The Wifezilla Diaries

This will likely be a long post.  I’m warning you in advance but it’s something that I need to write, so if you want to read it, great.  If not, then skip on to the next post most likely about sex or someone bitching about a friend or something.  HA!

My mom and dad met in high school when my mom was 17 and my dad was 19.  My dad was such a player in high school.  He was voted “Mr. Playboy” in his senior class.  He had a huge afro and wore bellbottoms that were so huge I am not even sure how he walked.  My grandma says though that when he met my mom it was all over.  It was the first girl that he ever truly loved.  She says you could see it all over him how in love he was.  They were married when my mom was still 17 and dad was 19.  I cannot even imagine.  They were just babies!  They were both so happy and beautiful in their wedding pictures. 

One of the things that my parents had in common was that they were both partiers - sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, and alcohol.  Then when my mom was 21, I came along.  My dad was smitten with me completely.  I love looking at pictures of when I was a baby and the look that he has on his face while looking at me is priceless.  I was daddy’s little girl from the start.  When I came along, my mom decided it was time to change her ways and be an adult and stop the partying.  However, my dad was not ready to do that yet.  I have memories of seeing my dad drink, do cocaine, smoke pot, etc.  I was very young, but these things stuck in my head.  My dad was an alcoholic. 

My dad also was still a “playboy”.  As much as he loved my mother and I, he loved his partying more at that time in his life.  I’m not sure exactly that is true, but he didn’t give it up.  Along with this all came another woman into the picture.  This woman was younger than him and was willing to party along with him and forget any real responsibilities that either of them had.  I can remember my mom waiting for him to get home in the evenings and even having made dinner for him and it getting cold all because he was out partying with the other woman. 

When I was little, I guess I must have sense something was wrong.  There was a lot of fighting and a lot of dad not being home.  But to me, he was still my daddy and he hung the moon as far as I was concerned.  I didn’t love him any less because of his selfishness.  When I was 5, my parents divorced.  My mom had finally had enough and she wanted a better life for the two of us.  I remember mom crying a lot and I remember me not really understanding completely what was going to happen.  I then became the “divorced kid” who spent every other weekend at my dad’s house - which at the time was his dad and stepmom’s house because he couldn’t afford his own place - too busy spending the money on other things that he didn’t need.  The other woman and the partying were still very much in the picture sadly.  I hated her even as a child.  I was uncomfortable around her.  Kids have good intuition.

During this time, my parents did not exactly stay away from each other.  I truly believe they were still very much in love but that my mom did what she felt she needed to do for us.  That “not staying away from each other” led to my mom becoming pregnant when I was 8.  They decided to give it another go around.  Maybe dad had changed this time.  My brother was born when I was 8 years old and he was the best present that I ever could have received.  Daddy moved back in with us before he was born.  I was so excited!  However, the fighting continued, the drinking continued, the pot continued, the other woman continued.  My dad ended up getting the “other woman” pregnant as well.  My little sister was born.  My mom finally had enough (again) and dad was gone (again).  I missed him so much.  I didn’t understand everything that was going on.  My mom didn’t want us around dad very much.  Turns out he wasn’t paying child support and he was still doing stuff that she didn’t want her kids around.  I still loved him so much though.  I wanted to see him.  I missed him terribly.

There were a few years in there that I didn’t see my dad much.  He ended up getting a job in which he traveled a lot.  He always sent postcards and always called.  I was still his little girl no matter what.  He eventually married the “other woman” somewhere along the way in my middle school years.  She was awful.  She did drugs, she had a bipolar volatile personality, she didn’t care about her children..just awful.  I hated her.  I could not understand why he married her.  I know now it was likely because she didn’t make him feel bad about drinking, doing drugs, etc - she just did it with him and encouraged it. 

My dad eventually started at least trying to get his life together.  He bought a nice home, he tried to cut out the drugs other than the pot, and tried not to drink as much.  This was around my 8th grade year.  We started being able to go stay with him every other weekend again.  I had so much fun staying with my dad.  We would play outside, take walks in the woods, eat things like nachos and root beer for dinner, rent movies and stay up late, play Nintendo together, etc.  He always made sure we had a good time and that we were comfortable. 

The older I got the more I saw my dad.  I loved spending time with him.  We were so much alike both in looks and personality.  He was someone who everyone loved.  Everyone became fast friends with him when they met him.  He could smile and melt the room.  He was a charmer.  He was so generous.  I remember one Christmas when my dad had NOTHING he knew there were people who had even less.  We spent one evening cutting down a Christmas tree and making Christmas ornaments and taking them to one of his friends who didn’t have the money for a tree.  Things like this are what I remember the most about my dad.

When I was a sophomore in high school my dad found a lump in his neck.  I was scared to death.  No.  Please no.  Please don’t let it be…. but it was.  It was Cancer.  He was 37.  He went through a surgery to remove it.  I was at the hospital with him of course.  He tried to act brave and like he was just fine.  He didn’t want his baby girl to see him scared.  Becuase he knew I was scared. 

After the first surgery he was okay for a long time.  We had a great relationship during this time.  I was old enough to drive so I could see him whenever I wanted.  The older I became, the more I resembled him both in looks and personality.  We were two peas in a pod.  Plus, you know during high school I couldn’t stand my mom.  Typical stupid high school girl. 

I went to college in a town about an hour away from where I was from.  I didn’t want to be far from my family.  When I was probably a sophomore in college, I received a phone call from my dad one afternoon asking if I had time to talk.  He knew I didn’t have the time to come visit that week due to work and class load.  He had found another lump in his neck in the same place only this time it was bigger.  I was speechless, stunned, scared, angry, all at the same time.  I knew there had been the possibility of it coming back but I was not prepared to go through this.  He sounded scared this time.

This time it was much worse.  There was so much more to go through.  He needed radiation this time.  My dad was a honorably discharged member of the Navy so he received his treatments at the VA hospital in St. Louis, MO.  The catch was that he had to stay there to recieve the treatments.  I missed him so much while he was gone.  He had chemo treatments as well.  He became very weak, thin, and somewhat depressed from being so far away.  It killed me to see this happening.  I was so happy when he was finally home again.  It appeared that the Cancer was all gone once again.

Over the next couple of years he was sick off and on even though it seemed that the Cancer was gone.  I can remember having to leave in the middle of classes in college to go to the hospital because he was there.  The treatments made him very sick.  I hated seeing him sick.  It was scary.  It is so scary to see one of your parents helpless and crying in pain. 

My senior year of college the Cancer came back.  Daddy was so tired by this point.  He didn’t know what to do.  The surgery for this one would be even more intensive than the others.  It would be about a 10 hour surgery where they would have to cut him from his chin down to the bottom of his neck and across as well.  Basically make a big cross on him.  There was no guarantee that this surgery would cure the Cancer.  He was torn on doing the surgery and just finally giving in and saying it was time to just let it run it’s course.  We all told him that whatever he wanted to do was fine and that we would be at peace either way.  He finally decided that he wanted to try to stay around for his kids a little while longer so we scheduled the surgery.

I remember going to dad’s house one day and spending the day with him.  It is one of the last days that we spent together both of us alone.  It was a beautiful day outside and we went 4-wheeler riding and just riding around all day talking and having a great time.  We had such great conversations that day.  My dad had so many regrets - it’s sad that it took a terminal illness for him to clean up his act and realize the wrong that he had done.  He told me all the time that screwing things up with my mom was the biggest mistake he ever made because he loved her so much and he knows his life would have been better with her.  The “other woman” had turned into a meth head.  Nice huh?  He talked about divorcing her but he didn’t have the strength to go through it.  I understood.  We talked that day about “what if” scenarios.  He told me to make sure that all of us siblings kept in touch even after he was gone.  He went over things with me like what songs he wanted at his funeral, etc.  I couldn’t believe that we were having these conversations.  I realize now he was just being smart.  That is one of my favorite days I have ever had in my life. 

Daddy had his big sugery the middle of my senior year of college.  I sat in the hospital for 12 hours that day and I have never been more nervous in my life.  I was physically sick that morning due to nerves.  The surgery went well and he was able to come home after about a week.  He had a feeding tube and a trach & stoma.  I was scared to death to see him the first time after the surgery.  I knew that the man that I would be seeing was not my dad as I knew him.  And it wasn’t.  I wanted to cry.  It was still my daddy and he still put on a brave smile when I walked in the room but I could just feel my insides hurting for him. 

He started feeling better after a month or so at home but he was not even close to 100%.  He had bad days and good days.  I have always heard that about people with Cancer but I never fully understood it until I went through it and saw it.  Some days I would see him and he would be out mowing the yard then grilling out burgers for dinner.  Some days I would get the call that he was in the hospital sick.  It varied greatly.  One of the big things that he wanted to do was see me graduate from college.  He was so proud of me.  All I ever heard from anyone was how proud he was of me for my outstanding grades, working, being a good person, etc.  He was able to come to my college graduation.  Another one of my favorite memories is me sitting down on the floor of the auditorium and scanning the crowd of thousands of people to try to find my parents.  There sat my dad with the biggest cheesing grin I have ever seen waving to me as big as he can so that I can see him.  I waved just as big at him.  Some people would have been embarrassed.  I was thanking God that my dad was sitting there.  He was the first person to greet me at my graduation party.  He wasn’t feeling great - I could tell that the day had worn him out.  I will never forget that day though.  I read my graduation card over and over that he gave me.  He wrote an entire page in the inside of it.  I write just like him. 

I went to his house on July 3rd that summer and that would be the last time that I would see him though I of course didn’t know that at the time.  He was having a good day that day.  I had just started a new job so I was busy all the time.  I didn’t get home to see him as much as I should have.  That is one of my biggest regrets.  I am not a huge regrets person but I do regret that.  We talked on the phone often.  The last words we said to each other were “I love you”. 

The morning of Tuesday, August 19, 2003 the phone rang around 4am.  My roommate at the time answered the phone and I was sleepy but I vaguely heard the conversation and all he said was, “No…no…okay…” and his voice was choked up.  I was saying, “What??  What??” and he hung up the phone and just held me and said, “He’s gone.”  I cannot even describe the feeling that I felt at that time because I have never had it again.  I immediately cried violent tears and jumped out of bed and I could not quit saying, “No, this isn’t happening.  This is a joke, this is not happening.”  I was numb.  My body was numb.  He had apparently went to sleep and just never woke up.  The day before that he called our pastor to come to the house to spend some time with him.  He had to have known.  I was at my mom’s house by 5am that morning.  That had to be weird for her though I will never understand that feeling.  My brother’s 13th birthday was two days later.  I felt so incredibly bad for my younger siblings.  I had gotten more time with this amazing man.  They now didn’t have a father. 

At the viewing I was the picture of organization.  That is my way of dealing with things.  The day before the viewing at age 21 I sat in the room with my uncles and my grandmother and planned my father’s funeral.  He had everything written out on a piece of notebook paper - pall bearers, songs he wanted played, etc.  I still have that piece of paper.  At the viewing we had “Simple Man”, “Freebird”, and “Dust in the Wind”, and “Wish You Were Here” blaring through the speakers just as he wanted it.  There were tears, but as he would have wanted it, people were not depressed outwardly anyway.  I didn’t cry a tear until my best friend arrived.  I completely lost it at that point.  I don’t think it had yet hit me that my dad was laying in the coffin at the front of the room. 

The funeral was miserable.  We held it a day so it wouldn’t be held on my brother’s birthday.  We had to hold it in our church as there wasn’t room in the funeral home for all of the people who wanted to come.  Even having it at the church it was standing room only.  So many people adored my dad.  I cried nearly the entire funeral.  At one point my little 13 year old brother who had to become a man overnight reached up and held my hand.  I was sitting in the pew in front of him.  I will never forget that moment.  We became more than brother and sister at that point - we became friends.  When they closed the casket after everyone but family had left I thought I would lose it completely.  I could barely stand up.  It was so hot that day.  I just wanted the day to be over with. 

After that day I guess everyone expected me to be an emotional wreck but I was still numb.  I went on about things like normal.  That was my way of coping.  Until one night about 3 days later when I completely lost it and cried for hours.  It had hit me.  I would never see or talk to him again.  The man who I loved more than any man ever was gone.  That is a hard concept to grasp.  I still can’t grasp it and it’s almost 5 years later. 

Losing my dad made me realize that life is short.  I changed a lot of things about my life after that and they were all for the better.  I have become much more of a “live for the now” person.  You never know what will happen.  My father was not a perfect man.  He made many, many mistakes along the way.  He admitted to me over and over his mistakes and apologized profusely for them.  I didn’t love him any less for his mistakes.  In fact, him admitting them to me probably only made me love him more because I know that was hard for him to do.  I was daddy’s little girl.  I always will be daddy’s little girl.  I visit the cemetery more than anyone.  My dad and I had so many great times together and that is what I remember about him.  My grandma says, “As long as you are alive, your dad will never be dead.”  I am so much like him.  Not in the drugs and alcohol part, but in how we treat people, how we see life, and how we look.  I love looking at pictures of him.  When I hear The Doors or Led Zeppelin it makes me smile.  I think about him probably about every hour to this day.  I still sit sometimes and think, how is it that I will not speak to him again?  Why can’t I just pick up the phone and call my dad?  He would be so happy for me.  I am sad that my husband will never get to meet him.  I talk about him all the time to the kids so they will feel like they know him.  Sydney loves to go to the cemetery with me and put flowers out.  She knows how much I miss him.  It hurts.  I miss him so much it hurts. 

In 5 days it will be the five year anniversary of his death.  I will be a wreck that day as I always am.  It doesn’t go away.  However, I will hold up a Budweiser and listen to The Doors that night and pretend he is right there with me.  That will at least get a smile out of me.

If you got through this, you are great.  : )  This was a selfish post. One more for me than for my readers.  I promise to get back to funniness tomorrow.