Missing a father

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 12, 2011 . 2:50PM

Sometimes, we miss someone we’ve lost so much that it feels like we are never going to get over their loss. I initially wrote this years ago and it still feels pretty open. I made some minor edits to reflect time passed. Marty passed 9 years ago today. May he rest in peace. Or at least have a cigarette.

9 years ago today my “Daddy” died. He wasn’t my real daddy, nor was he even part of my biological family. He was my best friend’s father, but he was a Daddy in every way that ever counted to me. He loved me unconditionally, something that was new for me being that even my mom loved me conditionally. When Vanessa and I would argue, he’d never take her side just because she was his daughter, nor mine, he’d just listen patiently and tell us we were both idiots to be arguing because we loved each other so much. And you know what, he was right. June 21st, 2001, I wrote an entry about Marty. I’d just found out about his cancer.

June 21, 2001

“I met Marty when I was 11. I played softball with his daughters. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Not only with his daughters, but also with him. His daughters and I went to school together and I became close with his youngest, Vanessa. We were in softball and drama together and I basically lived at his house during my high school years. When I had no one else to support me, he was there. He called me and the 6 other girls that hung out there his “lovelies.” I can’t tell you how special that made us feel. How special that made ME feel. He pretty much raised all 15 of the kids that hung out there. We would head over to his house after various events and we were always welcome. When I decided to leave my house at 16 due to problems with my parents, he was there. He told me I could stay as long as I wanted as long as I told my parents where I was. When I was ready to go back home, he loved and supported me. He was and always will be my “Daddy.”

I am not the only one who feels this way. Though he only had 3 biological children, he has at least 15 others who considered him to be theirs. I got an email two days ago from Vanessa. I had known that Marty went through cancer about a year ago, but we thought it had all been removed. It hadn’t. He had an extreme headache on Sunday and went to the ER. They transferred him to Barnes-Jewish in St. Louis that same day. He had surgery 2 days ago. Apparently everything went well enough that he was angry he couldn’t have a cigarette immediately following. Vanessa said in her email that this is the beginning of the end. That he has 6-12 months to live. He’s going home. This is the end. I don’t know how much time I have left to tell him how special he is, but I mailed out a letter to him today. I’m going back to my hometown next weekend and am going to spend as much time with my “Daddy” as I can.”

He lived almost exactly a year after that. He was 44 years old. My life will never be the same since he’s gone, but my life will never be the same because I was gifted with 11 years with him. I miss him and think of him often. I mourn many things, but this may be one of the losses I grieve the most. He lived a life full of adventure, drama, sadness and happiness.

I would give almost anything right now to hear him call me his lovely again. I haven’t had anyone call me that in a long, long time. I feel hollow.

2011…

There are some losses we don’t necessarily “get over.” Rather, we move forward with the knowledge that it is as easy as it will get and that, thankfully, our memories dull and the pain can lessen and that good memories will hold us. When we lose someone that was joyful and truly lived, it’s easier to let go because there are less regrets. I still remember his raspy voice and his deep laugh. For those that believe in life after this one, there is hope in spending time with him again. I am thankful for that. I am grateful for his teachings on unconventional parenting. There are times I find myself speaking to my child and I realize that I am speaking his words.

Yes, he endures and I think he’d be proud of all of the kids that spent time at his house and who they are.

“To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.” ~ Thomas Campbell