Fourteen years ago today was day one of me becoming an emotional odd-ball that matured too quickly. Of course, no one told me that things would unfold this way, so instead I slowly learned through the Mean Girls in school, the guys that I dated, and observations of others with similar experiences. Oh, and the four years earning a degree in Psychology and Sociology was basically so I could understand why I'm so fucked in the head.
Honestly, the thing that bothers me the most is exactly that: no one tells you about this. All I heard when I was a ten year old at my dad's funeral was people saying something along the lines of, "it gets better." Well guess what, IT DOESN'T! Though I was ten, I feel like I deserved some hard-earned respect and some awesome street-cred. I had literally watched my dad die right before my eyes just days before and I really just wish someone would have given me some sincere and genuine advice. Input that would have been ideal to be forewarned about:
-Dating will be hard. You don't have a scary dad to threaten potentials and you will have a very challenging time trusting and dealing with men. Guys you date will hate this about you.-You will know NOTHING about cars, classic music, guns, math or really anything. Meh.-It will take your mom ten years to figure out how to use the grill and reap positive results. You will eventually become a vegetarian, perhaps for this reason.
-You will cry at random things that make zero sense at very inconvenient times. Example: on the four hour flight yesterday, I was reading an autobiography and felt warm tears running down my cheeks while the author described a pine tree. Seriously.
-Father-daughter dances at weddings? I still have yet to determine if it's more awkward to exit the reception during this or to make everyone uncomfortable as I wipe runny mascara from my face with the lovely cream linens on the table. (If anyone has the answer to this, feel free to share!)
-Many of my elementary school peers will remember me as "the girl who watched her dad die." They will drunkenly bring it up at weddings, nights out at local bars or just awkwardly in the grocery store.
-Anytime a friend loses someone close to them, you're their go-to. An expert. Grim Reaper, almost.
-Some people will always give you that sad, pathetic look, no matter how much time passes. And it makes you despise those people or find them more endearing.... depends on the person.
-You will be oddly more mature than the kids in your fifth grade class and other grades to come, making it nearly impossible to have close friends that aren't at least five years older than you.
Essentially, you will never quite "fit in."
Instead of the real talk that I needed, everyone leaned over, looked into my naive, green eyes and embraced me. Their arms rubbed the back of my velvety black sweater that went perfectly with my black and grey pleated skirt. I stood on my tip-toes in my black patent Mary-Jane Hush Puppies to hug the caring friends of my older sisters. I was the youngest and overlooked, just the assumption that I am resilient. They were probably hoping that I wasn't old enough for any long-term damage. Newsflash, that's very inaccurate. However, how many people have that experience? I can't imagine that watching the life drain from your dad's body on your way to fifth grade is a common occurrence so maybe no one knew how screwed I would turn out.
And the best part? I totally embrace it. Who gives a shit if I am an offensive combination of emotionally detached and overly sensitive? I'm plagued with the ever-present "daddy issues," that most men can smell from miles away. It's worse than a tramp stamp-- the minute I mention something about my dad in the past tense, the heart of a skeezeball skips a beat. I enjoy my dark and morbid sense of humor that only someone who rides in a minivan with their dead parent can truly pull off. My family puts the FUN in dysfunctional like it's nobody's business. I have fourteen years of hard-earned emotional problems. So, while the above items would have been nice to be cautioned about, I will continue to share the following with anyone that comes to me following a loss:
-Dead parents club (DPC). You can spot anyone missing a parent within minutes of meeting them. It's a creepy sixth sense. Find these people, some of them have become close friends of mine.
-I've developed an appreciate for unconventional families. Half-siblings? Awesome! Ex-step-parents? Cool! Oh, you have no family? Join mine, my mom bakes great cookies!
-My mom is my best friend. Probably kind of weird because she knows far more about me than any of my friends ever will. My hair might be full of secrets, but my mom has even more...kind of like an external hard drive. It's been like this from the minute the news was shared. I sat in her lap while we were both completely silent and I knew that I'd never be as close with anyone as I was with her in that room.
-Mastering the art of consoling friends, strangers and family is a big accomplishment that I'm proud of. I enjoy being the go-to person as a well-seasoned veteran in the funeral game.
-I've found that I can make it through anything as long as I have my mom and sisters by my side. After hearing that your dad is dead while sitting with mom in a cold hospital room, anything else is a minor setback.
-It's okay to feel however you want to. Are you happy, relieved, angry, terrified or crushed? Honestly, you're going to be all of those things at once, some more than others but it will be hard and it never gets easier. That's okay. They are your feelings and you don't have to apologize. Ever.
-Therapy. It's wonderful when you're ready for it but a terrible idea if you aren't. It could be the same week or ten years later. Having someone to discuss the fact that you hate your dad for being so unhealthy that he abandoned three amazing daughters and the most devoted woman on the planet when you're 22 and lost is completely invaluable. No judgment, no guilt, just facts.
There you have it. This is why I am one of the most crazy women I know...and the other whackjobs are my mom and sisters. I would like to believe that, though I have countless neurotic personality traits, the positive quirks and values I've gained through very hard lessons outweigh them. Even so, I know that there will always be three amazing girls by my side to keep me pushing through.
Rest in Peace, dad.
