15 years ago, I remember standing at the foot of your bed, just after they
took the tubes out. 15 years ago, I remember crawling in bed next to you,
putting my head on your shoulder and kissing you cheek for the last time while
you were still warm.
I was numb.
I was numb.
I whispered good night one last time as I left the room, taking one last look before leaving the room. That was the second time. The first time, I didn't get past the doorway.
I was angry. I guess I still am. I believed, deep down in my heart and soul that you would wake up soon. No one gave you that chance it seems. I remember sitting in the waiting room and although I was surrounded by mostly your family, I felt so alone. Where was the rest of my family? Why weren't they there? Did they ever truly care?
I remember Uncle Lenny (RIP) pulling my husband (boyfriend of only a few
months at the time) aside and asking him to take care of me. I curled up on the
ungiving couch in the waiting room, eyes blurry with tears, staring at the door
and silently begging God, or whoever was listening to bring you back and take
someone else. Hoping and wishing with all my might for you to walk through the
door from the overly bright hall. But you never did. The room was dim but
seemed to grow darker with every breath you were no longer allowed to take. It
was so unfair. I needed more time with you. But was grateful for the time I
spent. You were the only one who understood me and now I was alone. I didn't
know just how alone I would be until a few days later at your funeral. And so
would everyone else.
In. The. Back. Of. The. Church. Is where I sat. Billy on my left, your great-nephew
and his wife to my right. It felt like people were staring at me, wondering why
I was even there. No one said, "Hey sit here, we saved you a seat."
No one said "sorry for your loss". You might not have been blood, but
I saw you as more than my grandfather. I saw you as my father. There I sat in
the back of that church holding my boyfriend's hand and my second cousin's
hand, he holding his wife's hand, waiting for the ground to swallow me up. I
felt lower than the black sheep, lower than scum, lower than dirt.
I am not really sure where this is going. All I know is that I miss you. I
am not sure why it get thrown on me that I am a bad person. I'm not really.
Since becoming an adult, I've only ever asked for at least half of the effort I
put in. And I get nothing. There really shouldn't even be an effort it should
just come naturally. If it were for facebook I am not sure I would hear from
anyone. No cards, no calls. When did things get so fucked up?
I have this vision in my head that all differences are put aside and
everyone isn't fake, everyone is sincere and true. It's just a vision though.
15 years ago, you got called to a better place. Now, I am thankful that you get to see how everyone really is.
Since being married, I have grown a bond with hubby's grandfather. Our conversations
usually consist of a few grunts, points, snickers, hums, umms, what are you
saying, I don't understand. But somehow we know exactly what the other is
talking about. He can never take your place but comes pretty close. He's a
strange man; you'd get along with with him. I am thankful that he has seen me
through in your physical absence. I realize now that you had to go, someone
needed to get things ready there for Shealyn. I have no regrets. And am
thankful I got to talk with you truthfully and honestly before you got too
sick. I still have so many questions that will NEVER get answered.
One day differences will be put aside. But I fear it is too late for things
to go back the way they were.
Miss you more that I can describe.
