The Daughter of an Addict

Quick glimpses Each day since my fathers passing I’ve managed tell myself to put him out of sight out of mind, move on and the nightmare will end. Very similar to the relationship we shared. Then today I caught a quick glimpse. ... I often check his Facebook page just to see if friends of his have posted videos, pictures or memories. The kind I didn’t get to have with him. The guy everyone knew but me. The good stuff. The ones that he was known and loved for, but not by me. I didn’t know that guy. I got a quick glimpse. A quick glimpse of the guy I wish I had known. The real Johnny Boy, the one who should have been my father. The one who I waited nearly 40 years to have a relationship with. The one who I had hoped would do it right for his grandchildren if he couldn’t do it for me. The father and grandfather I wish we had, had. Then I got a quick glimpse. As if I was seated at the table in front of where he was dancing. Enjoying life. I wonder what could have been. I’ll never get to make another call, I’ll never get to do this all over and try again. I’ll never make another trip to NY and fight with him about eating all the chocolate dipped jelly cookies. That’s it. He’s gone. Maybe it didn’t hit me till now, because that was the way our lives were. Distant. Never constant. On again off again. He lived his, I live mine. Maybe this is the first glimpse of hope, that he is ok. It’s been 2.5 months since he left this earth. I didn’t think I would ever write again. I put him out of sight out of mind. But today, he showed up. Today was my small glimmer of hope. Thank you Jesus.

Yesterday would have been my Dad’s 63rd birthday. It haunted me all day. I wanted to post this yesterday. But I was reminded of the relationship we didn’t have. Instead I spent the day casing his FB page and informing friends of his passing. ... Yesterday, came and went. Just like the relationship I had with my father. I woke up dreading even getting out of bed with tears streaming down my face. I listened to the last voicemail from my Dad. He asked for me. The message was clear. It was filled with fear, pain and sorrow. In between his broken sentences I could hear his gasps for air, him pausing and grunting in between the pain. What a horrible way to die. He suffered tremendously. Yesterday was another day of mourning. Another day of what could have been, another day of what should have been. Another day of a swift dose of reality, and what never was. Yesterday was just another thorn piercing my side. I remembered pictures of the last time I spent a birthday with my Dad. I have no memory of that day or that birthday with him. I had to be about 4 in this picture. It must have been while I still lived in NY. There I sat, as a young child, on my fathers lap. Not knowing what my future would hold. Not knowing that would be the last time I would sit on his lap. Not knowing it would be the last birthday I would ever celebrate with him. Not knowing those would be the last candles ever lit. It’s been at least 35 years since I celebrated a birthday with him. Dad must have remembered it though. He shared these pictures on his FB page in 2009, and tagged me in the memory. I must have missed that sign 11 years ago. Maybe he was just as upset as I was that we missed out on what should have been. I don’t know. I can’t ask him now. The time we shared has come and passed. It was just another yesterday, that came and went. Happy Birthday Dad. I hope this one was the best one yet. Free from the demons clutch. Filled with blue skies, and sunshine on your face. - The Daughter of an Addict -

Crumbled bits of paper, imperfect thoughts, and an endless amount of burdens... This is what my father left me, literally. I was always an afterthought. From the time I was born, until the day he died. ...Continue reading