His Pride In Me
I think it’s high time I wrote considering it is soon approaching 2 months since I’ve done so. I can’t promise I will deliver all the substantial information in the most appropriate manner as my thought patterns have not been as fluid and flowy as they often are. The fluidity is usually as a result of some sort of internal conflict I’m facing. It is as though my pain transforms into a stream of words that are complimented by readers known and unknown. However, as of late I haven’t much to be conflicted with. I do, but I don’t. Read on….
…I take this time to impart unto you the saddest news of all. It is the reason I strayed away from this diary for nearly a month. That reason was the death of Funnyman (my stepfather) – the only man who offered me any sort of validation in my life. Past readers will remember how ill he became 3 years past when he suffered a brain aphasia. Due to his liver condition and the combination of other ailments, his last 3 years spent on earth were none too favorable. He rarely, if ever, ventured outside because he was placed on medications that enduced his bowel movements all throughout the day. His pride did not allow him to wear diapers, sit in a wheelchair, or anything of the sort. So instead, he usually sat in the comfort of his apartment watching Phantom of the Opera on dvd over and over and over again, which I’d bought for him for his birthday the year after he grew ill. His condition had left him incoherent for the most part. He could understand most of what was being said to him, but his ability to speak had been greatly impaired. A cell phone became a fork according to his speech patterns, nor did he recall names. It was sad to have watched for the last 3 years as this was a man who could read a novel in 2-3 fortnights and was my walking dictionary. He was also my best friend prior to the accident. I could confide in him with just about anything and most usually did.
While his condition placed a strain on our bond, my love for him and his for me never faltered. His daughter had been estranged a few years before and then throughout his grueling process. However, knowing how much he loved her and how badly he’d wanted to see her once more, when I discovered she lived merely blocks away from me, I somehow pursuaded her to visit with him. It began by spending time with her, and then I suggested that she come to the hospital with me to see him (as he was in and out of the hospital on a pretty consistent basis). I tell you with great satisfaction that I was pleased to have been able to do that for him before his death. He died 3 weeks after her visiting him.
The week before his death, I’d gone to the hospital twice in one week which was unusual for me considering my late work schedule. However, the second time it was as though something were calling me to him. He was looking well and for the first time in a very long time he was maintaining a very decent conversation with me. I had thoughts I’d been wanting to share with him for so long that I refrained from speaking aloud because I imagined he would not really grasp what I was saying. I decided that evening was when I would tell him he was my Superman. I did so. For an hour we reminisced on the many memories of my childhood; how grateful I was to him for the love he bestowed upon me that my own father could not acknowledge. It was incredible that he – who did not create me -was a major contribution to the woman I am today. He in turn told me of his affection, admiration, and pride for me. I left the hospital when visiting hours were done the way I always did, with a kiss on his forehead and I immediately phoned my mother to tell her how wonderful of a visit I had just had and how well he was looking. A week later, 5 days after my 26th birthday, he died.
I had seen it coming. The weekend prior we celebrated my birthday in Atlantic City for the night with The Momma, and 2 of my besties: Madamme B. and Shisty. I kept repeating how happy I was while smiling broadly and stating that it could not be possible to feel so happy and so free. I was still in semi-recovery from The Tsunami (my break-up with The Queen) and I couldn’t understand how I was able to feel so light; as though any pain, worry, and fear had been lifted from my heart. I said it in that very instance: "God is preparing me for something really bad to come." They all thought me to be cynical and overly emotional at the time, but I knew it.
The funeral was grueling especially when his family did not allow my mom and I the acknowledgement we deserved. This man had dedicated the last 17 years of his life to us and because he and my mom had never been married, nor did they live together, we were treated like aquaintances. It wasn’t until his very affluent brother and his estranged daughter stepped in that we began to have a say in the arrangements. Furthermore it wasn’t until my entire family showed up in support at the funeral parlor on his viewing days that his immediate family began to realize how much of his life he shared with us, and how little of it he shared with them.
When asked to produce photos of him for a video montage I was putting together, they admitted to having a hard time finding anything recent. Anything they had was dated 20+ years before. When the video was played and they saw so many photos we had taken over the years from Birthdays to Christmas to Easter and every holiday in between…it struck that chord.
When my 10 year old nephew Giggles stood up to speak so positively, energetically, and eloquently about his connection to the only man he acknowledged as a grandfather on his fathers side of the family, this is what he said:
(impromptu)
"I just want to say that I’ve lost a really great man in my life. I knew Grandpa Nelson before I had ever met him. He was the one to take my mom to the hospital to give birth to me and later on he told me it was one of the greatest days of his life."
He in that moment began to cry hysterically. Everyone could not help but be moved by this well-spoken 10 year old boy. He then went into a funny account of a situation they’d shared when he was younger and ended with the following:
"The last time I spoke to Grandpa Nelson was when he called me for my birthday. Nanny made sure he called my cellphone from the hospital because he wanted to wish me a happy birthday. The last thing I’ll always remember him saying was: "I’m gonna be okay ma boy. Just don’t forget me okay?" and he ensued into tears once again.
I am finding it hard at this very moment to get through writing this without tears swelling up in my eyes. I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful of a man he was for my family and I. My cold as stone brother was brought to tears and silence with the situation.
My uncle from my fathers side had died the same day, only 3 hours after my stepdad. Therefore, my father was at the funeral and could understand the pain we were all enduring.
At the church hi
s daughter and I were to deliver a shared eulogy. I felt horrible when she went first and spoke for a minute or two delivering three sentences. I followed with something I’d prepared that morning, but I had a lot to say. At a later time I will type the eulogy in here to keep for memories. His icy brother came to me after the ceremony and told me how proud Nelson would have been of me. Another member of his family whom he was not uber close to, but spent time with, walked over during the burial to tell me how proud he would be of the beautiful, intelligent, young woman I’d become. I told them both with such assurance, "don’t think for a second he ever failed to tell me how proud he was of me. He told me all the time."
It was the hardest and longest week of my entire life to date. His daughter and I remain closer than ever. She made a promise not to run away again. She said she’s ready to stand still and so far has kept to her promise. Soon we will be getting matching tattoos that resemble the heart tattoo he had between is thumb and forefinger. I will place mine on my shoulder area to denote he is my guardian angel. She will place hers in the exact spot he had his.
I am moving out of my basement apartment and into his. I was worried about the decision to do so, but after being consoled by everyone and convinced that he would have liked it that way I’m moving forward with the idea. I move in October 1st. Shisty (who has been going through her break-up with WhiteBoyCanDance) will be moving into my old place.
There’s a lot more to be said on my life as of late, especially when regarding a really special someone whom I coined Windblown, but changed to Jibby. He’s become a consistent source of happiness for me and stay tuned for what my life has been like as of late beyond this life changing moment.
Much Love Always To All My Readers,
The Mourning Rose
oh wow…this definitely had me tearing up. what an amazing man to have had in your life. i’m so sorry for your loss. i bet he would be so happy to know you’re moving into his place and doing beautiful things to remember him.
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oh my.. I am so sorry for your loss. I am looking forward to your update though to see how you are doing. *huge hugs*
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