The relationship with my father was a crazy dynamic: oldest of two, and an only girl. I was the first everything. I was the leader, but very spoiled. Even when he wasn’t around much I didn’t have to worry about anything, because I always knew he would be there for me. It’s very hard now and the expectation is different; because he’s gone.
Our relationship became difficult when I started having children, but no matter what he’s always been there. The one thing he taught me and instilled in my boys was to always have pride in what you do. He was so proud of being a “Big Red” from Muskegon, Michigan and the records that he set at the high school. My dad was always a very hard worker but he was also a hustler. I try to pass that on to my boys who are 16 & 5. He knew how to get things done, and was an example of a man for them. He just wasn’t their granddad, he was in the house until he got sick.
My dad got sick in late March of 2017.
It was a constant misdiagnosis. I remember him saying in May that he just wanted to die because he was so sick, and the recovery was going to be a long process.
All of us in my immediate family have September birthdays. But last year, I spent his birthday with him (September 1st), and that’s something I don’t normally do. By this time he was buying smaller clothes, and was truly enjoying the day celebrating him. I had a peace in dealing with my dad that day.
The actual day of his passing I remember vividly. I had a meeting about a block from where we are now. The day before my dad had a doctor’s appointment, and I lived across the street from the doctor’s office. That was my last time seeing him walk. The earlier part of the day he stated he didn’t feel well, and that his potassium was low. He told me to bring him some bananas. I called later on to check on him, and I heard all this noise in the background. He tells me that he’s down at the park (I’m trying to figure out why he ain’t sitting down somewhere), for the Jackson Hill Reunion. He walked down there to hangout, and he kept saying he feels great, and thanked me for the bananas. He was a social butterfly and had to be all in the mix. The next morning I received a phone call from my cousin that my father was unresponsive.
I rushed over there not believing that phone call was real. I remember grabbing his hand, and I kept saying this is not him. I’ve never touched him and he didn’t respond, but he was indeed gone.
This last year without him has been HELL. It hasn’t been easy. I found myself in the middle of a balancing act. I always had to prove that I was strong and okay. My family thought that I didn’t show enough emotion, but I looked at it as being rational. I was pissed, and mad at God. The first time in my life that I felt that I had a dad, aside from doing for me. I enjoyed his company. It was something I always longed for, and I got that for those last 2 weeks with him.
Being a by the book person I need a manual and I was looking for a guide to dealing with grief. I would read about the stages of grief, but I couldn’t fit into those stages somehow. It felt as though someone was ripped from me. You don’t get over it you get through it. There’s no perfect way to grieve if there was a book I probably would have read it by now.
First time my 5 year old got on a plane was to DC this year. He said “well I want to see granddad, because granddad is in the sky, and the only way to get there is by plane.” He doesn’t understand how final death is yet. I don’t think I was prepared to have that conversation with him.
I had to realize that my kids were watching me more than I thought, and I had to show them that I was hurt by it. I’m raising boys and I didn’t want them to deal with or have misplaced hurt. A lot of acting out comes from not being vulnerable.
This was my first time returning to the stadium, but I have not been to the lake. Which are two of his favorite places, but I know that they were also triggers for me. Within the last hour I’ve had a wave of strength come over me because I’m able to talk about him. It’s hard to be black in america but it’s also hard to be black amongst black people. Where we can get easily annoyed by people’s process. I didn’t want to be that friend, and I didn’t want to talk to people, because all I wanted to talk about was my dad. Simply because it was a judgement in me before, “why aren’t you over it by now.” Since going through it, I find myself more sensitive, and now I understand it. Losing someone so close to you is life changing. I wish we were a little bit more empathetic in how we deal with grief as a community. I want us to be more comfortable with being a listening ear when someone we know is dealing with grief. I don’t think there’s a prayer that you can pray for grief. If there is one, can someone give it me?
Be First to Comment