10.27.20
10/27/2023
When I was 16 my father passed away.
It's something I've struggled with for a long time because he was, still is, such an integral part of me.
Growing up, I was a daddy's girl. We went to the mall on rainy days, he picked me up from school, and "was my uber to tennis tournaments" as he would say. A memory he always talked about was the day we went to get ice cream at the mall and I stuffed my face into the ice cream with him standing by laughing. A woman came up to us and told him what a wonderful dad he was. He taught me the morals of life and was always there during the ups and downs of growing up.
He was not without his troubles. My father was what you would call a functional addict. His addiction began when I was nearing the end of grade school. As he got further in, he became a different person. He wasn't as joyful or patient anymore. The addiction took over him and I could hardly recognize him anymore. He became verbally abusive, often yelling at me daily. I remember once he told me, I would work at McDonald's the rest of my life.
When I was in middle school, he was hospitalized for a few days. It was one of the scariest moments of my life; I thought we (my mom and I) were going to lose him. Then he got sober and I was so proud of him. It was a happier time.
In high school, it got bad again. High school was a tough time for me, I was introverted and afraid of not belonging in the cliquey culture. Dealing with my dad's addiction during this time only added to my struggles. Through his troubles, I would get glimpses of the dad I used to know. I remember crying in my room one day after a very bad day and my dad heard me. He came into the room and asked me what was wrong. He just hugged me and said he'll always be there for me.
When COVID hit, it only got worse. He wasn't able to go to the animal shelter anymore—his main pastime since retiring. He used to go to the animal shelter every day and spend hours with the dogs. My dad loved walking the dogs and promoting their adoptions. As we got deeper into the lockdown, he stopped cooking (my father cooked our meals growing up) and going out for the occasional grocery trip. He stayed in his room and talked to himself until in late October 2020 it was too much.
This period was the worst time in my life, but it also made me become more responsible. I began to mow the lawn and clean the pool (things my dad did). I had to learn how to balance tennis, school, and household responsibilities so I could help my hard-working mom.
              *an aside: I gained so much respect for gardeners - mowing lawns is hard work.
Throughout his sickness, I pushed him away — partially as a part of growing up, becoming more indpendent and partially because I didn't want to deal with the person he became. I didn't talk to him much when it became worse. I've blamed myself for what happened to him since his spiral and my part in the reasons he told me for his sickness. Blamed myself for not being there for him more or calling an ambulance. With time, I've come to realize I'm not to blame and the only person who could help my dad was himself. I've had to find forgivness within myself for both me and him.
There's never not a day when I don't think of him, don't wish I could hug him again, don't wish I could Facetime him. It's this time of the year I think of you even more dad.
I'm not one to express my feelings openly— this was a difficult post for me to write (it took me many tears). When you lose someone, it leaves a hole in your heart. I couldn't tell my friends because they wouldn't understand. Few people understand the impact this has had on me/who I've become and I'm beyond grateful for those few. Most of all my mother, who is the strongest, hardest working, beyond dedicated person I know.
To anyone with a close one or yourself experiencing addiciton: In your happiest, darkest, everyday times I hope you know there are people who will always be there for you—people who need you. If that isn't reason enough to fight through the dark times..what is?