Yesterday was my oldest sons last day of Kindergarden. Very happy and very proud of him. He works hard. He is going to be a kid who needs to work their hardest to get good grades. I was one of those kids who did it naturally. I rarely studied or concentrated on school work but was able to manage A's and B's. Looking back, I wish I would have dedicated myself more. I think I would have probably gone further in school. Sometimes I am too hard on my son when it comes to school work which is so much different from when I was in kindergarden. He is in all day kindergarden and they are working on things I don't think I even touched until 1st, 2nd or 3rd grade. His report card says he needs to work on his reading and writing. He is going to a reading camp set up by the district at the end of the summer and we are setting up his old ABC Mouse profile again. We are also going to take weekly trips to the library and work at home.
We spent the weekend in NYC. It was my kids first time in the city and they loved it. We got a hotel room right on Times Square and went to the Lego Store, Nintendo World, M&M Store, Hershey Store and Disney Store. We also bought tickets to the Discovery Museum which had The Avengers Station. My oldest son was stoked. It's a tad pricey but it was perfect for his age group. We had a blast. We went out at night and walked around Times Square to see all the lights and got some food. They loved that as well.
We are going to an old school Drive In Movie Theatre this weekend for a Goonies and Gremlins double feature with another family we are friends with. Then on Saturday we are going to small zoo near us. Summer is shaping up to be somewhat entertaining.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Black Friday
I'm pretty sure that I've written about my father and our complicated relationship before but if this is the first time you are coming across this, you have no idea about it.
My mother and father divorced when I was very young. He was an abusive alcoholic. He got remarried shortly after the divorce, as did my mother. The first few years, I would see him a few times a year. He never or rarely paid child support. He did send a check for $40 to my mother every Easter for a few years so we could buy shoes. I wouldn't say we were poor but we certainly didn't have any money. I got a nintendo for Christmas, used from our next door neighbor because he got a Sega Genesis. We always had food but those things like going to the movies or new toys didn't exist. I don't say this complaining, just saying that his financial support would have gone a long way.
As the years went on, he was around less and less. He still was an abusive alcoholic. The whole dynamic of addiction over your children is something I've experienced but never understood. Then when I became a parent, it's something that hurts my head to the point of tears to think about. How does that shit happen?
From the age 10 to 18, I saw my father three times. He stopped over with his mother to say hi and drop off "gifts" in the middle of the summer. It was such a WEIRD experience. The gifts were clearly from the thrift store. My sister got a small box battery operated radio. I got a Jesus Is The Reason For The Season coffee mug. It's hilarious looking back on it. He, on my sisters request, to her 8th grade graduation. I was in 6th grade, so was 12. Thinking about this now, I felt so much younger than 12, probably because of what happened. I sat near him during the ceremony but didn't really talk. Then during the reception, I got this crazy idea in my head to ask him to come to my championship baseball game the next week. We had a great team that year. We were undefeated. He came to this thing for my sister, he would come to my baseball game. He loved baseball. I mustered up the courage to ask him. Here is how the conversation went:
"Hey Dad, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my championship baseball game next week?'
"What position do you play?"
"I play third base."
(Laugh) "You're too fat to play third base!" (Smacks my stomach)
Needless to say, I was crushed. I was really fucking good at baseball too. I got an award from the city as being the best 3rd baseman. I made the all star team three years in a row. Each time I was on went to the championship game. I generally batted around .400+. None of that stuff mattered. I just turned around and walked away. I went into the coat closet for the rest of the night and cried. I waited until I heard my mom yell for me to come out. We won the championship. I went 2 for 5 with three RBIs.
The last time I saw him was when I was 17. I was working at a local convenient store. I was working on the lottery machine when I heard a voice behind me say, "Can I get a pack of Camel's?" I said "Sure" and I turned around and there he was. I knew instantly. I hadn't seen him in 5 years and I looked nothing like I did when I was 12. He looked the same. I rang him up and he walked out. I called my coworker to the front and I went in the back room. I beat the shit out of the ice maker with my fists (the dents are still there last time I checked a few years ago) and cried. He didn't know who I was or at least he didn't pretend to. I found out a year or so ago that he knew who I was. He told my brother that he saw me. I don't know if that makes the memory better or worse.
Everything was quiet for a few years on that front. I was internally trying to deal with it all. Growing up without a father is very hard. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't done it but when you meet someone who went through it, there is this silent understanding. You can relate without a word. You know what it was like to not have that hand on your shoulder or that person to go to or laugh with. It's a big void that will always be there. It may get smaller over time but it's still a void that will never get filled.
When I was 24, he finally wanted to see me. He wanted my brother to set something up so we could see each other. My brother had a BBQ at his house over Memorial Day Weekend. Jesus, this was just about 10 years ago. My sister and brother both told me that if I didn't want to come, I could just stay away but I decided to go anyway. He was there when I showed up. We saw each other but didn't talk for another half hour or so. When we did, we both hugged and cried. We spent most of the time bullshitting with each other. He got drunk, which I hated. At the end of the night, I drove him to his favorite bar and left him there. Before he left, he handed me a wad of cash ($24) and told me that he loved me. I went to the movies that night and spent the money. Pretty sure I saw "The Day After Tomorrow" and that was that. I didn't hear from him for another few years. I met my wife in 2006 and got married in 2007 and we met him at my brothers a few days after I got married. I called him for the first time a few weeks later on Father's Day and he was drunk and started talking to me about government bullshit and I told him I had to go. That was it for the next four years or so.
Thanksgiving 2011, on the way home from my moms, my wife says she needed to talk to me and made me promise not to get mad. That's never good. My mom found out through my brother that my father had collapsed and needed to be resuscitated twice and spent the week in the hospital. This happened a few weeks before Thanksgiving. No one had told me. I was pissed. I sent a very angry email to my bother and oldest sister for not including me. They both apologized. My brother gave me his number. I woke up early the next morning and sat in my kitchen for about an hour before calling him. It was a weird conversation. To hear this man tell me that he almost died and he saw nothing and that he stopped drinking because if he didn't he would die was like a train hitting me. We both said I love you. The next few years were great. We saw each other on major holidays and he saw my kids. Christmas 2013 was the best. I sat across the room and watched him play with my oldest son. I didn't say anything, I just watched. It made me truly happy.
A few weeks before Thanksgiving last year (2014) my sister called me and told me that he had been back in the hospital because of stomach pain. He needed to get a colonoscopy done and a PET scan. He got the colonoscopy done but it couldn't be completed because there was a large lesion blocking the path it needed to go or something along that line. He needed to have surgery to remove the lesion. That was scheduled on Black Friday. He wouldn't be at my sisters for Thanksgiving dinner because he was going to be getting ready for the surgery. I called him and talked to him about it. I told him that we would visit a few days after the surgery. No one knew if he had cancer but we all feared the worse.
While we were driving to my moms for Thanksgiving, my sister called me to tell me that he was back in the hospital because of stomach pain and that he had to have emergency surgery done the next morning or that night. She asked me if I was going to visit. I told her that I didn't know. My brain was going crazy. We made it to my mom's and everyone knew and was talking about it. My brother had to talk me into going to see him and I still don't know why. I was lying to myself that it wasn't that big of a deal, I guess. We went over to see him that night. My oldest was talking to him about a new toy he got. My sister was on the verge of a break down. My brother was as well. My father was on pain killers but was with it. We talked about football and the kids. He told me that he loved me and the kids. We stayed for about an hour. Got all the information about when and where his surgery would be and I would be up the next afternoon to see him.
A record store in Delaware had a huge shipment of rare and out of print records coming in that morning and I wanted to go to check it out. I hadn't slept much the night before. Right before they opened, my sister calls me crying. My father had to be resuscitated twice that night and she was on the way to the hospital and she would call me when she got there. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me but I just stayed in the store. It felt secure and warm. I went in the store, grabbed some records that I wanted and went to the check out. While I was in line, my brother called me. I could tell he was crying and he just said "If you want to see him, you need to get here soon."
I paid for my records, ran to my car, called my wife and drove. I called my job to tell them I wouldn't be in that night and then it finally hit me and I lost it on the phone with my boss. I was crying so hard that I had to hang up. My wife called them and told them what was happening. I drove 90+ and made the two hour long trip in just over an hour. I tried to collect myself. My brother in law met me in the lobby. He hugged me and I broke down again. We walked to the elevator and went to the ICU. We walked past groups of people in waiting areas and they just saw a grown man crying his heart out. They could only assume to worse and feel some sense of their own mortality and empathy. We walked down the hallway and my sister met me halfway there and we hugged and cried on each other. We walked to the room and nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see.
My father was laying motionless. He had tubes coming out of everywhere. He eyes were open but glazed over. He was being kept alive by a breathing machine and blood pressure medicine. They were waiting for me. I walked over to him and fell on top on his head and cried harder than I ever have in my life. I held him face and whispered to him that I was there and that I loved him and that I forgave him. We all stayed with him for about another hour. My brother, two sisters and I were all holding onto him when he passed. I was holding onto his feet. After I left the hospital, we all made our way up to my sisters. My wife was there with my kids. I hugged and kissed them all. I didn't cry. We all went to my father's favorite bar and ate and drank (I had a coke) and talked.
The next few days were the hardest. My sister called me just about every day for a week and just cried. It was hard. One of the most profound moments over the next few day that I had was when I was sitting by myself in our dining room. I had a depressing song on and I lost it again. I broke down and I couldn't stop. My oldest son came over to me and he just rubbed my back and asked me if I was okay. I picked him up and held him while I cried. I don't know if it's a moment he will remember but one I will always hold with me. It's exactly what I needed.
The last few months, I have been living in this hidden depression. No one knows that it's going on but it's there and it hurts. I am filled with regrets at times thinking about what I could have done differently. I could have spent more time with him in his last years and not been so guarded and stupid. Other times, I am just filled with sadness that all I can do is cry. It is only when I am alone. It's happened more times than I would ever admit to while I am driving home from work or sitting up late by myself. Ive been slowly coming out of the fog. Some stuff has suffered, like friendships and social life because I don't really want to deal with any of that but my marriage and love for my kids have both gotten stronger.
This is the first time I've put this all down on "paper" before. It's probably the first time I've been able to.
My mother and father divorced when I was very young. He was an abusive alcoholic. He got remarried shortly after the divorce, as did my mother. The first few years, I would see him a few times a year. He never or rarely paid child support. He did send a check for $40 to my mother every Easter for a few years so we could buy shoes. I wouldn't say we were poor but we certainly didn't have any money. I got a nintendo for Christmas, used from our next door neighbor because he got a Sega Genesis. We always had food but those things like going to the movies or new toys didn't exist. I don't say this complaining, just saying that his financial support would have gone a long way.
As the years went on, he was around less and less. He still was an abusive alcoholic. The whole dynamic of addiction over your children is something I've experienced but never understood. Then when I became a parent, it's something that hurts my head to the point of tears to think about. How does that shit happen?
From the age 10 to 18, I saw my father three times. He stopped over with his mother to say hi and drop off "gifts" in the middle of the summer. It was such a WEIRD experience. The gifts were clearly from the thrift store. My sister got a small box battery operated radio. I got a Jesus Is The Reason For The Season coffee mug. It's hilarious looking back on it. He, on my sisters request, to her 8th grade graduation. I was in 6th grade, so was 12. Thinking about this now, I felt so much younger than 12, probably because of what happened. I sat near him during the ceremony but didn't really talk. Then during the reception, I got this crazy idea in my head to ask him to come to my championship baseball game the next week. We had a great team that year. We were undefeated. He came to this thing for my sister, he would come to my baseball game. He loved baseball. I mustered up the courage to ask him. Here is how the conversation went:
"Hey Dad, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my championship baseball game next week?'
"What position do you play?"
"I play third base."
(Laugh) "You're too fat to play third base!" (Smacks my stomach)
Needless to say, I was crushed. I was really fucking good at baseball too. I got an award from the city as being the best 3rd baseman. I made the all star team three years in a row. Each time I was on went to the championship game. I generally batted around .400+. None of that stuff mattered. I just turned around and walked away. I went into the coat closet for the rest of the night and cried. I waited until I heard my mom yell for me to come out. We won the championship. I went 2 for 5 with three RBIs.
The last time I saw him was when I was 17. I was working at a local convenient store. I was working on the lottery machine when I heard a voice behind me say, "Can I get a pack of Camel's?" I said "Sure" and I turned around and there he was. I knew instantly. I hadn't seen him in 5 years and I looked nothing like I did when I was 12. He looked the same. I rang him up and he walked out. I called my coworker to the front and I went in the back room. I beat the shit out of the ice maker with my fists (the dents are still there last time I checked a few years ago) and cried. He didn't know who I was or at least he didn't pretend to. I found out a year or so ago that he knew who I was. He told my brother that he saw me. I don't know if that makes the memory better or worse.
Everything was quiet for a few years on that front. I was internally trying to deal with it all. Growing up without a father is very hard. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't done it but when you meet someone who went through it, there is this silent understanding. You can relate without a word. You know what it was like to not have that hand on your shoulder or that person to go to or laugh with. It's a big void that will always be there. It may get smaller over time but it's still a void that will never get filled.
When I was 24, he finally wanted to see me. He wanted my brother to set something up so we could see each other. My brother had a BBQ at his house over Memorial Day Weekend. Jesus, this was just about 10 years ago. My sister and brother both told me that if I didn't want to come, I could just stay away but I decided to go anyway. He was there when I showed up. We saw each other but didn't talk for another half hour or so. When we did, we both hugged and cried. We spent most of the time bullshitting with each other. He got drunk, which I hated. At the end of the night, I drove him to his favorite bar and left him there. Before he left, he handed me a wad of cash ($24) and told me that he loved me. I went to the movies that night and spent the money. Pretty sure I saw "The Day After Tomorrow" and that was that. I didn't hear from him for another few years. I met my wife in 2006 and got married in 2007 and we met him at my brothers a few days after I got married. I called him for the first time a few weeks later on Father's Day and he was drunk and started talking to me about government bullshit and I told him I had to go. That was it for the next four years or so.
Thanksgiving 2011, on the way home from my moms, my wife says she needed to talk to me and made me promise not to get mad. That's never good. My mom found out through my brother that my father had collapsed and needed to be resuscitated twice and spent the week in the hospital. This happened a few weeks before Thanksgiving. No one had told me. I was pissed. I sent a very angry email to my bother and oldest sister for not including me. They both apologized. My brother gave me his number. I woke up early the next morning and sat in my kitchen for about an hour before calling him. It was a weird conversation. To hear this man tell me that he almost died and he saw nothing and that he stopped drinking because if he didn't he would die was like a train hitting me. We both said I love you. The next few years were great. We saw each other on major holidays and he saw my kids. Christmas 2013 was the best. I sat across the room and watched him play with my oldest son. I didn't say anything, I just watched. It made me truly happy.
A few weeks before Thanksgiving last year (2014) my sister called me and told me that he had been back in the hospital because of stomach pain. He needed to get a colonoscopy done and a PET scan. He got the colonoscopy done but it couldn't be completed because there was a large lesion blocking the path it needed to go or something along that line. He needed to have surgery to remove the lesion. That was scheduled on Black Friday. He wouldn't be at my sisters for Thanksgiving dinner because he was going to be getting ready for the surgery. I called him and talked to him about it. I told him that we would visit a few days after the surgery. No one knew if he had cancer but we all feared the worse.
While we were driving to my moms for Thanksgiving, my sister called me to tell me that he was back in the hospital because of stomach pain and that he had to have emergency surgery done the next morning or that night. She asked me if I was going to visit. I told her that I didn't know. My brain was going crazy. We made it to my mom's and everyone knew and was talking about it. My brother had to talk me into going to see him and I still don't know why. I was lying to myself that it wasn't that big of a deal, I guess. We went over to see him that night. My oldest was talking to him about a new toy he got. My sister was on the verge of a break down. My brother was as well. My father was on pain killers but was with it. We talked about football and the kids. He told me that he loved me and the kids. We stayed for about an hour. Got all the information about when and where his surgery would be and I would be up the next afternoon to see him.
A record store in Delaware had a huge shipment of rare and out of print records coming in that morning and I wanted to go to check it out. I hadn't slept much the night before. Right before they opened, my sister calls me crying. My father had to be resuscitated twice that night and she was on the way to the hospital and she would call me when she got there. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me but I just stayed in the store. It felt secure and warm. I went in the store, grabbed some records that I wanted and went to the check out. While I was in line, my brother called me. I could tell he was crying and he just said "If you want to see him, you need to get here soon."
I paid for my records, ran to my car, called my wife and drove. I called my job to tell them I wouldn't be in that night and then it finally hit me and I lost it on the phone with my boss. I was crying so hard that I had to hang up. My wife called them and told them what was happening. I drove 90+ and made the two hour long trip in just over an hour. I tried to collect myself. My brother in law met me in the lobby. He hugged me and I broke down again. We walked to the elevator and went to the ICU. We walked past groups of people in waiting areas and they just saw a grown man crying his heart out. They could only assume to worse and feel some sense of their own mortality and empathy. We walked down the hallway and my sister met me halfway there and we hugged and cried on each other. We walked to the room and nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see.
My father was laying motionless. He had tubes coming out of everywhere. He eyes were open but glazed over. He was being kept alive by a breathing machine and blood pressure medicine. They were waiting for me. I walked over to him and fell on top on his head and cried harder than I ever have in my life. I held him face and whispered to him that I was there and that I loved him and that I forgave him. We all stayed with him for about another hour. My brother, two sisters and I were all holding onto him when he passed. I was holding onto his feet. After I left the hospital, we all made our way up to my sisters. My wife was there with my kids. I hugged and kissed them all. I didn't cry. We all went to my father's favorite bar and ate and drank (I had a coke) and talked.
The next few days were the hardest. My sister called me just about every day for a week and just cried. It was hard. One of the most profound moments over the next few day that I had was when I was sitting by myself in our dining room. I had a depressing song on and I lost it again. I broke down and I couldn't stop. My oldest son came over to me and he just rubbed my back and asked me if I was okay. I picked him up and held him while I cried. I don't know if it's a moment he will remember but one I will always hold with me. It's exactly what I needed.
The last few months, I have been living in this hidden depression. No one knows that it's going on but it's there and it hurts. I am filled with regrets at times thinking about what I could have done differently. I could have spent more time with him in his last years and not been so guarded and stupid. Other times, I am just filled with sadness that all I can do is cry. It is only when I am alone. It's happened more times than I would ever admit to while I am driving home from work or sitting up late by myself. Ive been slowly coming out of the fog. Some stuff has suffered, like friendships and social life because I don't really want to deal with any of that but my marriage and love for my kids have both gotten stronger.
This is the first time I've put this all down on "paper" before. It's probably the first time I've been able to.
It's almost been a year
I know no one reads this so it doesn't really matter that I've been gone for a year. It's been a long and hard year with some ups a shit ton of downs.
I got a part time job which is okay. I work two over nights a week. It's a good job, I get paid a "decent" amount for a part timer, it just fucks with my sleep schedule for the rest of the week, which has never been all that great. It got my wife off my back about money and contributing. I do get out of the house a little and I do feel like I am adding something to my families well being.
Our youngest son has been seeing specialists for almost a year now to help with his speech. He sees a occupational therapist every week. He sees a speech therapist and a behavioral therapist every other week. It has helped A LOT. He went from not being able to say anything past his second birthday to almost being ready to join a preschool. He will hopefully have less than a 20% delay, we are still waiting on his latest tests to come back. Now we are looking for a preschool. We have been looking for months now and we have either been turned away or put on a waiting list. He is being registered as "special needs" so the waiting lists have been next to impossible to get on. This whole process has given me more respect for parents with children with special needs. My son isn't even close to what most parents with special needs kids have to deal with and some days it's so hard to deal with, I can't image what you have to go through.
Our oldest son just turned 6. I don't want to go into one of those "it goes so fast" speeches but it does. I really couldn't ask for a better kid. He started Tball this year and he is the best player on him team. He loves it and so do it. I love playing catch with him. Seriously, the best thing in the world. I think the only thing that really concerns me about his future is his need for acceptance. He tries all he can to fit in with others to the point where he won't be himself at times to fit in. Each time I've caught him doing it, I've talked to him about it. It's not the easiest thing to have that conversation with a 5 year old. Maybe it's just something kids do.
We moved again. This time, it was just next door to a much nicer house but we get to stay in the same neighborhood and school district so it was a no brainer for us. Our new neighbors, who moved into our old house, kind of suck. They are sort of loud and nosey. We are very quiet and private. They do have two boys, six and nine. The nine year old is very nice and sweet to our youngest kid. The six year old is kind of an asshole. Maybe it has something to do with being the youngest, I don't know. My oldest does enjoy playing with them so it does get him out of the house more and keeps him active.
My marriage is going pretty well.
The worst and hardest thing I've had to go through this year was the death of my father...
I got a part time job which is okay. I work two over nights a week. It's a good job, I get paid a "decent" amount for a part timer, it just fucks with my sleep schedule for the rest of the week, which has never been all that great. It got my wife off my back about money and contributing. I do get out of the house a little and I do feel like I am adding something to my families well being.
Our youngest son has been seeing specialists for almost a year now to help with his speech. He sees a occupational therapist every week. He sees a speech therapist and a behavioral therapist every other week. It has helped A LOT. He went from not being able to say anything past his second birthday to almost being ready to join a preschool. He will hopefully have less than a 20% delay, we are still waiting on his latest tests to come back. Now we are looking for a preschool. We have been looking for months now and we have either been turned away or put on a waiting list. He is being registered as "special needs" so the waiting lists have been next to impossible to get on. This whole process has given me more respect for parents with children with special needs. My son isn't even close to what most parents with special needs kids have to deal with and some days it's so hard to deal with, I can't image what you have to go through.
Our oldest son just turned 6. I don't want to go into one of those "it goes so fast" speeches but it does. I really couldn't ask for a better kid. He started Tball this year and he is the best player on him team. He loves it and so do it. I love playing catch with him. Seriously, the best thing in the world. I think the only thing that really concerns me about his future is his need for acceptance. He tries all he can to fit in with others to the point where he won't be himself at times to fit in. Each time I've caught him doing it, I've talked to him about it. It's not the easiest thing to have that conversation with a 5 year old. Maybe it's just something kids do.
We moved again. This time, it was just next door to a much nicer house but we get to stay in the same neighborhood and school district so it was a no brainer for us. Our new neighbors, who moved into our old house, kind of suck. They are sort of loud and nosey. We are very quiet and private. They do have two boys, six and nine. The nine year old is very nice and sweet to our youngest kid. The six year old is kind of an asshole. Maybe it has something to do with being the youngest, I don't know. My oldest does enjoy playing with them so it does get him out of the house more and keeps him active.
My marriage is going pretty well.
The worst and hardest thing I've had to go through this year was the death of my father...
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