Hurting too much
My own story may seem quite strange but I need to tell it all. I was seven years old when I discovered that the man who I called Grandad was in actual fact my Father!
It was covered up by the family, all of his daughters including My Mother who was his Step-Daughter, never said a word when he would go to them at night, even when they were in the late teens and early 20's. My Mum was 22 when she fell pregnant by him. By 1988 the whole thing had come out and he was jailed for 4 years. I seen him once while he was in Jail and I will never forget running to him in the visitors room and him passing me sweets under the table.
See, I know it must sound strange but despite all that had happened I loved him. My Grandmother divorced him yet she kept visiting him in prison and in 1994 they got a flat together. For reasons unknown to me I never seen him again throughout his prison sentence and it was hushed up when he started to live with my Grandmother again.
One day in 1995 I was at my Grandmothers flat and well there he was, I couldn't believe it, it felt so damn good to see him again after all that time. He made me laugh like he had always done when I was little and there was no hostility from my Mother or anything.
By then I was 12 and I had a fair idea of what he had done in the past but never at any time did I feel scared. I was totally safe with him and I knew he would never have touched me. My safety around him was a Non-Issue.
I adored him still and I always will. He was so kind, funny and generous and so helpful if something was wrong he could make it right he could make worries disappear or at the least really make you rationalise something and make you know that it would all turn out okay in the end.
At the age of 45 he had an aggressive tumour removed from his left lung along with half of that lung, he survived that. Later he was diagnosed with Angina and was prescribed medication, he had a small heart attack and a slight stroke back in 2003 he survived those too. He'd even had Pneumonia twice whilst he served in the Army.
This past year he'd had a lot of chest infections but he had respiratory problems anyway so chest infections were nothing unusual and he got through them pretty well.
Last week on Saturday April 16, 2011 he was at home in the Kitchen when he collapsed - my Gran called an ambulance they tried to restart his heart after about 45 minutes they took him to Hospital myself and my Mother were taken in the Response Car, when we got there he was in "Resuss" we were taken to a relatives room, about 25 minutes later a Doctor and a Nurse came in to deliver the news that despite all efforts, drugs, adrenaline, shocks, cpr etc etc they could not revive my Dad. He was 74 years old.
Now it's just myself my Mother and my Grandmother - there is other family but they are scattered and we never see them. The Head of the family has gone though and the void he has left is just awful. I'm sobbing my heart out here as I type this and I know that if he could see me he would have that look on his face - he hated me being upset over anything he really hated that and when I cried he would look at me with a pained look on his face, I know he adored me as much as I did him. I love him everything feels wrong nothing feels normal or right - I've gone through bereavement before and that was bad enough but this just seems to have really knocked me sideways.
I love him I want my Dad back I want to see him, I want him back here now so so much and I know that I cannot have that. I have no idea how to adjust or how to even want to carry on. I knew 2011 was going to be a bad year. I just knew in my heart that it would be an awful year and it is.
I'd do anything anything at all to have him back.
I once read that no matter how somebody dies or even at what age, it has happened because their death was set for that date and time. If he had to go then I know nothing could have changed that but it wont stop me hurting, wishing and wanting.
People say that they stay with you and they can see you and hear you all the time, but I'm scared that that isn't true and I will never see him again. I'm not a Xtian and have no time for all the "god wanted him". Cos I wanted him, I NEED him and I want him back here alive right now!! I HATE that I cannot have that no matter how much I scream, yell and sob my heart out.
I don't know how to get through any of life anymore now, it's too strange too different and I really hate having to go through change.