Gone, but never forgotten

16 years ago today, my dad died. He had skin cancer, a malignant melanoma. I dont know exactly how long he was ill for before he died as him and my mum decided to keep it from me and my brother as long as they could.
I wish they hadn't but I understand that they were trying to protect us. But it was something that we couldn't be protected from in the end.
I don't recall being told, I just remember realising at some point that Dad was sick. Not manflu, or a long term illness that he would eventually shake off but actually, properly sick.
I only have a few memories from around that time, he was in bed a lot. I went and sat with him and we talked like we used to. I sat on his bed (he slept on the left, like I do now.) and we talked. I picked up his hand and held it in mine. Realising how much skinnier it was than my little 14 year old hand. There were little brown marks on it, like age spots but my Dad was only 40. I traced each one with my thumb as I started to understand what they were, what they meant. I took a deep breath, and knew even then that I couldn't waste my time with him by crying. So we still talked. I spoke to him like it was normal. Told him about my day at school, how good I was at reading, just like he was. We talked about my horse-riding, how much I loved it. He tried so hard to talk normally back to me, but he could see how much I was struggling to keep calm so he said he was tired and needed to sleep. I left him to get some rest.
My next memory was after he had gone to the hospital. The Marie Curie Centre. I refused to see him. I didn't want to forget the way he was, the way he had been all my life.
My mum persuaded me to go. I reluctantly agreed. We walked into his room and there was my dad but about 20 years older. He was like a shell. So incredibly thin, his skin looked like paper, like he might break if he moved. My brother tried to speak, he tried so hard but I could see it was killing him coz it was killing me too. I locked myself in the bathroom because I didn't want my Dad to see me cry. I stayed in there for 5 minutes and I cried like I had never cried before. Then after 5 minutes I stopped, just like that. I cleaned my face and I took a deep breath and I went back to my Dads room and sat on his bed. I took hold of his hand and I talked. I told him everything that I could think of and then when I realised that he couldnt speak anymore, I answered for him too. We sort of conversed, I talked and talked and he answered with his eyes, little squeezes to my hand. I have no idea how long I sat there. It might have been 10 minutes, it might have been an hour but I noticed how exhausted he had become so I wrapped it up with an 'I love you.' He mouthed the words back to me. We left then, one last glance back towards him as he lay back and closed his eyes.
I never saw him again.
He died that night.
I am so grateful that I went that one last time.
I don't remember what he looked like lying in that hospital bed and I am thankful for that because all that was left of my Dad was in his eyes. But his eyes were so full of pain that in a way, I was relieved. He was out of pain, and he never deserved any pain.
I loved you then and I love you now just as much, maybe more.
I will never get over the fact that your grandchildren will never meet you, you will never walk me down the aisle. But I know you are watching and I hope that you can be proud of me one day. As proud as I am of you.
I miss you. I will never, ever forget you Dad.
I love you, R.I.P. xx

- Posted from TB.

Neverending ...

Excuse me for this, but FOR FUCK SAKES!

Ugh, I am so annoyed right now. Why is it, just as I think that everything is on track and I start making plans, something comes along to fuck it up? People keep telling me that I deserve better and stuff, but would someone like to inform fate, or destiny or whatever the fuck it is, of that?

I moved home May 2009, altogether it took over 18 months for monies to be sorted. I thought that this month was the first month that I could actually make plans and manage my finances but no. I didn't get money that i was supposed to this month, so I phone up to find out whats going on, to be told that someone else (and they cant  tell me who) has tried to pass my kids off as their own so they have stop my money for up to 3 months while they look in to it. My kids live with me ffs, I complain about them often enough. Why would I make that up?!

There is nothing I can do either. I mean, the two guys I spoke to were more than helpful but there is only so much they can do. They don't have details (or if they do, they're not allowed to tell me) so for all they know, I could be the one making a fraudulent claim. 

The ONLY way that i can look at this, is that once its sorted and they realise that the kids are here, is that Ill struggle now but Ill get a bit of lump sum around Xmas time. Catalogue payoffs here I come!

I absolutely hate having to rely on this money but I do. That's basic fact. And losing that amount, without warning, the day before I go to Ireland totally worries me. 

Its not just now, I have a bit of a buffer to cover this. I may have to delay the boys early Christmas present but rent is more important (I suppose). But the next two months as well. 

Looks like its the starvation diet for me then.

Silver lining an all that I guess.

Ready.

I'll take that knight in shining armour now. Whenever you're ready.
Rescue me please.


- Posted from TB.

Jinxed

Its like tempting fate. I write up a post to say how happy I am and them something happens to bring me down again. Its as if I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm not supposed to enjoy my life and what Ive worked and struggled for.
I woke up to texts again this morning. They don't bother me like they used to but they still serve to set me on edge for the day. I keep thinking 'these things are sent to try us.' and all that, but how much more crap do I have to go through before its all over? I'm not on edge like I used to be but I still have to think things through a lot more than most people would, have to think of the consequences that what I do will bring. I'm not talking anything crazy like, but ordinary, everyday decisions that most people could make without thinking twice about it. I have to weigh up the reaction to my decisions when I really shouldn't have to. And I know I shouldn't and I know that I should do what I want and not give it a second thought, but when you've been doing that for the best (worst?) part of ten years, its a hard habit to get out of.
I think I'm getting there, but there is still that fear ya know? Its more of a fear of the unknown, a fear of what might happen, whether it will be a repeat of things past or whether it would be something entirely different. I'm getting there, I know that. Very slowly but I *am* getting there.
I wish I had more support, not family as such (as much as I love them, they're not supportive as they just hate.) but more of a social network. The only way this is going to happen is if I push for it. In fact, I have literally just sent a text to an old friend that Ive been trying to catch up with for ages, inviting her for coffee.
I am not going to let him beat me. I cant. I spent enough time basically doing everything I could for him and the kids. The kids I don't mind, but I have to break the hold.
I have to. I have no choice if I want to move on at all.
Id still quite like someone to come rescue me.

Catch up

Hey hey. Well now, it *has* been a while hasn't it? I feel so much has happened since I posted last. Most of it good too.
Its weird, I almost don't feel like posting when I'm happy, as if this blog is purely for miserable, depressing rants about how shit my life is.Which is basically what it has been since it started. Its been terribly therapeutic too. But I think now is the time for me to start posting the happy instead of just feeling it.
Lets see, first things first an all that, I think I am 90% free. I'm feeling the most independent and single than I have for the last 10 years. I make my own decisions without having to consult someone first. I can walk round my flat naked if I want to and not care about who might come out of a room at the wrong time. I feel happy. (Mostly) Truly happy for the fist time in about 8 years.
And honestly? I don't know what the fuck to do with it. I don't know how to be happy anymore! I am fully aware how sad and pathetic that sounds, and that I should just accept the happy and get on with it. BUT, I mean, I don't know where to direct it. At the moment I'm all about bouncing round the place, singing and dancing to myself, I love it. I'm constantly laughing at some joke I make to myself and then laughing at myself for being an idiot. I want to share it, I want to make someone else feel happy too. I want to dance around and laugh and joke with other people.
That's my task for this week, I HAVE to get back in touch with a couple of old mates, Ive put it off and procrastinated because Ive been nervous. Nervous of what they will think when we meet up again, nervous of what I will say, even though I have seen them for about 10 years and have plenty of stuff that we can talk about and nervous about what they will think of me. As you know, I haven't had the best experience with 'friends' recently and i know that all people are different and these girls are friends that I made coz I wanted to, not because they were family of people that I was sharing my life with at the time. So it should be easier and I really shouldn't have anything to worry about, but I do. So yes, that will be my task for this week.
Hmm, what else has gone on? Well, there is something, but I don't actually want to talk about that just yet. Don't want to tempt fate or make an arse of myself by getting the wrong end of the stick or what. I'm not sure if the person involved reads this so I think Id be better off saying nothing for now, sorry for the crypticness but its (hopefully) a good thing.
There isn't really much else that I can think of for now. See what i mean about not having much to say when I'm happy?
I'm gonna leave it there coz I got shit to do. I do plan on making more happy happy joy joy posts but when my brain is working a little better.

Oh, Sundays still suck.