lowest point, that day I had decided that I'd rather be with them then here by myself. Something intervened, it was as if an angel was sent and I bumped into them on the stairs to my car. It was a co-worker who worked in a different area who took one look at me and knew I needed help. We sat and talked and I unloaded all of the heavy stuff and they took it and told me that they understood and told me that if something were to happen to me my loss to others would leave a greater impact and could I do that to my children or to my friends.

I couldn't.

When I left that day, I reached out and got help with a therapist who helped me work out those issues. I am a great believer in therapy.

It's been 3 years and it still makes me cry the same way it did when it happened. I still need to take the time off, I still need to mourn in my own way. I still need to wear my moms wedding rings so I can feel close to the both of them and I still get the comments from others asking me when I'll get over it.

I don't think I'll be able to any time soon.

When our mom died my brother posted one sentence about our mom on Facebook, when his cat passed he went into a three paragraph diatribe complete with photographs. Our moms birthday is May 4th, and he posts May the Fourth be with you posts for her birthday. He constantly posts memes about loving someone in Heaven. He garners sympathy with every post, I've never seen an ounce of criticism given to him.

Yet, it's been 3 years and I haven't seen my brother in 5 years and he lives in the same state I do, he never said goodbye to our mother.

I got to spend a good hour and a half talking to my mom before she was cremated. I forgave her for everything that happened, I asked her to look after her grandchildren and make sure they're safe. I also asked her to haunt her son and I'm sorry but I have zero regrets for that.