Carry On My Wayward Son
I found out just before leaving for California, for the Christmas and New Year holiday, that my father had been diagnosed with advanced Liver Cancer. This came as no real shock or surprise considering how much he drank on a regular basis. When I heard the news, however, I had assumed he was back in the hospital for a throat issue he'd had a month or so before. Though it wasn't a truly surprising diagnosis, it was more surprising to find out that the doctors assumed that he had six months left at best. We tried to figure out a way that we could head down there before we left for California, but there was just no way it could be done. There was no way to get a refund on the tickets we had purchased for California, and we couldn't just flush $1,000 tickets to rush to North Carolina either. It just wasn't feasible. We made plans to leave for North Carolina straight away from returning from California. We flew home Wednesday night, arriving early Thursday morning. Jon had to head into work on Friday -- where he requested Monday and Tuesday off. While he was at work I washed all of our clothes that we'd taken with us to California so that we could pack again to head off to North Carolina straight away Saturday morning. We planned on leaving at 7am and driving all the way down there. Then on Tuesday morning we would head back home.
I was tired, and in pain from the trip home from California. But I made sure to let my cousins know that we were heading down as soon as we could -- my cousin Shannon said that she told my father, and he was really happy to know that we were on our way down. By friday night we were all ready packed and getting ready to head to bed around 10pm when on facebook I saw that my cousin Shannon posted that my father died. It happened around 9pm. An hour before I saw the news.
I checked my phone. Surely they would have let me know, right?
There was a single text message reading: "Joe has passed away."
No phone calls.
No other messages.
Nothing.
We were going to leave the next morning! Why then? He couldn't hold out one more day so that I could see him?
no. That's selfish of me.
It's my own fault. I was supposed to call him, and I lost track of time. I lost track of everything. Both my father and I had trouble keeping in touch with people who aren't right there all the time. If you live far away, it's harder for me to remember to talk to you. My mind is always on other things.
I found out that my dad was a large part of my sister, Tonya's, family; as well as my cousin's families. I felt somehow jilted. He was such a large part of their families and their childhood. He was a great guy -- why wasn't he in my life? Sure we talked now and then, but there were no cards at holidays or birthdays. Hell, I never even knew his birthday until a year ago when my cousins set up a facebook page for him.
I found out on Saturday that the wake was being held today (Monday) and the funeral is being held tomorrow. There was a chance we could make it there, but after dealing with how I was treated when my grandfather died, I don't think that it's that good of an idea to head down there for the services. I had my time of grief. Perhaps I'm still dealing with it, but the tears have all passed. There are no more for me to shed. I have gone into a state of numbness. I only hope that this state of numbness doesn't last as long as the one I had when my grandfather passed. Jon has not ever had to deal with me when I've been this way and I don't know how he'll react to it.
He keeps asking me if I'm ok, and I tell him that I feel fine -- because that's all I know to say. I don't know if I feel fine or not. I try to put on airs that I am, but there's something off, obviously -- he keeps asking. He says I seem out of it. I don't know how to explain to him that I don't really know what's going on or how to fix it. He's been doing his best to cheer me up. I feel bad that he spent so much money on Saturday when we had friends over as an impromptu cheer-up party for me. By the end of th enight I was drunk and laughing with everyone else, of course. damagedprincess and I would go outside and talk in the car. She, of all people, knows that I handle things differently. She understood. She offered helped and condolences in the way that she knows. We both have trouble with these sorts of things. Showing emotions isn't something we're very good at.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the whole situation. I feel somewhat distant from myself. I know that my father knew that I was trying to come see him. He knew I was coming. I have to tell myself that that is enough. There is no sense in going to a service for someone who can no longer appreciate my presence. The wake and the funeral service aren't really for the dead -- they're for the living.
I'm going to ask my sister Tonya to send me the DVD of pictures and the like that they've made up, as well as a prayer card from the service. I'm also going to ask if I can have one of his bandanas or something that belonged to him. A ring, a watch -- something small. That's all I want. I don't have anything of my grandfather's anymore. I had a nice pen set once. I let Juan use it, and it has long since disappeared. I have a table and some small knick-knacks of my grandmother's. Little things to remember them by.
I didn't know my father nearly as well as I could have, or probably should have, and we never spent very much time together.
But I know he was a good person.
I'm envious of my family that got to spend more time with him than I did, but I cannot say that I didn't love my father.
I did.
I do.
I love you pop.
Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest,
Don't you cry no more.
I was tired, and in pain from the trip home from California. But I made sure to let my cousins know that we were heading down as soon as we could -- my cousin Shannon said that she told my father, and he was really happy to know that we were on our way down. By friday night we were all ready packed and getting ready to head to bed around 10pm when on facebook I saw that my cousin Shannon posted that my father died. It happened around 9pm. An hour before I saw the news.
I checked my phone. Surely they would have let me know, right?
There was a single text message reading: "Joe has passed away."
No phone calls.
No other messages.
Nothing.
We were going to leave the next morning! Why then? He couldn't hold out one more day so that I could see him?
no. That's selfish of me.
It's my own fault. I was supposed to call him, and I lost track of time. I lost track of everything. Both my father and I had trouble keeping in touch with people who aren't right there all the time. If you live far away, it's harder for me to remember to talk to you. My mind is always on other things.
I found out that my dad was a large part of my sister, Tonya's, family; as well as my cousin's families. I felt somehow jilted. He was such a large part of their families and their childhood. He was a great guy -- why wasn't he in my life? Sure we talked now and then, but there were no cards at holidays or birthdays. Hell, I never even knew his birthday until a year ago when my cousins set up a facebook page for him.
I found out on Saturday that the wake was being held today (Monday) and the funeral is being held tomorrow. There was a chance we could make it there, but after dealing with how I was treated when my grandfather died, I don't think that it's that good of an idea to head down there for the services. I had my time of grief. Perhaps I'm still dealing with it, but the tears have all passed. There are no more for me to shed. I have gone into a state of numbness. I only hope that this state of numbness doesn't last as long as the one I had when my grandfather passed. Jon has not ever had to deal with me when I've been this way and I don't know how he'll react to it.
He keeps asking me if I'm ok, and I tell him that I feel fine -- because that's all I know to say. I don't know if I feel fine or not. I try to put on airs that I am, but there's something off, obviously -- he keeps asking. He says I seem out of it. I don't know how to explain to him that I don't really know what's going on or how to fix it. He's been doing his best to cheer me up. I feel bad that he spent so much money on Saturday when we had friends over as an impromptu cheer-up party for me. By the end of th enight I was drunk and laughing with everyone else, of course. damagedprincess and I would go outside and talk in the car. She, of all people, knows that I handle things differently. She understood. She offered helped and condolences in the way that she knows. We both have trouble with these sorts of things. Showing emotions isn't something we're very good at.
I'm still not sure how I feel about the whole situation. I feel somewhat distant from myself. I know that my father knew that I was trying to come see him. He knew I was coming. I have to tell myself that that is enough. There is no sense in going to a service for someone who can no longer appreciate my presence. The wake and the funeral service aren't really for the dead -- they're for the living.
I'm going to ask my sister Tonya to send me the DVD of pictures and the like that they've made up, as well as a prayer card from the service. I'm also going to ask if I can have one of his bandanas or something that belonged to him. A ring, a watch -- something small. That's all I want. I don't have anything of my grandfather's anymore. I had a nice pen set once. I let Juan use it, and it has long since disappeared. I have a table and some small knick-knacks of my grandmother's. Little things to remember them by.
I didn't know my father nearly as well as I could have, or probably should have, and we never spent very much time together.
But I know he was a good person.
I'm envious of my family that got to spend more time with him than I did, but I cannot say that I didn't love my father.
I did.
I do.
I love you pop.
Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done.
Lay your weary head to rest,
Don't you cry no more.