Nine years ago today, my father died.
I realize I have not been the best about keeping up with my “Life Story” installments. I’m getting back to it soon – there has just been so very much going on that is stirring me to write on other topics. I have been recently feeling a pull to get back to this so I will next week beloved friends.
Until then, I will share a snippet of a spoiler that will tell you part of the end though there is so much that led up to the end. When I do write about my nutso life thus far, you won’t be disappointed. Part Five will publish next week. I promise.
JJ and I were sitting outside the other night on a balmy, summer evening enjoying what we call our “front porch date” (kids in bed, adult beverages in hand, good music) when I shared with him that I had been missing my father lately. Mourning his loss. Envisioning him running around our back yard with our three hooligans. I can literally hear his laughter echoing through the air.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was likely feeling this way because this day was coming. I always get a little more emotional around December 8 (his birthday) and June 8 (the anniversary of his death.)
For most of my father’s life, he was stolen from his loved ones by a horrible thief that goes by the name of “alcoholism”. He was in and out of my life because sometimes he would dominate this wretched burglar and sometimes he just simply couldn’t.
Mr. Alcoholism robbed me of a father that I so desperately needed growing up but am now finding that I still so desperately need as an adult. He robbed my children of their grandfather, who would have doted on Susannah and laughed hysterically at the ridiculous antics of my two wild boys who are 15 months apart and currently aged three and almost two. He robbed Susannah of knowing what it would be like to have her mommy’s daddy wrapped around her finger while he robbed the boys of a man who would have told me that “They’re boys!!!” with a chuckle when I explained their latest fiasco.
I was robbed of conversations regarding dad’s experiences of living as a homeless man for a year then at Wheeler Mission for another year. I was robbed of the discussions on faith and Jesus I would have loved to have had with him. The gift of conversations that only maturity could bring and I did not possess when he was alive.
My mother was robbed of a husband who would consistently love her and robbed of having more children which in turn robbed me of having any siblings.
I was robbed of ever knowing the kind of relationship my father would have had with JJ because I know he would have loved him to pieces. They are similar in so many ways because when Dad was sober, he was truly a “stand-up” man, respected by so many.
Yet on the other hand, the thief stole much of his dignity and forced my father to often feel embarrassed or ashamed during the last FINALLY sober six years of his life. He spoke of regrets while at the same time dreamed of the future.
In the end, it wasn’t that wretched thief that took his life. Mr. Alcoholism did not win. Take that, you ruthless criminal.
However, his horrid accomplice, Mr. Cigarettes, did. My father ultimately died of COPD due to his two-pack-a-day smoking habit.
On this day, I rejoice in knowing that my father did indeed accept Jesus before he died. I actually think he did this long before but I can’t be sure as my own beliefs were not yet developed when he passed. The seed had been planted and it was growing but he died before I could ever talk to him about my burgeoning faith.
I know that where he is now, neither Mr. Alcoholism nor Mr. Cigarettes can reach him. They are not there. There is no need for their company, thank you very much.
I know that where he is, he is finally at peace. He can literally breathe easier and no longer needs to feel the shame and the embarrassment that I know he felt in the last years of his life.
I know that where he is, he can know my children. It doesn’t look like the way I wanted him to know my children, but I think he does. I like to think he knew them before I did – that he held them in a rocking chair in heaven until it was time for them to come to me. That they had a chance to talk and giggle and read stories and learn from the wisdom that only a difficult life can bring. That they had a chance to feel the crazy love that I know he would have showered them with if he were indeed alive today.
Dad, I miss you so much. I miss your contagious laughter. I miss the way you used to say “Bumps!” when you answered your phone or I answered mine. I miss the way you shot straight from the hip and didn’t sugar-coat a thing. But most of all, Dad, I miss the whole package of what was “you”.
I so look forward to seeing you again someday.
So, here I was just coming by to thank you for stopping by my blog, and I find myself crying. Thank you so much for sharing this. I don’t know *exactly* how you feel, but pretty close – my dad was an alcoholic and died in a drinking and driving accident when I was 6. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, and this completely spoke to me. I generally am not comfortable writing about him (some of my closest friends don’t even know that I don’t have a dad), but I feel like you took the words right out of my heart. Addiction truly is a thief.
{ps – my sister’s name is Natalie, so it must be meant to be ;)}
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Wishing you a peaceful day today…
.-= vicki´s last blog ..Lots of thankfuls today! #61 – #94 =-.
Do something special with your kids today to honor the life of your dad. Wishing today is a day with no poop to deal with also!
During the first year of our marriage, I recognized my husband had a drinking problem. He had always had one, but I never noticed it because I didn’t live with him before hand. It took him the first year and a half of our marriage to see drinking was an issue, and another year to say it was an issue out loud. I’m thankful that he is working on this (and has made tremendous progress) and I have my husband back. It hurt to not be with him for that first year.
I hope your day brings you peace.
.-= Pua´s last blog ..Laundry day =-.
Such a moving blog! Love the picture of you and your dad as well ;)
Oh, Michelle. May Jesus comfort your grieving heart! I can relate on mourning the loss of a Father, the sadness that comes and goes. I also lived with an alcoholic for years, but am thankful that my husband reached out to a God a we didn’t even believe in at the time. That God reached back to him and pulled him up and out of the pit he was in. I will pray for peace in your heart on the anniversary of your Father’s death. God Bless you.
.-= Michelle´s last blog ..A Dream that Ended too Soon =-.
You are truly a gifted and talented writer as well as a beautiful woman, mom, wife, daughter, and friend. Your Dad loved you with all his heart and I just know he is your and your children’s guardian angel. I too was thinking of Rich today and was going to send you my usual email – when I opened my email and there was Mommy and Me!
God Bless you Miss Natalie – I love you too…
Miss Natalie, I’m sorry you’re missing your dad. I’m sorry for the missed memories and conversations that hard living took from you. And I’m so happy to know that those things didn’t steal him forever — that you have eternity to look forward to with him.
Hugs to you, friend.
.-= GlowinGirl´s last blog ..I Will Carry You =-.
Beautiful post Natalie! I am so sorry for your loss…not just due to his death but the loss of the father you needed and still need. You are such a beautiful writer and your gift brings light to so many. Thank you for this post. It really touched me! May God fill you up today and may his grace and love surround you!
Natalie, What an absolutely beautiful tribute to your father. I hate that you have dealt with this in your life. You are such an incredibly strong person and even though I know that this has payed a part in making you that strong, my heart just aches for you!
With Love,
Theresa
.-= Theresa´s last blog ..Yellow Chicken? =-.
thanks for sharing you heart.. all of it! (((hugs))). keep on keepin’ on.. JC is using you!
Oh, Natalie, what a moving story. My late mother’s birthday is June 9, and her severe mental illness prevented her from being the mom she wanted to be and from us having a good relationship. I’ll think about her, but don’t miss her as much as you miss your dad, probably because I was older when she died (6 years ago) and my children did know and love her. It is amazing to think through the experiences God gave us to make us who we are.
Love you, girl, Kay
What a beautiful post and I am so sorry that you are missing your Dad and all that you lost out on. But look at what an amazing beautiful person you turned out to be. I wish I could give you a hug!
By the way you look precious in that photo. So young and sweet.
xo
Sadie at heyMamas
.-= Sadie at heyMamas´s last blog ..Loving: Forever 21 =-.
This is my first visit. I love your blog. I especially appreciated your tribute to your Dad. Thank you very much for sharing from your heart. Bless you.
i felt your pain and i felt your hope, natalie. i lost both of my parents-in-law to cancer, and i regret that my son didnt even get the chance to know them. i didnt get the chance to know more about my MIL (she passed 8 months after i married her son) and i never got the chance to know her husband.
i do know that they are watching over him, over us, and i know that your father is watching over you his grandkids.
.-= cheri´s last blog ..you know it’s friday when… =-.
I was saddened by this article and at the same time I feel hopeful that people who are battling alcoholism may read this. Sorry for your loss.