My father was an alcoholic. We did not have a close relationship while I was growing up. I did not know him personally nor what he went through as a child to make him unhappy, drink so much and angry at many times. I don't remember quality time spent with him. Whenever family was together he was drinking, drinking to get drunk and most of the time, pass out. I have so many memories of being in the car with him intoxicated and driving head on to another car because he was in the wrong lane... very young I witnessed him on many lawns fist fighting with family members and friends who were trying to keep his keys, plates full of food were thrown across the room, fights between him and my mom as she was tiring of the drinking, being so full of rage that he would enter my bedroom and tip my dressers over, he threw my tv, broke everything he could get his hands on... and the next morning not remember a thing.
He did have a great side to him. He was adventurous... he loved being outside, loved camping and exploring. But, alcohol was always involved. It's such a shame alcohol and drugs were a big part of his life. I can't help but wonder what my childhood and life would have been like if he didn't drink and was more involved with his kids.
We never talked about anything important. He knew nothing about me, about my love for art or my desire to become a graphic artist. He kicked me out of my house at 17 and threw everything I owned onto our front lawn. I drove to my house with a friend and saw my entire bedroom thrown outside.
I lost every piece of my childhood on the lawn that day as I had no where to go, no place to put my things and in anger at him I turned around and left, left everything I owned there. We didn't talk to each other very often after that. When we did get together, there was no love and only shallow conversation as it had been my entire childhood. I can honestly say I hated my father. I hated him my entire childhood. What kind of man turns into a father that makes his children fear him.
When I found out my son was going to die. I called my dad. I broke down and cried out to him. He was deeply and sincerely concerned. I heard love and compassion in his voice that I had never heard before. From that point on he went to every doctor appt I had. He sat in during the last ultrasound and he pleaded with the doctor to do something to help Christian. He knew how frightened I was and he was trying to fix it. For the first time I felt like my dad cared and he was trying to protect me.
He called me everyday to ask how things were going and how I was holding up.
I called him the morning I was in labor and heading to the hospital. He didn't go to work, instead he came to be with me. He didn't make it in time to see Christian alive, but he did see him... mom said he just stared at him and tears developed in his eyes. He then sat with me and mom for quite a while. I think seeing Christian and how emotionally devastated Andy and I were, touched a part deep inside him.
After we lost Christian my dad called almost daily and came to my house every Friday and brought donuts. He sat with me and had coffee and we talked. We talked about all kinds of different topics. It felt strange to have conversation with him, but we were becoming friends. He continued to come for several months on what we called "donut fridays" and my boys started calling him "Grandpa donut".
One day, on his visit, he told me that he had pancreatic cancer. I could not believe what I was hearing. He said that it was pretty bad and not looking hopeful. Each Friday he continued to come, but started to bring me items he wanted me to have. This was NOT what I wanted. I didn't want his "stuff"! I wanted the dad I was beginning to know. The last time he came to visit, he told me that the chemo had made his cancer spread and they only gave six weeks to live. I couldn't believe again what I was hearing. He told me "if you cry I will not come back" that was a typical him comment.
My dad died six months after my son died. I finally had the dad I wanted my entire life and now he was gone too. His funeral was so hard for me. Nobody will understand. He had became my friend and I wasn't ready to let him go.
If I didn't lose Christian, my dad and I would have never been close. My dad would have died of cancer with me still being distant and angry with him. Sometimes things happen for a reason. I don't believe that Christian's fate was to bring my father and I together. But, if it didn't happen, I would have never had the time I had with my dad. We became friends and I loved the person he was at that moment. I miss him and I miss our conversations on donut fridays.
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