I was driving home with Kameron after picking him up from school yesterday. I’ve mentioned our drives and time to talk or catch up on the way home in previous posts. Kameron isn’t much of a talker unless it’s something he wants to talk about. I’m finding this is typical of 13 year old boys in general.
It’s been a gloomy week. A week of memories from three years ago. My Dad being at home alive, and in an instant gone. Just gone. It’s still hard for me to think about. With the help of grief counseling I can talk about my Dad most of the time now without crying. Sometimes, Mr. D and I can recall something Dad said or did and we can laugh about it, but there is always a pause or a silence after the laugh. It’s still not comfortable for me. I’ve caught myself over the last couple of weeks picking up my phone a few times to call my Dad about something that I would normally call him about. Then I remind myself that he’s not going to answer, and I cry.
Saturday he will be gone for three years. I’ve had people tell me that as time passes it gets easier, that’s a lie. Just because you don’t see someone physically crying, doesn’t mean that they aren’t on the inside.
With my Dad on my mind, I wonder who else is thinking of him. I know my family is, in their own way. I’ve discovered through grief counseling that people grieve in very different ways, my family especially.
For some reason I was compelled to ask Kameron about “Pop” yesterday on our drive home. So I asked “Kam, do you ever think about Pop?” He thought about it for a second and said “not so much anymore.” I have to be honest, I was very angry. I don’t normally bring up subjects that would make Kameron uncomfortable. I thought that we had a connection with my Dad that would never go away, how could you possibly not think about Johnno?
Then I thought back to when my Dad lost his father. It was definitely a different situation. I don’t remember my grandfather even walking. I remember him in a hospital bed in the middle of the living room at my grandparents house. My grandfather never took me golfing, never took me shopping, never really paid attention to me actually. Although, I have heard stories from my older cousins of being spoiled by my grandfather, which doesn’t surprise me, he was a very kind, generous man. I wish I had better memories than a wheel chair and a hospital bed.
Back to Kameron and his passive answer about my dad. I don’t remember what age I was when my Dad’s father died, I’m thinking it’s pretty close to the same age that Kameron is now. I just remember being bored with the funeral arrangements and all the people that were coming to the house. People I have never met before, bringing food, plants, and cards. They were overcrowding our 650 square foot Norwaldo address and I remember being annoyed. Not being shy, I asked when all these people were going to leave. I remember as clear as day my Dad looking at me and saying “I lost my father god damnit.” I never knew how he felt, I never knew that pain. Until now.
I think of my father every day. I wish he was here for me to help me with Kameron growing up. Mr. D is a great father, I was just hoping for extra support. My Dad was everything to me. I miss him more than anyone could imagine. One thing I do know about my Dad is that he wouldn’t want me to be in pain anymore. Although, every day is a struggle without him. He would say “Damnit Baby, hasn’t this gone on long enough?”
So after I picked Kameron up from school today he asked why I had candles lit at home. I just said I thought it would be nice. He said “it’s because of Pop isn’t it?” I said “yes baby it is.”
He looked at me with his 13 year old eyes and said “I’m sorry mom.” Then he said that “we should keep the candles going for Pop.” I said I would.
The loss is indescribable, the pain you hide from everyone else is worse. It’s a silent hell that you trap yourself in. I wish I would have been able to make things different, I couldn’t.
I miss your hugs Johnno.