Been 18 Years...

Quick Note: I know it has been nearly two years since I've blogged, but it's been a crazy time and my focus just wasn't here. I hope to get back into it and blog more regularly and thank you for sticking around and reading! 

Yesterday was October 4th. That means it has been 18 years since my Bubby passed away. WOW! It's crazy to think that more time in my life has passed since her death than had passed when she died. (I was 17.)

It was September 4th and I had just started my senior year at Northeast, literally just started....that day. I came home from school and my mom and her boyfriend were out. They were on a 'staycation' and were just taking day trips in and around the city. My aunt called and desperately needed to speak to my mom; she was frantic. I knew something was up but she wouldn't tell me anything. I had no idea when my mom would be home and started to get nervous. Luckily, my mom's boyfriend had to use the bathroom and they stopped home before heading to the movies. I gave my mom the message and she called my aunt. Everything changed with that phone call.

Just minutes later I was in the car, without shoes on, waiting to drive to Atlantic City. My Bubby was in the hospital, in a coma, and it didn't look good. We spent the next two weeks driving to AC pretty much every single day. We would've just stayed there but I had to be home for school. It wasn't easy but we did what we had to do to be there. After two weeks I couldn't take it anymore. My Bubby was losing weight (and not looking herself) and was still pretty much unresponsive (less the random toe twitch or hand squeeze.) I decided I didn't want to remember her that way and made the difficult decision to not visit anymore. My mom respected my decision and continued her almost daily commute without me.

I don't regret my decision. My Bubby was an incredible woman and I carry with me so many wonderful memories. I am glad that my memories do not center around her in the hospital, and instead remain focused on her on the boardwalk, the beach, or eating breakfast in the bathroom so as not to wake me in the morning. I am happy that I can still remember her laugh and see her smile. Hell, I'm even happy I remember how annoying it was when she sucked her teeth. I'll always carry with me the memories of being amazed at how she always had hot oatmeal ready for me, regardless of what time I woke up. (Yes, when I grew up and learned how to make oatmeal/keep water hot, I was  a little less impressed but still incredibly happy that something so small created such a wonderful memory.) I have a million memories that I could share but that would take all day and, truth be told, I prefer to keep them close to my heart.

Bottom line, it's been way too long since she cut my grapefruit and put my sugar packets out before a beach day. It's been way too long since she handed me $20 and told Meredith and me to "go have fun" on the boardwalk and then didn't get mad when we needed more because $20 just wasn't enough for Steel Pier AND Ripley's Believe It or Not AND pizza. It's been way too long since she packed lunches to eat on the beach, very well knowing I was going to skip lunch and just ask for a fudgesicle. It's been way too long since we sat together on the boardwalk eating ice cream at night, her her butter pecan and me, my whatever concoction I dreamed up. It's been way too long since she called me the apple of her eye and the love of her life. But you know what? With all the time that has passed since hearing that...I still feel it and know it's true.

While my Bubby hasn't been around to see me grow into adulthood, I know she's watching over me always. And while she may not have agreed with all of my decisions, I know she'd still be proud of the woman that I am and I know she'd be my biggest supporter. Being confident in that is comforting during those times when I feel alone. What gets me through it is remembering that because her spirit lives in my heart, I'm never really alone..

I love you, Bubby.

'Big Al & Till'
I hope heaven has a boardwalk and you're walking it together.

(One more side note: It still irritates me that her death records report her date of death as October 1st. It wasn't. Grrrrr)

Happy Father's Day

Any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a Daddy. We've all heard the saying, but what does it really mean? To me, it means that fatherhood extends far beyond just getting a woman pregnant. It's about being there. It's about putting your child before you put yourself. It's about sharing in joys and comforting pains. It's about loving through the tears and making everything all better, even when you know it's not always okay. It's about always being the man your baby girl can count on when other men break her heart. It's about loving someone else more than you will ever love yourself. Today should be hubby's first father day, but as you know it didn't work out that way. I do know that he will fulfill the Daddy role in a beautiful and awesome way. Our time will come....
 
My parents split up when I was 2 or 3 and I lived with my mom. I saw my dad every weekend and he was very involved in my life. I have some amazing memories of times with my dad. Daddy/daughter days. Puzzles. Models (the kind you build not the kind you stare at.) Bike rides. Pizza on Fridays. Fishing trips to LBI. Barbies. Family Dinners on Sundays. T.G.I.F, Hunter and Sisters. 610 WIP on my way to school. In fact,  Angelo (broadcaster on WIP) used to do a Winners/Weasels contest every week. I won one week when I nominated my dad as my winner and Angelo as my weasel. (Angelo was having a dad of the year contest and I named him my weasel because he never announced the way to nominate to your dad so I missed my chance.) I had the best of both worlds: a mom who loved me and a dad, step-mom and step-brother who loved me. I belonged to two families.

When I was 12, my dad broke up with his girlfriend, Marianne. I remember it like it was yesterday and I was crushed. They sat me down on the love seat and told me they were breaking up. Marianne was crying. I was crying. My father was visibly shaken. My only concern at that moment was making sure Marianne and her family would still be coming to my Bat Mitzvah. They were. I was so happy my 2nd family was still coming to my celebration that I didn't even think about how this break-up could change my life. After Marianne and my dad split-up, his priorities changed.

I won't go into all the details but the last fatherly thing my biological dad for me was walk out on my high school graduation. It was June 16, 1998 and it was his birthday. I watched him walk out just after my entire class was announced and it sucked. I got home and called him....at a bar; I knew he'd be there. He told me that it was his birthday and his friends were waiting for him. I told him "if you couldn't stay at my graduation, don't come to my graduation party." That was it, I was done. Some of you reading that may think it was pretty harsh. I don't. I was 17 years old and had been dealing with a lot of let downs for about 4 years.

When I was pregnant last year, I thought a lot about trying to reconnect with my dad. After all, like it or not, he will be my child's grandfather and who am I to take that relationship away from my baby. Before I had the chance to decide what to do, we terminated the pregnancy. Decision made. Three months after we lost the baby, my uncle died. Uncle Tony is my godfather and my father's brother. He has always been a special part of my life, even though ending my relationship with my father did impact my relationship with that side of the family. I wasn't really welcome anymore. It hurt, but I got over it. My uncle was always there whenever I needed him and was the first one to step up when my mom was in the hospital in 2006.(Happy Father's Day, Uncle Tony. I'm sorry I couldn't text you today.)

I saw my dad at my Uncle's funeral this past December and starting thinking about the day that I get the call that he's ill. What will I do? I have no idea. How will I feel? I have no clue. I do know that he's my father, and without him I wouldn't be who I am today. We learn just as much from our negative experiences as we do from our positive. I do know that I have some really wonderful memories from my childhood and a part of me hopes my baby will have memories with her grandfather too. (Side note, I will be so overly protective of that relationship if it happens. I cannot allow my father to hurt my baby the way he hurt me.) I don't know that my father is open to talking, as I've tried in the past. I sent him a letter and he didn't respond. He didn't even reach out to me when he knew I was getting married. I like to think that he misses his only daughter, his only child, but the truth is I just don't know.

Today, while I was food shopping, a song came on the loudspeaker. It's a song I VERY rarely hear and one I remember fondly. It's a song my father and I used to sing together, line by line, all the time. Even after all these years, I still remember every word and remember which lines I sang and which lines my father sang. It's by Elvis....a man my Uncle loved. Something tells me that my uncle had a hand in having this song play today, on Father's day, the day after my dad's birthday, while I was in the store. It brought a tear to my eye as I thought about all of the father's days my father has missed out on celebrating. I thought about how today should be my hubby's first father's day. I thought about how long it has been since I sang this song....

I don't really know the point of this blog tonight; I just had to write it. There is so much depth to the story/relationship between my father and me that I don't think I could even put it all into words if I wanted to. Anyway, Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. And to those of you that are just fathers, you're missing out.