For years, I’ve heard friends talking about their dads attending their high school graduation and walking the brides down the aisle. I’ve listened to stories about how much dads love their grandchildren.
This and so much more wasn’t in the cards for me, as I was only 15 years old when he died.
On top of that, I heard some disturbing things about him after his death, which I now question. Not certain I believe what I heard based upon the source and that person’s past. Or maybe I just want and need to believe that person lied to me.
So, I’m left with a lot of questions. I was also thinking about what I did in the days, weeks and months after he died. How did I cope? Because I know I certainly didn’t cry much. Had I, I think I would have never stopped. So, I threw myself into sports and listened to a ton of music. One song I repeated over and over was Cold November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. I could probably sing you every lyric from memory. Like right now, if you’d so wish.
So yeah, anyway, where am I going with this? Well, it’s more of a rambling tonight, I guess. I did realize a connection between my 15 year old self and my 42 year old self. Both of us turn(ed) to music and physical activity (even though mine is limited now due to health conditions). And I suppose that’s a good way of coping. And I’m learning to forgive, as well as asking to be forgiven. I find it a shame that so often it’s easier to forgive once the person has passed away.
Thanks for listening. Take care of yourselves and each other. ✌🙏💛