That's how long it's been since my father died. It didn't dawn on me until just a few moments ago when I was looking at the calendar. Life passes by so fast. It is hard to stop some times and just be. If your father is still alive, call him, TODAY, chat with him, tell him you love him and that you are thankful for the time you have with him. I didn't do this as often as I should have. I should have done a lot of things in my life but I didn't and there is no room for regrets. I felt guilty for a while after my father's death. Guilty that I made our visits a tit for tat kind of thing. Guilty that I didn't call once a week like he asked me to do to speak to my mom (though I really think he wanted to talk to me.) I wish he had called me more. Just to talk. Most folks know, and this included my father, I am not a phone person. I am one that only likes to talk when we are face to face or online. I always feel like I don't have much to say. I am a quiet person really, with a big mouth. But my father always said before we hung up, "You should call once a week. Just to check on us." I always thought that odd as they were very capable of checking on themselves. But, I didn't. I called when I thought of it. Which usually ran 2 to 3 weeks. I tried every other week. I even tried once a week, but when you have kids and there isn't a quiet moment... there really isn't time for a phone call. And you know that once you pick up that phone, the child suddenly has SOOO much to say to you. When right before you picked up the phone you tried to have a conversation and they would just shurg and say nothing. But if you want your kid to talk to you, pretend to call someone. . . works like a charm!
A month, 4 days. . . seems like yesterday I got that dreaded phone call. The first thing that crossed my mind when this woman calls me to tell me my father was rushed to the ER was, what hospital, I am on my way. . . but then, "he died." I had so much trouble wrapping my head around those two simple words. . . he died. My father thought he had a few more years. He told me 5 the last time we spoke, I said at least 10 and that he had to see the kids graduate from HS first. He died. . . I never understood loss until those two words. WHen you haven't lost a parent, those words don't really have much meaning. Yes we loose friends, we have grandparents that die, maybe you have a pet. There are a few that have lost family. But when it's a parent or a child for that matter, those words are the worst words you can ever hear. He died. That is beyond painful. My father, the one person in my family that I didn't mind talking to, the one person that I went to if I had issues with money or kids or even my kids schooling. He was the one I got that advice from. And he died. Now my own mother is treatin gme like the plague. I am supposed to go visit her? She doesn't even speak to me on the phone. When I call the response is short, to the point and then over. She tells my kids to shut up, which I really don't like, and then she gets a lawyer to fight for money that I don't have. . . that's a whole different blog. . .actually, it should stay private. . . All I know is I feel like an orphan. And that feeling is far worse than the feeling of, he died.
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