I started writing and got a lot done, but deleted it. I didn’t like it but wasn’t sure why. I just realized I had a complete disconnect. I wasn’t writing with my emotions like I normally do. I was too hurt. The pain is still too raw and I melt down too fast.
I want to write about my step dad. On September 18th, 2015 he was taken from us and it crushed me. He was a strong and proud man who loved us so much. He met my mom late and we only got 20 years with him.
Have you seen ‘Grumpy Old Men’? He kind of reminded me of that movie. He was grumpy and not very often agreed with us, but he was funny, he loved us as his own and loved my mother, like she was never loved before that. She was truly happy for the first time in her adult life. I was unbelievably thankful for him showing me what a gentleman is really like!
He loved his grandkids and they didn’t know any different. I finally had a true father figure in my life and was so proud to have him walk me down the isle. Life was almost perfect for the first time.
When my son was born in 2013 he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Then they found it on his liver. They went to operate, but couldn’t take it out. The aggressive treatment for his liver fought back the prostate, but no matter what his liver just wouldn’t. He was brave and he wasn’t scared, he kept fighting and kept up the hope. My mom wouldn’t give in either. She kept going and fighting and hoping.
Almost 2 years after diagnosis they took him off all treatment and put him on palliative care. Like a storm just snapped the strongest tree in your neighborhood, he went down. 5 weeks and he was gone. Like he gave in to the inevitable and gave up on himself. Nothing to be said. I try not to think about those 5 weeks, because we lost him. He’s personality, his strength, his willingness to live was gone. The damn cancer won and he let it take over his body in an instant. I don’t know if there is anything to be done, if his mind could have kept him with us longer, if the doctors or anyone could have done anything more for him. It’s too late to dwell on that. It’s too late to cry over spilled milk. It’s too late to throw blames.
I have regrets though. I wish I wasn’t a cowered. I wish I would have been able to show my love for him better. I wish I hugged him more. I wish I would have told him ‘I love you’ more often. I wish I would have visited more often.
On the anniversary I went to the cemetery with my middle sister. He’s at peace. I know he is. I felt it there. I also know he hugged me. He knows my regrets and I think he’s trying to tell me, it’s okay. Loosing him was a crushing painful loss and I wrote most of this through my tears. I will learn to live with the pain of his loss and I will remember him often. Until we meet again, I love him.
Thanks know you for reading. Love, Judit
Sew Magically Me 