I would be posting this tomorrow, but tomorrow is my brothers wedding. So tonight it is. I want to tell you a story. A very painful story for me. But my hope with this post is that maybe, someone, somewhere will learn from it.
Life is to short, say whats on you mind. Do what you want! And most importantly, tell the ones you love, that you love them.
Okay, October 16, 2000. I was 11 years old. It was just 14 days after my 11 birthday.
Let me just explain a few things. My dad, had cancer. Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He was diagnosed when I was about 6 years old. I'll remember that day forever. But that's for another post. My dad and I didn't get along the best. It was the pre-teen thing. We where both moody and sick. I remember one day giving him a hug and him asking me "what the hell are you doing?" I remember wondering, does dad really love me?
October 16, 2000. It was a normal day. A Monday. My dad drove my school bus. I always sat in the back seat so I could be the last one off, I wanted to be able to say goodbye to him every morning.
That morning it was different though. While I sat there in the back of the bus my thoughts wouldn't leave me alone. Something was eating away at me. Did dad really love me?
My mind just kept shouting over and over! GIVE HIM A HUG! TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM!
But me being a stupid kid, I mumbled goodbye and walked into. School was normal that day, expect for that one feeling. You should of told him you loved him.
Near the end of the day my mom showed up in my class room. She was there to drop off the house keys. Dad was sick, he was taken to the hospital. My stomach dropped. I tried to convince myself that he would be okay. He just got sick a lot easier because of the cancer and chemo.
But that feeling was still there, stronger then ever.
I got home to an empty house that afternoon. The rest is a blur.
Grandma coming to pick my brother and I up. Kneeling by the bed and praying. Grandparents rushing to the hospital because he wasn't doing well at all. Climbing into the top bunk at my cousins out. Not knowing what was going on. Knowing dad was very very sick.
I went to sleep, not knowing that I'd never see him alive again. I went to sleep kicking myself for never saying "I love you"
--- I'm sorry day, so sorry!---
Oh sweetie. Don't beat yourself up over that. You were 11. You did what 11 year old kids did. Your dad knew you love him. xo
ReplyDeleteaww Kristine... thanks..but its still so hard. Ill never not regret this.
ReplyDeleteJessi, I like the blue background..is it new or have i just not been here for awhile?
ReplyDeleteYou've told me this story before. And I'm sorry that you feel that way. And Kristine is right, you were a KID. Your becoming an adult self is still holding your kid self responsible for something you shouldn't be... BUT, I know you're not going to hear that, so let me share with you a story about another kid, okay?
Seth's bassinet was in our living room (we weren't planning on baby #4, but he was NEVER unwanted or unloved). Sean, who was 10 at the time, would sit on the edge of the couch and lean over the bassinet and talk to Seth. Seth lOVED his oldest brother (and his other silbings too of course) and he would "talk" back.
Sean, being a 10 year old boy, spent a fair amount of his summer time (that we had Seth with us) in his downstairs bedroom reading or downstairs playing video games. A few weeks after Seth died, Sean and I were upstairs in the livng room (now bassinet/crib free) and Sean said to me: "I should have played video games less. I should have stayed upstairs. At least Seth and I would have been in the same room."
What would YOU tell Sean? You would tell him he's a kid, Seth knew Sean loved him. Anything I missed?
NOW... tell THAT to yourself!
I love you.
aww! Your dad knows you love him! You were just being a normal kid. We all do that!! But remember he knows!
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