September and death, I think that was where I left you.
Here we go, September is sad. I don’t like sad, I don’t really do sad, sad makes me uncomfortable. Death makes me sad and angry. Having a dad who died when I was a kid gave me issues with funerals and death. Hell it gave me issues which took years to figure out and made me a mess the summer my husband decided to have his mid-life crisis. If I was a smarter person I could probably tie it all together in a neat bow, his crisis, my childhood issues, his affair, my depression, his depression, and our falling apart. Can’t help deal with someone else’s issues when you are avoiding your own. Long story short…my issues hated his issues and a bunch of bullshit happened.
One of the reasons…His grandfather’s death. Now let me make this clear, his grandfather? He was my granddad too, he wasn’t just my husbands. For 16 years, I spent more time with him than my husband did. I adored the man, I was his granddaughter, and if you asked him he would have claimed me as such, every single day of the flipping week. He loved me. He loved me because I was a good mom to his great grandkids. He loved me because I was ballsy and funny. He loved me because I had a kind heart. Mostly though? He loved me because I loved him. We got each other, and loved each other.
I am the calf catching, pig wrangling, cow chasing farm hand I am today, because he thought I could be. He never looked at me as a frail woman, he just would hand me a bucket, or a pair of gloves and off we’d go feeding calves and fixing fence. He treated me like a man, like his equal, and he taught me to think like one. No excuses, no ‘this is too heavy’ or ‘hey I might get kicked in the head’ excuses were heard, it was ‘there is a job to do Kelly, so let’s go do it’.
Did my husband love him? Absolutely, but I loved him too. I loved him not because he was my grandpa, but because he was my friend. When he died, I cried because I lost a friend. I bawled my head off because he was going to be missed. I wanted one more story, one more car ride, one more trip through the pasture, I just wanted more time.
My husband came home for the funeral, and he was so distant. He was crushed, but an ass. I excused him because he had lost his grandpa. I tried to be there for him, but he pushed me away. He didn’t want to see my tears, or hear how I was hurting, all I heard from him was ‘it was his grandpa’. It hurt, it made me angry, it still makes me angry.
He once emailed the whore, and told her how she was the one who got him through his grandfather’s death. She was the only one…Not to worry, the whore made sure I got that email too.
Thank you whore, thank you my husband, for making the memory of my grandfather into a trigger. Thank you for turning every memory of him into a landmine filled with pain.
Not too long ago, I was sitting in the car and a song from his funeral came on, from the slide show I had put together for his funeral. My husband drove listening, and reached over for my hand, I sat it firmly in my lap as the tears poured down my face.
“I hate you for that, for telling her that, for using his memory like that, for making me feel like this when I think of him. For letting that whore think she even touched his memory.” I told him as I sat crying.
I do, I can forgive him of many things, but this is one I struggle with. I want to be able to think of him with out a fat whore shadowing his memory.
There are things I know…
He would have been so disappointed in his grandson.
He would have still loved him.
He would have never let the whore in his house.
He would have called a spade a spade, and a whore…well a whore.
He would have stood by me, no matter what.
Why? He loved me.
He would have adored the little girl Lou grew in to.
He would have been proud of me for trying to fix my marriage.
He would have bragged about the young men my sons have become.
He would have been sad that I couldn’t remember him without tears.
September is the anniversary of his death, and it makes me sad. It makes me angry.
I really miss him.
“Grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old days
Sometimes it feels like this world’s gone crazy
Grandpa, take me back to yesterday
When the line between right and wrong
Didn’t seem so hazy
Did lovers really fall in love to stay
And stand beside each other, come what may
Promise really something people kept
Not just something they would say
Families really bow their heads to pray
Daddies really never go away”